Kiss Me
“Yeah, I don’t know what got into me. Well, actually I do. That was payback for what you did to me during the game last week.”
“When I had my hands under your sweatshirt?”
“Yeah, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
He kisses me. “You liked that, huh?”
“I did, obviously.”
“So, I talked to my parents last night.”
“Oh, what about?”
“About you.”
“Why?”
He kisses me sweetly. “Because Riley and my little bro, Braxton, have been talking. About how nice I’ve been lately. Brax told Mom. They wanted to hear about you. Then my mom got off the phone and my dad was like, So, why are you so happy?
“What did you tell him?”
“I just said you are amazing.”
“And?”
“He said I seemed more carefree with you, happy. I was finally like, Dad, is happy supposed to be code word for are we having sex and is that what is making me happy?
And my dad was like, I’m old, I don’t get to date pretty young things, so yes, that’s what I was wondering.”
“Did you tell your dad?” My eyes get huge.
“You told your mom and stepdad.”
“Oh, gosh. I’ll never be able to look at him.”
“I just told him he was right about you making me very happy. So, he knew. Plus, he and I talked before about how, you know, Whitney never seemed like she wanted to with me, and I wondered if it was me, if I was doing something wrong. Actually, I tried to have that talk with my older brother, but dad overheard us and, since then, he’s been kinda anti-Whitney. They want to meet you soon.”
“Oh, if he’s anti-Whitney, then he’s my new favorite person. I’d love to meet your parents.”
I grab his face in my hands and plant a big kiss on him just as the bell rings.
“Damn classes,” he says, “just when things were getting good. You going to the game with me tonight? Or you hanging with your friends?”
“Both?”
“So the guys and I have a little tradition of going to this Mexican restaurant before the Freshman games. Taco Tuesday.”
“Oh, okay. Then I’ll just hang out with my friends and see you later.”
“I have a better idea.”
“What’s that?”
“Come with us.”
“No. I’m not intruding on boy night.”
“They suggested I bring you. So, tonight, if you want, you get to be one of the guys.”
I smile. “I’d like that.”
Love the boots.
1:15am
Riley, Dallas and I are lying on a blanket, having already smoked a bit and are just big chilling.
“So, tell me about your new girls.”
Dallas says, “Well, I got another pair of panties after the game tonight.”
Riley is like, “Whose?”
“That Sarah chick in our math class. What’d you and Ariela do?”
“Just kissed.”
“Kisses are nice,” I say dreamily.
“Especially the places you’ve been getting kissed,” Riley says.
“You don’t know anything.”
“I have a really good imagination. And don’t think my brother doesn’t confide in me, because he does. He and I have gotten closer this year.”
“What’s he been telling you?”
“Just that you turn him on. I guessed about the library thing. When it was just us throwing at practice today, he confirmed it. He told me that tonight he wanted to try and make you feel really good. I’m assuming, based on how dreamy you’re acting, and the fact you left at half, that he succeeded.”
“Wait,” Dallas says. “What happened in the library?”
“Kiki was naughty in a private study room.”
“How naughty?”
“Not all the way naughty, but pretty naughty. My brother is lucky.”
Dallas rolls over toward me, close to my face. This is usually how he starts to kiss me. Then he just looks at me and says, “Yeah, he is.”
It makes me want to kiss him. I even grab his face and hold it in my hands, just looking at him. He’s so adorable.
“So, I’m really nervous about this whole campaign speech thing on Thursday. It just seems so short. How am I supposed to convince people to vote for me when they only give you four days to campaign? What do you think I should say? Part of me wishes I hadn’t done it. With soccer, dance, Social Committee, French club, tutoring Aiden, homework, and Dawson, I’m majorly crunched for time. Plus, I hate not winning. And I’m new. I probably don’t stand a chance.”
“You have a good chance. How’s tutoring the god going?” Dallas asks.
“It’s fine. Sometimes I think we might be able to be friends. So, what should I say?”
Riley says, “I don't think it matters what you say. Just look hot. All the guys will vote for you.”
“And what do guys find hot?”
Dallas says, “The boots. Love the boots.”
I get back in through my window and am trying to quietly get to my closet to get undressed, when I trip over a box lying in the middle of the floor.
“Keatyn, what are you doing?” Katie says groggily.
“Oh, I was just . . .”
“Getting back from sneaking out to see Dawson?”
“Uh, no, with Riley and Dallas.”
“Take me next time. Riley is hot. I don’t think I would mind if that boy used me. And Dallas is adorable. I think he’d be fun to kiss. Oh, and that box you tripped over was delivered for you today. I forgot to tell you earlier.”
I take the box into the closet, turn on the light, and open it. Inside are a pair of gorgeous cowboy boots. They are black, navy, and brown, with cut-out designs in red and golden-yellow leather. I look at the name on the box. It’s from the boot shop in East Texas where my grandpa has his boots custom made. Custom boots and a brand new truck every year are his two big splurges.
Inside one of the boots is a note from Grandpa.
Can’t let my Hotshot get all uppity out there or turn into some damn, Yankee. Had Javier make these for you. Don’t be afraid to kick some ass and raise a little hell.
Love you, Papa.
I get little tears in my eyes. Grandpa had cowboy boots custom-made just for me? It’s way too late to call. I look at what’s inside the rest of the box. There are three more looks to go with the boots from Kym. I decide that on Thursday, I’m going to kick a little ass, East Texas style.
Wednesday, September 14th
A fiercer hell.
8pm
I’m sitting in the library studying and waiting for Dawson to meet me. I get a wonderful email from my interior designer with drawings, photos, and floor plans for the new loft. I excitedly comment and approve all of it. Then I think about my old closet. I email Kym and ask if she has a photo of it. She quickly emails it back to me. I forward the closet photo to the designer and tell him I’d like my new closet to look as close to that as possible.
There isn’t really anything going on tonight. Which is good, because I have a long list of homework and projects on my to do list.
Dawson shows up and starts to work on his homework, but he gets bored and starts messing around with me. He keeps poking my sides randomly, trying to make me scream and get in trouble. Then he grabs my long to do list and writes his name at the top.
“Very cute,” I say to him.
My phone buzzes on the table in front of us. There is a text from Brooklyn, who I haven’t heard a peep from in exactly eleven days. Not that I’m counting, I just expected him to try to apologize sooner.
B