Stalk Me (The Keatyn Chronicles, #1)

“Yeah, but it’s the makeup. The super short slinky little dresses. The sky high heels.”


Cush gives me the look. The look I’ve seen him give so many girls right before they fall into bed with him. He can be quite charming even when he’s not trying to be.

“You’re making me hard,” he says.

I punch him in the shoulder. “Shut up.”

“So not to sound like a girl, but what am I supposed to wear?”

“I don’t know. Let’s go find something.”

We run up to his bedroom, and I start digging through his closet. Cush dresses pretty much the same way every day. His school wardrobe consists of athletic shorts, fitted t-shirts that show off his toned chest, and brightly colored tennis shoes.

I survey his walk-in closet and notice a pile of boxes in the back. “What’s all this?”

“It’s the stuff my mom brings home from her trips.” Cush’s mom is the president of a large textiles conglomerate. They sell fabric to all the major luxury brands, so she travels the world and is rarely home. “She tries to make herself feel better about being gone all the time.”

I start digging through the pile and quickly realize it’s literally a treasure trove.

“Cush!! Ohmigawd! This is a Prada backpack. Do you know how expensive these are? We’re throwing away the red Nike backpack you’ve had since seventh grade, and you’re gonna start using this.”

He nods his head in a half yes, half no direction. “Fine.”

I continue to open one box after another and get more and more excited. “Oh, cashmere sweaters from Harrods! Ahhh!! Look at these Jimmy Choo loafers! They’re incredible!! And a Louis Vuitton carryon. Gucci. Burberry. Hermes. A Rolex!?” I turn around and hand him a small box. “You’re letting a Rolex sit in here? Are you freaking nuts?”

“None of that stuff looks like me.”

“It does now. Bye, bye, boring basketball shorts. Hello, international Cushman.”

He shrugs. Rolls his eyes at me.

“You’re trying this stuff on. All of it. Like, right now.”

He gives me a sly grin. “You just wanna see me naked.”

“Yes, Cush, that is all I ever dream of. You in a closet with a pile of designer clothes all around you.” I stop. Have a flash of déjà vu and realize that does sort of sound familiar. “Actually, I have had a dream like that, but it was just me in the closet with every designer shoe ever made. And they were all lined up in glass-front cases in this massive two-story closet . . . ”

He raises a hand to halt me. “Fine. Fine. I’ll try them on if you will stop talking about shoes.”

I lie on my stomach across his bed and throw out orders of what to try on with what.

“Do you not wear this stuff because it pisses your mom off?”

He walks out of the closet looking smoking hot. He’s got on an expensive pair of straight-cut, dark-washed jeans, a blue paisley button-up shirt that was custom made by a London tailor, and the Jimmy Choo loafers.

“Holy shit, Cush. You look hot. That’s what you’re wearing tonight. My luck, I’ll take you there and still end up dancing alone.”

He looks in the mirror. “You’re hot for me, aren’t you?”

I grin. “You know it.”

“The answer to your question is yes. I probably don’t wear it because it pisses my mom off. She’ll love you even more after this.”

“You miss her.”

“Yeah. I mean, it gets lonely during the week.”

“Wanna trade? I swear, there is nothing but noise at my house.” I laugh thinking about all that goes on at my house most of the time. “I love my little sisters, though, and I actually miss the noise when they're gone. So, when I need a break, I'm coming here. When you need noise, you come to the chaos that is my house.” I glance at my watch. “I have to get home for dinner. Tommy’s grilling steaks before they go out. He says he’s tired of eating nothing but appetizers at cocktail parties. Wanna join us?”





Your dirty little secret.

8:30pm





The girls had a bedtime snack, handed out kisses, and were off to bed. Cush and I ate dinner on the deck with Mom and Tommy and then watched the sun go down over the water. Mom excused herself to go get ready, so I snuck off too, leaving Cush to enjoy a cigar with Tommy.

Now, I stand in front of my vanity, pull my hair back into a high, tight ponytail, and put on my makeup. I glue on fake eyelashes, cake my lids with super smoky eye shadow, add thick black liner and mascara. I add a little bronzer to highlight my cheekbones and a soft pink lip gloss, and then walk into my closet.

I love my closet.