Kiss Me

I don’t know if I will win or not. But I did good, and I’m proud of myself. And I think my lucky charm will be proud of me too.



Did you see those boots of hers?



French



Somehow, Aiden ends up walking me from lunch to French class.



“Your speech was really great,” he says.



“I didn’t look at what was in my hand until I got up there and was ready to start speaking.”



“You like it?”



“I did. It gave me an extra boost of confidence. I felt lucky. But why did you?”



“Well, I might have a little crush on my tutor, but don’t tell her. It will go to her head. And she already thinks she’s the shit. Did you see those boots of hers?”



I laugh. “Very funny. Do you like my boots?”



He looks at me with his dreamy eyes. “I love your boots. You in boots is my favorite. Reminds me of the first day we met.”



“My grandpa had them made for me to match my uniform. Told me they are to remind me to raise some hell and kick some ass.” I laugh at that.



“I’d like to meet him someday. He sounds like a good man,” Aiden says very sincerely.



As I sit down in class, I’m thinking that Grandpa would probably think Aiden is a good man too.



We take a break at the end of class to talk in French. Annie isn’t speaking French, but is excitedly talking about the speeches: who she thinks did well, how I rocked, and “Where did you ever find those boots?”



Aiden answers her. “Her grandpa had them made for her.”



And Annie gives me a look. A look that says, Uh, what’s going on here? Why is he answering for you and, more importantly, why does he know this and I, your best friend, do not?



A bunch of us girls are in Katie’s and my room getting ready to go to the JV game. We’re all giggling and laughing.



I’m all ready. I left my boots, tank, and shirt on, but changed into little jean shorts. And, I will admit, I’m sorta sitting here thinking about Aiden. Tutoring him has been good for me. I’m getting to know him and he’s been nicer recently. Not behaving like the smooth player that he was always trying to be. We haven’t had a fight in almost a week.



He mentioned in class that the team they’re playing tonight is the best in our conference, and that he hopes he and the team play really well.



I get an idea, so I dig down to the bottom of my desk drawer. Mom forced me to bring high quality writing paper, so I could write a decent thank you if needed.



I grab a piece of the thick creamy paper and a green marker. I fold the paper in half and then write inside.



And then I draw a big, green four-leaf clover on the front and outline it with black marker.



I tell the girls, “Hey, I gotta run to the dance room and grab my, uh, socks. I’ll be right back.”



Then I run out the door and text Aiden.



Me: Where are you?



Hottie God: Locker room. Where do you want me to be?



Me: Somewhere where I can give you something.



Hottie God: Walking out of the field house now. Meet me.



Me: Okay :)



I sprint—well, jog—as fast as I can in my boots and see him standing outside the field house. He’s got on his football pads and jersey, but is still wearing his athletic shorts.



God, he is just beautiful.



Scratch what I said before about him being a normal boy. He is so not.



“Boots are pretty cute with shorts too,” he grins, looking at my shorts.



“Thanks. Uh, well, I know you seemed a little nervous about the game tonight and um, I just . . .”



When the hell did I get so tongue-tied?



“Just what?”



“Well, here.” I hold the little note out in front of me.



“What’s this?”



“I don’t know. It’s a note. Some luck maybe. Just look at it, I don’t know, sometime before the game, maybe.”



“Not now?”



“Um, up you.”



“You know, Boots, you’re acting very weird.”



“I am very weird.”



He laughs. “True. Okay, so I have to get back in there.” He holds up the note. “Thanks, I think.”



I walk back to my dorm, wondering what the hell I just did.



Then I tell myself that I don’t really want to dance with him again or anything.



I’m a dancer.



I’m one of the people chosen to help spread school spirit and support our athletes.



I was just wishing him luck, motivating him, so that our team could win and we could be proud.



Rah, rah, sis, boom, bah, and all that.



That’s just the kind of selfless girl I am.



What the heck is on the football?



7:18pm



I’m sitting in the stands with a big group of people. My glass four-leaf clover is tucked into the pocket of my shorts.



Dawson is being his sweet, snuggly self and teasing me about my boots in front of everyone, but then he starts whispering in my ear about how he would like to see me in just my boots later on tonight.



I’m not sure if I could do that.



Two reasons why I could not float through my head simultaneously.



One is that Grandpa would roll over in his grave, if he were dead, if he saw me doing those things in the boots he had made for me.



The second reason is that boots are kinda Aiden’s and my thing. Like, not that we have a thing at all. But the way he calls me Boots and said he wanted to meet my grandpa . . . I just don’t think I could allow my boots to be a part of what Dawson has in mind.



I may have to put a blindfold on them or put them in the corner or something.



Jake and Whitney are sitting a couple rows below us, and I notice Dawson doesn’t seem to be affected by this at all. Which makes me very thankful. Bryce says Hey to them, then walks up and sits down behind me and Dawson.



“So, did you take any of our advice?” he asks me.



“About my speech?”



“Uh, no, about making Dawson worship you.”



This gets Dawson’s attention.



He says teasingly, “What have you two been up to in ceramics?”



Bryce laughs. “Well, so far I’ve made a lopsided cup and an animal that resembles a pig but was supposed to be a pony.”



“They may have suggested the library,” I tell Dawson.



His eyes get big and he gets a big old grin on his face. He turns to Bryce and puts his fist in front of him. They do a fist bump and he says, “You can make suggestions like that any time, man. Any time.”



Now Bryce’s eyes get big. “You mean you took our advice! Like, the library idea?”



I roll my eyes. “Maybe.”



“Can I get a clone of you? Seriously?”



I start to say something, but Bryce interrupts me. “What the heck is on the football?”



In front of him, Annie says, “Looks like a four-leaf clover to me.”



Dawson says, “That’s for Notre Dame, like the fighting Irish, right? Why would they put that on our footballs? Shouldn’t it be a cougar paw?”



I look out and see that Riley is getting ready to toss a pass to Aiden. And on the football is a marker-drawn, green four-leaf clover outlined in black.



And I think I just passed out.



Toying with my force field.



9:45pm



Dawson has a paper due, so I’m getting ready to leave after giving him just a few kisses. Well, okay, we were making out a bit, and his hands were everywhere under my shirt. But I drew the line when he was trying to undo my shorts.



“We both have homework. You told me to promise to make you do it.”



“Oh, I wanna do it, alright.”



“Dawson! Behave!”



“Sorry, okay. I’ll text you before I go to sleep.”



“K, bye.”



As I round the corner to go down the hall, I almost run into Aiden.



Who is looking more god-like than ever in a plain white T-shirt that clings to his perfectly formed chest.



He grabs my hand and nods his head toward the stairs.



I follow him up to his room.



He shuts his door, locks it, and dazzles me with a smile. “So, only had twelve tonight. But we won!”



“Yeah, you all played great. Riley’s really stepping up.”



“That and we had a secret weapon.”



“What’s that?”



“Motivation.”



“I saw the clovers on the footballs. That your doing?”



“Yeah. This girl wished me luck and offered me dances. So I gave a little motivational speech before the game. Showed everyone that I drew them on the game balls, prayed Coach wouldn’t kill me, and it was a big hit. We went out there pretty pumped up.”



“It was awesome, really.”



“I didn’t have a chance to pick twelve new songs. Okay if we do some of the old ones?”



“Are we dancing tonight?”



“Heck yeah.”



He hits play on his iPod and pulls me in close. We sway to the music and he gets so close to me. Like before. It’s like our faces have a force field around only them.



And he is toying with my force field.



Like, he’s firing shots, trying to find its weakness.



And what’s up with that?



Because I clearly told Kirk, or Scotty, or whoever is in charge of that stuff on the starship, Shields down!



But he will not kiss me. He is totally teasing me, totally playing with me, and it pisses me off, and makes me weak at the knees at the same time.



Remember how I said it feels like time stands still when I kiss him? It feels that way when I dance with him too. Like we are the only two people on this green earth, and we’re okay with that. And, before I realize it, we’ve gone through not just twelve songs, but all twenty-nine on his original playlist. Rap music blares on, and I look at the clock.



Holy shit!



Shit!



“Aiden! I’m thirty-six minutes late!”



I go tearing out of his room, down the stairs, and sprint to my dorm.



I check in and receive a very stern warning and over one hundred minutes of detention.



Worth. Every. Second.



I mean, our team won, right?



I’m still downstairs, dealing with being late. There’s paperwork that has to be filled out for my detention. Now that she’s done chewing me out and focusing on that, I check my phone.



I have texts. Lots of texts.



Dawson: Almost done with my paper. Night, Keatie