Date Me

Me: I miss my parents. Talk to them. They’re dropping you off at Cam’s tonight, right?



Dawson: Yeah, we’re going to a party.



Me: I’m jealous.



Dawson: I’ll probably be texting you the whole time. I love you.



Me: I heart you.



Where’s the harem?



1am



It seems like I just shut my eyes and all of a sudden Katie’s phone alarm is going off.



She pops out of bed, pulls her jeans on, and practically dives out the window. “I’ll see you at the Cave, okay?”



“Sure,” I say. I peek at my clock, see it’s a few minutes to one, and try to figure out what I want to wear. Dawson won’t be here to keep me warm, so I throw on a long-sleeved Free People thermal shirt and some Rag & Bone jean shorts. I look at the Golden Goose boots that Cush gave me. They’d be perfect with this outfit.



I haven’t worn them since he told me his mom bought them. I’ve been sort of mad at them.



I pick the boots up and run my hand across the leather.



It’s not their fault that Cush lied. It really doesn’t matter how they became mine, what matters is what I thought. That these boots are everything I want to be.



I put the boots down on the floor and slide my feet into them.



Perfect.



My hear a little knock on my window and know it’s Aiden.



I climb out the window, laughing at how easily I glide out now. How different my life is now than when school started.



My boots should hit the ground about now, but instead I find myself sliding down Aiden’s body as he catches me.



“What are you doing?” I say madly. I don’t want to be in his stupid arms.



“Just catching you,” he says sweetly.



It’s really hard to be mad at someone that looks the way he does. Tonight, with the moonlight shining down on him, he almost looks angelic.



Asshole.



I try to push out of his arms, but he holds me tightly. “You can let go now,” I say.



He drops me to the ground and looks down at my feet. “You’re wearing boots.”



“I wear boots all the time.”



“Not those boots. You haven’t worn those since the day we met.”



How does he even know that?



I roll my eyes. “I’ve been sort of mad at them.”



He tilts his head to the side and squints his eyes at me. “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.”



His hand curves across the small of my back.



Electricity shoots straight up my spine, causing me to arch my back and jump away from him.



“You’re awfully jumpy tonight.”



“Stop touching me then,” I state a little too emphatically.



He stops touching me and leads me to the chapel, which is apparently open all night. I think I knew that, but had forgotten it.



We study in a very business-like fashion. Our test on Monday has a speaking portion, so mostly we work on his word enunciation.



“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.” He looks at his phone, which is loaded with texts. From girls. And Logan and Nick. And girls. “I better get going.”



“Um, okay. Yeah, me too,” I say, glancing at my phone like there’s something important in it. All my friends begging for me to get there. Unfortunately, there are no texts from anyone.



My friends suck.



When we get to the clearing known as The Cave, Aiden says, “Thanks for helping me. Have a good night.”



I watch him go over to where Nick and Logan are standing. A cheerleader that I don’t really know wraps her arms around Aiden's neck in a greeting.



I study her. Wondering if that’s what Aiden's dream girl looks like.



She's petite, with long dark hair, and a sweet smile. Her eyes are small and just a little too close together, but other than that she has a nicely proportioned face. And a body. A killer body. That kind of curvy body that boys love and I couldn’t get with the best plastic surgeon in all of Beverly Hills.



I look around.



All my friends are paired off. Which explains their lack of texts. Annie is sitting on a log with Ace. Heads together. Holding hands. Deep in conversation. Maggie is making out with Parker up against a tree. Katie isn’t really visible because Dallas is lying on top of her, groping her shirt.



Jake has his arm wrapped around Whitney. She’s smoking a cigarette and he’s drinking whiskey straight out of a bottle.



My eyes flit back to Aiden and the girl.



“S’up, girly,” Shark says, wandering over to stand next to me.



He appears to be a little tipsy, but his eyes follow mine straight to Aiden.



“Is she the dream girl?” I ask him.



“Chelsea? No.”



“She seems to like him.”



Shark laughs. "All the girls like him."



I watch as another girl bounces up to Aiden, shoves her boobs out, and hands him a shot. They click glasses and slam the shots together. Then she starts dancing in front of him. Grabbing his hands and trying to get him to dance with her.



“It appears that they do.” I say, realizing I’ve never seen this side of Aiden. He’s flirting. Laughing. Drinking. Doing shots. He even does a little arm shimmy, which gets the girls all worked up.



He, Nick, and Logan are literally surrounded by girls.



Weird.



“So who do you think will be Homecoming Queen? I’m having a tough time with the odds,” Shark admits.



“Why?”



“Because history suggests that Whitney will win. Every other Clarke has won. But there are other factors.”



“What factors?”



“My personal opinion is supposed to stay out of the odds. I always look at the facts. But the fact is, I don’t care for Whitney much. I’d rather see Mariah or Peyton win. Also, the freshman class is large this year, and I have no idea how they will vote. One would think based on Whitney’s lack of activities, it would give Peyton and Mariah an advantage.”



“Can I tell you a secret?”



He leans his head close to mine. “Will it affect the odds?” He pulls out a flask, takes a swig, and hands it to me.



I nod my head as I take a swig. When the alcohol hits my throat, I want to spit it out. It burns all the way down to my stomach. “What is this?”



“Everclear. Hundred proof. Fastest way to get drunk.”



“Are you trying to get drunk fast?”



He gives me a wide smirk. “No, but I have been known to share with an attractive female or two.”



I laugh. “I see. Trying to get the girl drunk fast.”



“So, tell me the secret.”



“Ninety percent of the freshman class voted for me for Student Council. I never would have gotten on it otherwise. And I was thinking . . .”



“Of swaying their vote?”



I grin at him. “Yeah. But I don't want anyone to know. I want to sway quietly.”



“An underground campaign. Excellent.”



“Something like that. Whitney hates me. And I'm not doing it to be mean to her, but I just think a person that is more involved in school activities should win.”



“So Peyton or Mariah?”



“I'll vote for Peyton, and I hope she wins.”



Shark and I sit down on a newly vacated log. The couple that was sitting here has wandered off, hand in hand.



It makes me miss Dawson.



Directly across the circle of logs, right in my line of sight, is Aiden. Logan sitting on his left. Two girls on each side of them and three girls sitting in front of them in the dirt. Logan appears to be telling a story, and Aiden is occasionally interjecting a comment and laughing.



Aiden's blond hair is practically glowing in the moonlight. The shadows playing across his face make him look angular and more mature. And when he smiles, it's like a god reached down and touched the forest with light.



Shark pulls out a joint and lights it up as Peyton sits down next to him. “What's up, girlie?” Shark says to her.



“I hope you're sharing,” she replies.



He nods, takes a hit, and passes it to her. She takes a big hit, holding it in her lungs for a long time, then slowly breathes out and hands it to me. “Whitney's pissed at me.”



“Why?” I ask, as I pass the joint back to Shark.



“Because I'm going with you this weekend. And I didn't even mention a new dress. She would have come unglued.”



“What did you tell her?”



“That we’re shopping for dress-up days for the dance team.” She takes another deep hit. “Ah, much better.”



Aiden walks over and sits down next to his sister. Shark hands him another joint. As he sucks in, the stubble on the side of his face becomes more noticeable. All that light scruff.



I can sort of understand why the girls were literally sitting as his feet.



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 Aiden what appears to be some sort of godly telepathic message. They nod at each other and she says, “There's Brad. I need to talk to him.”



Leaving me sitting alone with Aiden.



“Where's the harem?” I ask, slightly sarcastically, as my phone vibrates.



Dawson: I lobe you



Me: I love you too.



Dawson: I druk.



Me: You’re drunk? Where are you?



Dawson: no shoes./'



Me: Where are you?



Dawson: gurl bed partzy



I feel like someone just stabbed me. My cell phone drops out of my hands.



Aiden picks my phone up, reads it, shakes his head, and hands it back to me.



"Um . . ." I look to Aiden, hoping he’ll say something reassuring. That all the awful thoughts I’m having about Dawson cheating couldn’t possibly be true.



But he doesn’t. He just looks at me. With those green eyes. Unfortunately, there’s no confidence in them, only sympathy.



He feels bad for me because he thinks Dawson is cheating on me.



And something else. Something that I always see when he looks at me. It’s like his eyes speak to me. Trying to get me to understand something. Something that resonates deep inside me.



But something that I don’t understand. It’s like being spoken to in a foreign language.



I don’t have a clue what it means.



But I do know what to do.



Me: Your brother is “druk,” can’t find his shoes, and is in a “gurl’s bed at a partzy.”



Riley: Shit.



Me: Yeah.



Aiden says, “Are you okay?”



“Not really. Have fun with the harem. I’m heading back to my room.”



“I’ll walk you. The harem will wait.”



I shake my head. “No, I’m fine.” Tears start leaking out of my eyes. I don’t want Aiden to see them, so I turn around and run. Run through the trees. Run to my dorm window. When I get there, I close my eyes, lean against the side of the building, and start to slide down into the grass.



Aiden is right there. He pins me against the brick wall, moves his leg between mine, and pushes his chest tightly against me.



He looks down at me, taking in my lips like he always does right before he kisses me.



But he doesn’t kiss me.



He shakes his head, wraps his arms around me, and hugs me.



Just hugs me.



Which really makes me start sobbing. “I’m never, ever telling a guy I love him again. It’s like I’m love cursed.”



He nuzzles his face into my hair and whispers soothingly, “You’re not love cursed. You just aren’t . . .”



“Just aren’t what?”



I feel his chest move deeply in and out, sighing against me. “Maybe he’s just drunk at the party. If he was hooking up, I doubt he’d stop to text you.”



“I think the hooking up is over and now he can’t find his shoes.”



“So you don’t trust him?”



“What do you mean?”



“I mean, when he left, did you trust him?”



“I did. He told me over and over not to worry. To trust him. That he loves me.”



“If he really loves you, he won’t cheat on you. Even if he’s drunk. You should have faith in the people you love. Maybe if you did, they wouldn’t let you down.”



I pull out of the hug and turn my back on him. “I’m going to cry alone in my room now. Thanks for your kind words,” I say sarcastically. But then I swing around madly. “So it’s my fault if he cheats?! That sounds like the kind of zen bullshit the Keats guy would tell me. I didn’t expect it from you. But I should have. It fits your whole player thing. The whole it’s-never-my-fault, take-no-responsibility-for-your-actions-because-it’s-easier-to-blame-fate, or cosmic forces, or someone else, than it is to admit that you just suck. Good night.”



He runs his hands down the sides of my arms and for reasons I don’t understand, it calms me down.



“Boots, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant that . . .” He pushes his hand through his hair, causing the ends to stick up a little. “Maybe the guy you’re with isn’t worthy of your love.”



“Yeah, maybe.”



My phone starts buzzing and buzzing.



“Who is it?” Aiden asks.



“It’s Riley,” I reply as I answer the phone. “Hey, Riley.”



“Where are you?”



“About to go in my room.”



“Cam wants to talk to you. I’ve got him on conference with me. Say hi, Cam.”