by Jillian Dodd
“Me too,” Annie says. “Although I do have a screen shot of him asking me. And Maggie took pictures.”
I still have the stupid stars, I think.
She spins around. “What ever happened with your stars, Aiden? I keep thinking I’ll see someone post them on Facebook.”
“What stars?” Annie asks.
I ignore Annie and say in a stern voice, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
She looks hurt and turns back around.
I rake my fingers through my hair in frustration then lean down and pretend to be interested in doodling.
I pretend not to notice when she sneaks a peek back at me.
A few minutes later, she drops a note over her shoulder.
Why don’t you want to talk about it?
Maybe I’m embarrassed about it.
Awwww. Aiden . . . Did she say no?
Not exactly. It just didn’t work out.
I’m sorry.
And maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but I have to ask.
What would you have said?
Like if I didn’t have a boyfriend or a date already?
Yes, hypothetically. If someone asked you like that, would you have liked it?
If you would have laid next to her on the bed, touched her pinkie, and asked, I think it would have been perfect.
Better than naked chests?
Different than naked chests. The stars were romantic and they must have taken freaking FOREVER to hang up.
They were a pain in the ass. Kinda like the girl.
I probably shouldn’t tell you this but Shark told me in detention that you have a crush on someone who doesn’t like you back. He said you’ve been waiting on the dream girl. I’m sorry it’s not working out the way you want it to. It sucks to have a crush on someone and not have them like you back.
Note to self: Kill Shark.
But then I reread her comment.
You know how that feels? That surprises me.
Yes, I know how it feels. I crushed on someone for almost two whole years before anything happened between us. Why does that surprise you?
Was it the Keats guy?
Yeah. We were friends before we dated. So, don’t give up on her. You know, like if you’re not too mad about the stars and stuff. My step dad says sometimes true love takes a bit. So if she really is your dream girl, you shouldn’t give up. But I thought the Keats guy was my dream guy.
He isn’t.
Or at least he isn’t right now. He loved me, but not . . . If that even makes sense.
Don’t give up on her? Is she so completely clueless that she doesn’t know I’m talking about her? Who does she think my dream girl is? I haven’t been with anyone but her all semester.
What didn’t he love about you? You seem fairly lovable.
I mean, when you’re not annoying.
We’re getting off topic here. I’m supposed to be helping you with your dream girl problems.
And I told you that I don’t want to talk about it.
So stop asking.
You could tell me who she is. Then maybe I could help.
I don’t think that would help. But maybe if I knew what happened with you and the Keats guy, I could avoid making the same mistakes with her.
I hate to break it to you, but if you asked her out and she said no, she maybe shouldn’t be your dream girl.
Like, sometimes you think they are the dream.
But then they get mad at you for buying Italian leather in Italy.
But how could they? I mean, it’s ITALY!!!!
And then they get mad at you for dancing on top of a bar or with guys at a club.
But sometimes you can’t help yourself!
Cuz you like to have fun!
And sometimes when they don’t want to have fun with you, they sit around and pout. That should probably tell you that it isn’t going to work.
Unless they change.
But if you have to change for someone, then you are not still you, and that’s bad too. You have to be careful not to lose yourself in the process.
I think . . .
Really, I’m rambling and I shouldn’t have offered to help. I don’t think I know what true love is. Or how to spot it. Every time I think I know, I’m proven wrong. Maybe that’s what happened to you.
You were just wrong about it.
Love is a tricky bitch.
Do you know about the Greek goddess, Aphrodite?
I can’t help but chuckle at her answer. I’m going to assume that’s why she and Brooklyn are not together. He didn’t appreciate her love of the spotlight.
She’s the goddess of love, right?
Or, maybe, seduction. I think she’s tricky, mostly. She teases us with the idea of love. She and Disney probably have a deal. Get young girls to watch princess movies. Get them to believe in fairytale endings. Then when they grow up, they will have unrealistic expectations of what true love is about.
I mean, seriously, do I think some guy is going to ride up on a white horse and rescue me and we’ll fall in love and have little hottie babies and it will be all magical and amazing?
Actually, yes, I do.
It worked. That is what I want. That’s really what EVERY girl wants.
But then there’s Aphrodite. She gets you to fall in love.
Tricks you with sex and seduction. Then she names your baby AWFUL.
Or she makes you believe in soul mates. But then she sleeps with someone else. She lets guys quote you poetry, which makes you all swoon, but then you find out that they don’t really mean it. They just want to sleep with you.
And then they’re good in bed. And sweet. But you know the other shoe is gonna drop. So you are afraid to say it. To tell someone that you love them.
But then you do.
Because you believe in love.
Cuz, hell, I don’t even know why. Because you just do. I mean who doesn’t want to believe that their soul mate is out there? Their other half? The person who will love every annoying thing about them.
But, really, it’s probably mostly bullshit.
That part about quoting her poetry. Does she think that I just wanted to sleep with her?
Just for the record, your lips were my bliss.
See. Case in point why love sucks. You were playing me. Telling me sweet stuff when you were really in love with someone else. You’re lucky I’m even willing to try to be friends. I should hate you.
Actually, sometimes, I kinda do.
I grin.
Sometimes, I kinda hate you, too.
And that is what might save our friendship. We don’t have to worry about having love get in the way. You love someone else (even though you probably shouldn’t) and I’m in love with someone else.
(Even though you probably shouldn’t.)
By the way, you haven’t tutored me all week.
I know. I’m not sure I can tonight either.
I lean up and whisper in her ear. “You better be there, or I’ll quit Social Committee.”
“So quit. I’m tired of you telling me that. If you don’t want to be there, then just quit.”
I lean up a little closer and sigh. “I need you. Please?”
She turns around to answer me, but when she does, her cheek smashes into my lips.
“You want me to kiss you, all you have to do is ask. You don’t have to try and be all sneaky about it.”
She gets mad, whipping her head forward and flipping her hair in my face. “Kissing you is the last thing I want to do,” she mutters.
“In your life?” I can’t help but tease her. Even though I’m serious.
“What?”
“Are you telling me that will be your dying wish? It’s the last thing I want to do. Have his lips on mine. Then I can die happy,” I say dramatically.
“You really should’ve tried out for the play. Drama king.”
“I’m not a drama king.”
“Ha! Everything about you is drama.” She turns b
ack around and smirks at me. “Big production. But no one is buying the tickets.”
“And you’re the little production that gets out of hand. Turns into a massive time and money pit. Then goes straight to DVD.”
She looks hurt and tears spring into her eyes. “That’s harsh.” She dabs the corner of her eye for effect. Hangs her head down a little.
It’s funny, but I can play along. I pretend to feel bad. “I was just teasing. I already told you that you’d get amazing reviews and I . . .”
She lets her face break into a wide shit-eating grin.
“Seriously? You can bring on the fake tears that easily?”
She shrugs a shoulder. “It’s a gift.”
You’re not dead.
5:30pm
My sister and I are walking down to the field house together.
“Are you going to ask anyone to Homecoming?” she asks me. “Usually, you’d have a date by now.”
“I think Logan and I are going stag,” I reply noncommittally. “What about you?”
“I’m thinking of asking someone who doesn’t go to the school. Maybe an alum.”
“Just tell me it’s not Camden.”
She smirks. “Maybe.”
“Why? After the shit he put you through. I don’t even know how you could be friends with him after that.”
“It’s been a long time since Cam and I broke up. We’ve grown up. And there’s no one here I want to date. They’re all boys. I’m ready for a man.”
I shake my head. “Sometimes I don’t get you.”
“I’m a woman. We change our minds. Get used to it.”
As we enter the field house, I see Keatyn and Dawson standing by the locker room door, kissing.
Then he smacks her ass.
It takes everything I have not to go pound him into the ground.
Not to mention the fact that I’m pissed at Keatyn. She stood me up for tutoring today. Now I know why.
My sister gives her a smile as Keatyn heads in our direction.
I raise my eyebrows at her and frown. “So you’re not dead.”
Peyton smacks me on the shoulder. “Be nice.”
“She ditched me.”
“I did ditch him,” Keatyn says. “I’m sorry. I, um . . . I had something else I needed to do, and I kinda forgot to text you.”
Peyton giggles. “Was that thing you needed to do Dawson?”
Keatyn’s mouth drops open. “Um . . .”
I shake my head at her.
“He’s going home with his parents after the game, so I won’t get to see him tonight. I just, we just, I wanted to say goodbye. And he . . . ”
He’s going away? A smile plays on my lips. “That’s understandable,” I say. “So then we’ll have to do it tonight.”
“You have a game.”
“After the game. After curfew.”
“Everyone is going to the Cave tonight.”
“Everyone but us,” I tell her. “We’ll be in my room studying.” Or dancing, hopefully.
“No. No, we won’t.”
“Will Dawson get jealous?”
“No, he has nothing to be jealous of, but I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. I love Dawson.”
I tilt my head at her. She told him she loves him?
“Yes, Aiden. I told Dawson I love him. Yes, I was confused for a while about love. That happens after you go through a break-up. It’s normal to question it and become more cynical of love because you don’t want to get hurt again. But Dawson’s not going to hurt me.”
“Awww,” Peyton says. Quite honestly, I forgot my sister was still standing here. “When did you tell him?”
“It was the other night. I told him I hearted him. He asked if that was close to loving him. I hadn’t said it because I was scared to. But he makes me happy, and I wanted him to know it.”
“I love that feeling,” Peyton gushes back. “It’s so dream—”
I interrupt her. I don’t need to hear this shit. “I’ll let you ladies finish your love fest here. I have to get in the locker room.” But before I leave, I gaze into Keatyn’s eyes and say, “I know where we can go. I’ll be outside your window at one. We’ll study then go party with everyone.”
“Really?” she asks.
I shrug. I can’t have her thinking I’m going to sit around and wait for her. “What? You think you’re the only one with plans?”
Where’s the harem?
1am
When it’s finally time, I go to her room. Not that I’ve been counting down the minutes. Okay, maybe I have.
I knock on her window softly to let her know I’m here.
She slides out of it. I catch her. She looks so damn sexy. Her hair is down and curled. She’s wearing jean shorts, a thermal shirt, and the boots she wore the day we met.
“What are you doing?” she says.
“Just catching you,” I reply sweetly.
She tries to push out of my arms, but I hold firm. “You can let go now,” she says.
I gently drop her to the ground and look at her feet. “You’re wearing boots.”
“I wear boots all the time.”
“Not those boots. You haven’t worn those since the day we met.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ve been sort of mad at them.”
I tilt my head to the side and squint at her. “Mad at your boots? You can’t be mad at those boots.”
“I’m not anymore. We made up.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. Let’s get French done so we can go party.” I place my hand on the small of her back to guide her, causing her to jump.
“You’re awfully jumpy tonight.”
“Stop touching me then,” she states a little too emphatically.
I do as she asks for the moment and lead her up to the chapel, which is open all night. Plus, it’s sort of our place.
I know she probably thinks that since Dawson is gone I’m going to try to monopolize her time, but I’m not.
I study with her in an almost business-like fashion, working mostly on my word enunciation for the verbal portion of our upcoming test.
My phone keeps vibrating throughout our studying. I may have purposely texted a lot of people, knowing they would text me back while we were here.
I close my book. “I think I’ve got it. I’ll keep working on it this weekend, but at least I know the proper way to say everything now.” I ignore her and glance at my phone, which is loaded with texts. From girls. And Logan and Nick. And more girls. “I better get going.”
“Um, okay. Yeah, me too,” she says, glancing at her phone like there’s something important in it. But I know better. If Dawson had texted her, she would have replied right away. And I haven’t heard her phone ding or buzz since we arrived.
We walk to the Cave in the moonlight. When we get to the clearing, I say, “Thanks for helping me. Have a good night.” Then I walk away, heading straight toward Nick and Logan, who are fortunately standing with a group of cheerleaders.
Unfortunately for me, a drunk Chelsea wraps her arms around my neck in greeting.
While her arms are still around me, I glance at Keatyn. She’s standing alone. A quick look around tells me her friends are already paired off for the night.
“Let’s get out of here, go back to your dorm,” Chelsea says, slurring. She’s even drunker than I thought.
“Um, hold that thought,” I tell her, pushing her aside and grabbing a joint out of Logan’s hand and taking a hit. Ashley bounces up to me, shoves her boobs out, and hands me a shot.
We clink our glasses and slam the shots together. Then she starts dancing in front of me, grabbing my hands and trying to get me to dance with her.
What the hell, I think, and break out a little arm shimmy, causing Logan and Ashley to cheer.
I manage to avoid both Chelsea and Ashley’s blatant offers to hook up by telling them I have some catching up to do. I sit down in a circle on a log next to Logan. He starts telling a story about how we snuck out dur
ing our soccer camp last summer. I can’t help but laugh and help him tell the story.
Keatyn is directly in my line of site though, and I watch as she talks to Shark and then my sister, the three of them sharing a joint.
I say I have to take a leak, leaving the group to go sit next to my sister. Shark hands me a joint. I don’t think twice.
A girl leans down in front of Shark and whispers drunkenly, Let's hook up. He stands up, tells us, Duty calls, and leaves with the girl.
Peyton gives me a look. I nod at her, and she says, “There’s Brad. I need to talk to him.”
Leaving me sitting alone with Keatyn.
“Where’s the harem?” she asks sarcastically, as her phone vibrates.
As she reads it, sadness washes over her face. Her phone drops to the ground.
I pick it up and read the messages.
Dawson: I lobe you
Keatyn: I love you too.
Dawson: I druk.
Keatyn: You’re drunk? Where are you?
