Stalk Me by Jillian Dodd

up, wipes tears from his face, and says, “Thank you. I didn’t want to do this alone, but I didn’t really have anyone that I wanted to come with me.”
    “I’m glad I could help. I hope you still buy the house. She would love knowing you live here. Now we just need to find you a woman.” I laugh. “For a guy that looks like you that should be easy. Why aren’t you married yet, anyway?”
    He laughs too. “Geez, now you sound just like her. I’ll tell you what I told her: I have high standards.” He pauses. “You looked pissed when you were walking down here earlier. Did you have a bad day? Did I just make it worse?”
    “It doesn’t really matter anymore. It’s just high school drama.”
    “Yeah, but it’s your drama. Tell me about it. It’ll distract me, and I went to high school; maybe I can help.”
    I sigh big and spill my guts. “I recently broke up with the guy I’ve dated for over a year. We were the perfect couple. Like everyone thought we were perfect, but the truth is we weren’t. I don’t think he was attracted to me. Or maybe he really does want to wait until he gets married, I’m not sure.”
    “You’re a virgin? Really?”
    I hang my head. “Yeah.”
    He pushes my chin up so I’m forced to look at him. “Keatyn, that’s a good thing.”
    “My friends think it’s lame. It’s like I’m flawed or not sexy enough.”
    “Sounds like your friends have some fucked up values. Sex is not what makes you sexy. I’m very serious about you being in my movie. Every guy in America is going to fall in love with you.”
    “I highly doubt that. I can’t even seem to get the one guy I like to fall in love with me. And if that isn’t bad enough, my supposed best friend is threatening to tell everyone at school that I’ve never done it. Everyone thinks I did it all the time with my ex. If they find out, they’ll look at me like I’m a fake Prada bag.”
    “Grandmother said that you shouldn’t care what people say about you. The people who say bad things are insecure about themselves. When I was young, kids at school used to tease me about my mom. I learned to fight. Got tough. When I lived with Grandmother, she told me that if I had confidence, everyone else would have confidence in me. So I got good at faking it. Now, I don’t even have to fake it anymore. Don’t let them get to you.”
    “Okay, I’ll try.”
    “I better get going.”
    “I’m sorry again about your grandmother.”
    “I really appreciate you being here, helping me. Will you give me your phone number, so I can get in touch with you?”
    I recite my cell number while he puts it in his phone.
    As he walks away, he says, “She’d love the fact that I met the girl I’m going to make into a star on her beach.”

 
     
     
     
    Wednesday, May 18th
    This is important, people.
    Lunch
     
    During fourth period, my cell buzzed with a text. I practically ripped it out of my bag, trying to see if it was from Brooklyn. 
    I was surprised to see Vincent’s name. 
     
    Unknown caller:  Hey, it’s Vincent.
     
    Me:  Hey . . . how are you doing today?
     
    Vincent:  Better. I want to attempt to repay you for your kindness yesterday. Would you be available for dinner tonight?
     
    I thought about it before I replied. I don’t really know Vincent very well, but he seems nice. I felt so bad for him yesterday. Last night, when I wasn’t counting up the hours it’s been since I’ve spoken to Brooklyn, I admit that I thought about him a little. About how strong and sexy he seems, but how emotional and deeply sad he was. 
    I thought about texting him. To check on him. I still have his business card sitting on my desk. I didn’t, though. I was afraid he’d think it was weird. But what he said to me when he left—about his grandmother being happy he met me on her beach—made me happy. Made me feel like maybe this project, if it does end up coming to fruition, would be something I should do. 
    The way he seemed to idolize