Kiss Me

“I’m not telling you!”



“Why not?”



“Because, it’s embarrassing. Duh!”



“Come on. It can’t be that bad.” He flashes his dazzling smile at me and slowly blinks his eyes. I’m pretty sure that’s how he triggers his mind control powers because I can’t bring myself to lie to him.



“Fine. She knew I was a virgin.”



“So?”



“So I was the only one, and I had a reputation as a party girl. I dated my perfect boyfriend for over a year. Everyone thought we were doing it, but we weren’t. She threatened to tell everyone that our relationship was a sham.”



“So, the Keats guy was your first?”



I shake my head. “No. There was one other guy.”



“Tell me about the Keats guy. You still talk to him.”



“I crushed on him for a couple years. He was like a whole new world compared to the people I was friends with at school. He liked surfing, smoking, dive bars, indie rock. When we went places it was casual, never really planned out. We got together this summer, he told me he loved me. Now, he doesn’t.”



“You told me in French he was stupid, but that’s all you said.”



“No. One embarrassing story is enough for tonight.”



“Tell me. Then I’ll tell you one.”



“You have an embarrassing story?”



“Yep.”



“Fine. So I went to see him. He was with another girl while I was there.”



“So, he sort of cheated on you?”



“No. We weren’t going out. Wait. Whose side are you on?”



“Yours. Always yours,” he says. “I’m just asking. He sounds like a jerk.”



“He does.”



“So, back to your friends. He wasn’t acceptable. So you fought against them?”



“Yeah, I tried to. I loved him.”



Aiden touches my finger with his. “You should love me,” he says sweetly.



But I laugh. I can’t love Aiden. Aiden could destroy me, and I can’t take any more destruction in my life. Before I can reply, he grins at me and says, “Actually, don’t. I don’t want to be the rebound. Dawson is obviously a rebound.”



I shake my head and roll my eyes at him. “No, he isn’t.”



He gets up off his bed, presses play on his phone, and holds out his hand. “Come on. You still owe me those dances.”



I stand up and he pulls me into his arms.



I close my eyes and breathe in his godly scent—warm musk mixed with an intoxicating bit of clove and possibly some golden glitter and fairy dust.



I barely hear the songs play. All I can think about is how Aiden’s hands are touching my lower back. About how close his cheek is to mine. I lean a little closer.



As was the case before, dancing with Aiden is practically otherworldly. As hot as sex is with Dawson, I can’t help but wonder how it would feel with Aiden. It’s as if the dance is just a preview of how amazing it could be. And as we’re standing here together, swaying slowly, I swear my heart jumps out of my chest, mates with his, and comes back to me.



WTF!?



Did I seriously just think that? My heart mated with his? Oh, baby Jesus, it is time for me to get out of here.



Is he burning some kind of incense? Did he put some hallucinogenic mushrooms in the Gatorade he let me have a sip of? What the hell is wrong with me?



I pull back just a little and break the spell.



Well, I break the spell until he smiles at me. He has his eyes closed when he first looks toward me, then he slowly opens them, offering me just slivers of dazzling green. When he sees me looking at him, his mouth—that-gods-be-damned-for-creating-it mouth—curls into a sweet grin.



“I love dancing with you,” he says.



“It is nice,” I say, like an idiot. Of all the words I could use to describe the way I feel when I’m dancing with him and all I can come up with is the word most overused by fourth graders?



He’s still holding me in his arms. And I really don’t want him to let go.



“It’s almost curfew; you better go,” is what he says, but he tightens his hold on me.



I make myself blink. It seems to help fight his powers. Breaking the spell for a moment or something.



“Yeah,” I say, a little too breathlessly. But what I’m thinking is Kiss me. Please, Athena, Zeus, Apollo, whoever, make him kiss me.



Shit. How does he do that to me? It’s like he telepathically puts thoughts into my head.



I don’t want to kiss him. I like Dawson.



He leans in and gets as close to my lips as possible, without touching them. “Too bad you have a boyfriend, or I’d be kissing you now.”



I swallow hard.



Because I had momentarily stopped breathing, a pile of spit had collected in the back of my throat. It was either swallow or choke.



“He’s not my boyfriend.” As my lips move to speak the words, they just brush against Aiden’s, and the feeling is more electrifying than if I had actually kissed him.



I pull back, shocked.



“I really have to go,” I murmur, and then get the hell out of there and race to my dorm.



But I’m seven minutes late.



Which is like a half a second in god years, so you’d think it wouldn’t be held against me, but it is.



I now have seven minutes times three of detention.



Twenty-one minutes of detention.



Where I am supposed to sit and think about why I am there.



Fan-freaking-tastic.



Monday, September 12th



It’d be way hot.



Ceramics



Today I officially start campaigning for Student Council office. Annie, Katie, Maggie, and a slew of freshmen boys that I talked into helping us start hanging up signs at six this morning. Riley and Dallas refused to get up that early, but show up anyway, and are a big help. The school is plastered with Keatyn Monroe signs.



I have three things going for me. First, our signs turned out awesome! They are sparkly and full of school spirit! If you don’t know who you’re voting for, that’s okay! Vote for school spirit!



I hope.



Secondly, I have candy. The Milk Duds have been a big hit already. And Milk Duds are like the Holy Grail for those still in braces. Which is most of the freshman class, which happens to be the largest class in the school. And, since they are all new, like me, I figure they should be a big focus. This school does voting for Student Council different than my old school. Instead of each class voting for their class officers, the entire school votes for each grade’s representatives. The person with the most votes is the president of their class. The second is the vice president. And the third and fourth most votes are class representatives. So my goal is to get enough votes to at least make representative.



And, thirdly, if I do have a platform, it’s social events, which I would like to see more of.



So, during lunch, I’m going to hand out a bunch of candy, introduce myself, and ask for votes. I wore a really cute look today, one that I think looks respectable and responsible; preppy, but sweet. I’m wearing the longer navy pleated skirt. An Escada pale blue ruffle-front blouse. Simple gold jewelry. Navy blazer. Sweet little white socks. Navy Rag & Bone platform Mary Janes. Hair twisted up into a cute little bun.



But right before I walked into ceramics, Dawson pinned me up against a locker, told me I look like a naughty librarian, and could he please meet with me in private later about some long-overdue fines.



Now I’m worried about how I look. I want to ask Bryce and Jake about it and also about possibly doing something fun for Dawson to repay him for the bleachers, but Jake is too busy complaining.



“I can’t even get her to go down on me. She used her hand. We’ve been going out for two weeks and dating for three.”



“I heard she doesn’t do that.”



“She didn’t with Dawson either?”



“Um, I think only when she was, like, super drunk.”



“Time to get the girl super drunk, I think.”



“Can I ask you a question?”



“Sure,” Bryce says.



“What is something a girl could do to you, possibly in public, that would make you really hot? Like, worship-her hot.”



Jake laughs. “So you wanna make Dawson worship you?”



I can feel my face get hot and know my cheeks are turning red. “Uh, maybe.”



“Road head. A girl does that to me, she goes way up in my book,” Jake says.



Bryce says, “True. But messing around somewhere that’s risky would be fun too.”



“Anywhere around school that feels risky, but isn’t really that risky?”



Jake considers that for a moment and scratches the side of his face. “I’ve always thought the private study rooms at the library. I tried to get a girl to do stuff with me once. We made out, but then she chickened out.”



“Any other thoughts?”



“I have dirty dreams about a girl coming in our locker room during halftime to help motivate me for the second half. She’s wearing nothing but a team jersey,” Bryce confesses. “But I think that would be impossible. What about the football field at night? The bleachers? Specifically, the lacrosse field bleachers. They’re the most private. And what about the cave?”



“Maybe.”



“Some people go in the cars that are parked at school. If it’s dark, no one would notice. Dawson has his car, but you have the back seat that folds down.”



“Have either of you ever done any of that? Or anything you thought was really hot?”



Bryce grins. “Football field, late, a few times, but the best was the bathrooms by the concession stands during a girl’s soccer game.”



Jake looks at him, shocked. “Who was that and when?”



“That Amanda chick who got kicked out and sent to rehab. It was fun, but she was kinda skanky.”



“So was the fact that she did you in the bathroom what made her skanky?”



“No, it was the fact that she did everyone in the bathroom that made her skanky.”



“So, Jake, if Whitney tried that on you would it be hot or skanky?”



They both agree. “It’d be way hot.”



Never putting my hair in a bun.



Lunch



Since Dawson already thinks I look like a naughty librarian, I decide to go with Jake’s suggestion of the private study rooms in the library.



I walk over to Riley and Dallas and give them some candy. “What do you think is better in reference to sexual stuff: getting completely surprised with it, or being surprised, but knowing a surprise is coming?”



“As long as you end up coming, what difference does it make?” Dallas quips.



“I’m serious.”



“Tell us your evil plan, mistress,” Riley says. “Hey, has anyone told you you kinda look like a hot librarian today?”



“What is it with you Johnson boys and librarians? All I know is I’m never putting my hair in a bun again! So? Answer my question. I’m running out of time.”



“I’d like to know the surprise is coming,” Dallas says.



“And I’d like to be completely surprised,” Riley says.



I know that Dawson likes to be surprised, but I also know he likes the anticipation just as much, so I walk over and whisper in his ear. “We do need to talk about your fines. You’ve been a very irresponsible boy. Meet me in the library at six.”



Then I keep working my way around the lunch room.



After lunch, Dawson is waiting for me outside. He looks me up and down and says, “You’ll totally get my vote. You look sexy, Keatie. Why six? That’s usually when we’re eating dinner.”



“Exactly, and I’m hoping the library is empty.”



“Oh, really,” he grins sexily. “Why’s that?”



“I already told you. You’ve been bad. So when you come to the library, you better be ready to pay your fines or offer me something in return.”



He grabs me around the waist and kisses me. “I’m so not going to be able to concentrate in class.”



Your lips are my what?



French



I sit down in French and tell Aiden, “I have twenty-one minutes of detention today after school because of you. Which means I will miss twenty-one minutes of dance, and your sister will yell at me.”



“It was worth it.” His eyes glitter at me.



“Which part?”



“Being late.”



“How so? You didn’t get in trouble.”



“No, but I learned some French on my own last night.” Dazzling smile.



Look away. Just look away from the light.



“Oh really? Let’s hear it.”



“Vos lèvres sont mon béatitude.”



“I don’t know what béatitude means.”



“Really, Miss I’m So Fluent in French?”



“I’ll figure it out.”



He smiles half a smile. “Looking forward to knowing how you feel about it. I also got on the committee.”



“Oh, wow, that was fast.”



“Well, if it means I get to spend time with you without your boyfriend around, it can’t be all bad. I don’t suppose you missed the kiss and he died?”



“No such luck.”



I repeat what he said in my brain. Translating it. “So your lips are my . . . what?”



“Not telling.”



I raise my hand.



Miss Praline says, “Yes, Keatyn?”



“What does béatitude mean?”



“We can discuss that after class. We need to focus on today’s lesson. We have a lot to cover.”



I turn around quick and say to Aiden, “Aiden? Is it a bad word?”