But when I walk up to Dallas, he high fives me. “Dude, that was awesome! And in cowboy boots to boot. Haha!” He laughs at himself. “To boot, get it??”

Inwardly, I sigh with relief. Thank goodness, I didn’t make a complete fool of myself.

“Yeah, we get it,” I laugh.

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again. We’re gonna have some fun this year. I’m so glad you came up and hit on me.”

“I did not hit on you.”

“You asked Is this seat taken, and there was like this much space.” He puts his hands out and shows the others that there were like two inches.

“Maybe I just wanted to meet some boys. Some nice, fun to hang out with, boys. I figured the boys in the back were a good place to start. But if you had all turned out to be losers, then I woulda had to ditch you.”

“We still might ditch you.”

“No way,” Riley counters.

Dallas agrees, ruffles my hair, and says, “Yeah, now you’re, like, our mascot.”

“You have a nickname?” Riley asks.

“Um, my little sisters call me Kiki. Like key, key.”

“Kiki is a stripper name,” one of the freshmen boys chimes in.

“Uh, you’re not gonna call me Kiki.”

He scowls. “Fine. What’s your last name?”

I go blank. Forget my line. Shit. What is my last name?

If this were really the movie of my life, a stagehand would whisper it to me. Would it be weird if I wrote it on my hand?

“Um, Monroe.” I finally remember.

“K-mon?” a freshman suggests.

“That’s dumb,” Dallas tells him.

Riley says, “Well, Kiki it is then.”

Omg!

Seriously? Why did I open my mouth about Kiki? It totally sounds like a stripper name. And yeah, I want to get noticed, but I don’t want the boys to think I’m some strip tease slut.

My next girlfriend.

5:15pm

I get my room assignment and meet my roommate. Her name is Morgan. She’s also a new junior. She told me some story about a nasty divorce, that she plans on trying out for the debate team, that she plays a mean clarinet, and that she hopes to get on the student council.

It said in our packets that election campaigns start soon. I think I just decided to run. For president, maybe.

Crazy teen movie girl would do that.

And she’d win, and we’d all sit there in theater thinking, Yeah right; that never happens in real life.

But maybe it can. I can do it. I was always interested in Student Council, but Vanessa told me it wouldn’t be cool to run for something like that. She said men are threatened by powerful woman.

I didn’t really want to be powerful—I just wanted to help plan some dances and parties. But then Sander decided to run so, instead, I became a trophy and looked good on his arm.

I threw him a big Sander Volleyball Tournament. Get it . . . Sander: Sand? It was cute. We brought in all sorts of hot, bikini-clad girls and buff, shirtless guys to serve food and flirt with the guests. He won President by a landslide.

I think I will run. Worst case, I lose and get to know some people in the process.

Brooklyn’s zen shit must have rubbed off on me.

Morgan and I go to dinner together, but she ditches me for some girl she met earlier today. Which means I’m the loser who’s standing in the food line all by herself.

A girl walks up to me. A girl that is so freaking beautiful, her skin belongs in a Cover Girl ad.

“Hey, I’m Peyton. Sweet moves on the soccer field today. You totally scored on my brother. It was awesome.”

“The goalie was your brother?” I look at her closer and realize perfection runs in the family. I can still see the goalie if I close my eyes. The shock on his beautiful face, the stiffness of that chiseled jaw, the surprise in his brilliant green eyes as the ball sailed right by his gloved hand.

“Yeah, can you tell? Everyone says we look alike.”

I laugh. “It all happened pretty fast, but yeah, now that I know, I can tell.”

“Well, hopefully you can also tell me you’re trying out for the soccer team. I’m team captain this year.”

“Really? And yeah, I was planning on it. I love soccer.”

“Cool. See you tomorrow afternoon. Oh, hey, what’s your name?”

“Oh, sorry, it’s Keatyn.”

“Cool name. I think you’re in my student advisor group tomorrow. I get to show you all around school.”

“Can’t wait.” I don’t hide my lack of excitement.

“Don't worry. I’m not gonna show you all the boring things they want us to. We’ll have fun. See ya tomorrow.” She takes her tray and sits next to the gorgeous dark-haired boy I stole the ball from, an equally gorgeous brunette, and some other very cute boys, one of whom is the Jake guy who opened my car door earlier. I can tell right away: if there’s a popular table at this school, I’m looking at it.

For a second, I feel a longing to be popular.

A longing to sit at that table.

But, no. I’m not doing that here.

That’s the table I’ll be avoiding at all costs. I am never going to sit there.

The gorgeous brunette catches my eye, and I get the feeling that I’m being sized up as a threat. Her glare is very calculating, not at all like Peyton’s. And I already know. She’s the Queen of the table. She’s the Vanessa of this school.

I suddenly feel a little awkward.

Okay, I feel a lot awkward.

I try to smile and look confident while I look around and figure out where I’m going to sit. Do I go sit by some people I don't even know and introduce myself? Should I sit by myself? What would cool movie girl do?

I spot Dallas, and he waves me over.

I weave my way through the tables toward him. All of a sudden, the God of All Hotties, brother of Peyton, is standing in front of me blocking my way.

“Sweet moves.” He looks down at my boots. “I don’t think I've ever seen anyone play soccer in cowboy boots.”

He laughs. He has an easy, sexy laugh.

It makes me miss Brooklyn.

He’s so easy to make laugh. Okay, so, granted, he’s high a lot, and that makes him think things are funny. But still, it’s cute.

I pretend like I don’t recognize him. “Were you out there today? Like on the soccer field?”

“Uh, yeah.” He looks offended. “I was the goalie.”

“Oh, wow, so that was you, huh?” This guy is almost too perfect-looking to be real. I doubt he has any trouble getting girls, probably has a huge ego, and probably is heading to the popular table as we speak.

Don’t want any part of that.

“Yeah,” he says, just a bit awkwardly.

“So, wait. You’re Peyton’s brother?”

“Guilty,” he says, holding up his hands.

“She’s gorgeous.”

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself. And you have a mean kick. I’m curious. What possessed you to run out on the field like that?”

Did he just call me gorgeous?!

OMG!

Calmness, zenness, chillness, be with me now.

Please!

“Oh,” I awkwardly giggle. “I don’t know. Just saw the ball and felt like it. Sorry. It was probably stupid of me. I guess I just got caught up in the moment.”

“I liked it, even though you made me miss.” He stands just a little closer to me and lowers his voice. “Well, really, you kinda embarrassed me. I don’t usually miss. But you—I couldn’t stop looking at you. I kinda forgot about the ball until it was whooshing by my head.”

“I think you were just shocked to see a girl running down the field in cowboy boots and a dress.”

“That’s for sure. Not something you see every day around here. But I hope I get to see you more.”

“Really?”

His gorgeous green eyes are practically drilling their way into my soul as we speak.

I’m not going to swoon. I’m not going to act like probably every other girl acts in the presence of a hottie god. I’m going to walk away before I make a fool of myself.

But I can’t seem to make my feet move; instead, I stare at him. At the short blonde hair that is perfectly—almost artfully—messed up on the top. At those gorgeous green eyes. At his perfect smile.

I manage to say, “Hey, it was nice to meet you.”

I attempt to squeeze around his tall, perfect chest, but my body brushes against his, and I almost jump from the surge of electricity.

I get around him and quickly walk over to sit in the relative safety of the boys’ table.

“See you were talking to Aiden,” Riley says.

“Who’s Aiden?” I’m still in a bit of a daze. I mean, who could blame me? I was just touched by a god.

“The guy you were just talking to. The goalie from today?”

“Oh, yeah. I guess,” I shrug.

“You should know he’s a total player.” Riley tells me this like it’s something I really need to know. Which kinda pisses me off.

“Really? And you’re not? You’ve been trying to do nothing since we met but convince me of your playing skills, and now you’re condemning him for it?”

Dallas is like, “Dude, she’s got a point.”

Riley quips back, “I’m not a player, Kiki. I just want to settle down with a hot, stripper-named girl on my arm.”

“Shut up. Seriously. Skip the Kiki crap.”

I shove some lasagna into my mouth and wish my mouth was doing something else.

Something with this Aiden boy.

Seriously, what is wrong with me? Why am I drooling over the some random hottie?

No hotties. No popular table. No falling in love.

I eat my food, then go with the boys to the new student mixer. It’s pretty boring, honestly, but I meet some more freshman boys. I’ve decided freshman boys can be really sweet.

Dallas and Riley get bored, so we leave and walk around outside for a bit.

I drop them off at their dorm and am walking to my dorm when I hear, “Hey, Boots!”

Boots?

I turn around, and there is gorgeous goalie boy.

God of all Hotties.

“Are you talking to me?”

“Yeah, you didn't tell me your name, and since you’re wearing those cute cowboy boots, I thought I'd call you Boots.”

“Boots is the name of the monkey on Dora the Explorer.” What? Is he an idiot?

“Who's Dora the Explorer?”

“It’s a kid’s show. Seriously, you've never heard of it? Swiper, no swiping? Backpack? Map? Tico, the squirrel?”

He looks at me with a blank face. “Uh, I don't think so. So . . . ?”

“So, what?”

“Are you gonna tell me your name, or what?”

“Oh, sure.” Then I get a little swagger back. “If you tell me yours first.”

You show me yours; I’ll show you mine is what I wish I could say.

He stares at me for a second, the same way Grandpa looks at a fish he's trying to size up. Seeing if he should throw me back in or not.

He puts his hand out for me to shake and says, “Hi, I'm Aiden."

I smile at him and let out a little nervous laugh.

I'm trying really hard to be cool with this guy.

Because the player comments are totally in my mind.

I don't want to fall for a player and get my heart broken. I just got my heart broken. Twice.

But I told myself I was going to make friends with everyone here, and it wouldn’t be fair of me to discriminate against him just because he’s hot. I should at least be polite, so I say, “I'm Keatyn."

It takes everything I have to let go of his hand when I shake it.

My hand belongs in his.

Forever.

Don’t laugh. I’m serious.

It belongs in his forever.

“Really? I've never known a girl with that name. Only guys.”

I stand there and stare at him, not sure if I'm supposed to be offended or not.

“So, Boots,” he grins. “You have a date for the dance Saturday night?”

“Uh, no. I've only been here for, like, five hours. I don't know very many people yet.”

“Well you've certainly made an impression on the male population.”

I roll my eyes. “I highly doubt that. Unless, of course, their impression is that I'm freaking nuts, because apparently that's what a lot of the girls thought. Or so my roommate tells me.”

He laughs. This laugh is deep and sexy. It’s kind of a growl.

Grrr, baby, grrr.

Yeah, I didn’t say that.

He says, “Freaking hot, yes. Freaking nuts, probably. Freaking adorable, absolutely. Plus, I have a lotta respect for a girl who can score on me.”

Before I can edit myself, I blurt out, “Funny, I've heard just the opposite.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I don't know. I just heard you’re a major player. Usually players don't have much respect for the girls they, uh, score with.”

He narrows his eyes at me. I think I just pissed him off.

It’s cute.

He leans in toward me and sorta breathlessly says, “How do you know it’s not just cuz I haven't met the right girl yet? Maybe I'm really a hopeless romantic, a sensitive soul. I know that doesn't sound very cool, but it’s true. I'm looking for that special girl, so I guess you're right. I figure out pretty quickly if things are good or not. And if they aren't, well then, why waste my time? And I haven’t scored with all the girls I’ve dated. I'm really not all that experienced.”