Kiss Me

He left Whitney’s stupid weekend to be with me. He wants to give me the key to his heart. He must like me. But nagging in the back of my mind is his voice from that night at the cave, telling Dallas and me his goal was to take Whitney to Homecoming. And now that she and Jake are broken up, there’s nothing to stop him.



I forget to worry when I see all the shoes.



And boots.



All lined up by designer.



It’s like paradise. Or mecca. Or whatever.



All I have to say is it’s amazing how many pairs of shoes and boots you can try on and buy in a measly sixty minutes.



I’m laden down with packages when gorgeous Dawson comes strolling back in, bag swinging in his hand.



Literally every shoe shopper’s head turns when he walks by. He is that good looking. Even the old ladies can’t help but stare.



It makes me feel very lucky.



He walks up to me and kisses my cheek. “You leave any shoes for anyone else?” he says, eyeing all my shopping bags.



“There’s not that many pairs, I swear. Boots just take up a lot of room. What did you buy?” I ask curiously.



“You’ll see later.”



As we’re getting in a cab, he says, “Hey, do you think it would be okay if we meet my parents for brunch tomorrow? Riley told them I was in town and now they want to meet you.”



“That’d be cool.”



“So, back to the loft?” he says with a wink.



Back at the loft, I finally get to look around and find that my pantry and fridge have been stocked with some basics, including wine, champagne, water, sodas, caviar, hard cheeses, smoked salmon, and some frozen dinners.



While I put my purchases in my closet and change into the new robe I bought, Dawson pops a bottle of champagne. We decided in the taxi that we’d just order in some food. At school we are constantly around people. We’re looking forward to spending some time completely alone.



He sets the glasses and bottle down, grabs my robe belt, and unties it. “Much better,” he says, looking down at me, basically naked again. “I think we should just be naked until we have to go back to school.”



“It’s going to be hard to have brunch with your parents if I’m naked.”



He smiles and pours us each a drink, then puts his glass up in the air. “Here’s to my beautiful naked girl.”



“I’m not drinking to my nakedness.”



He runs his hand down my stomach. “Oh, but you should.”



“Dawson! Stop that! We need to order food. I’m starving.”



“Me too, but it’s not my fault you’re so damn sexy, and you make me want you. All the time.”



I turn my back on him, let the robe slide off my shoulders, and walk naked into the bedroom.



He follows me like a dog after a bone. “Oh, you’re in trouble now.”



After dinner, Dawson says, “I bought dessert. That’s what’s in the bag.”



“Yum. What did you get?”



“Okay, so close your eyes.”



I close them.



I can hear him banging around in the kitchen and pretty soon he’s back in front of me.



“Okay, open.”



In front of me is a sinful looking triple layer chocolate cake and two forks.



It reminds me of the cake Brooklyn bought me for my birthday. The cake I made a wish on.



And ended up here.



Is fate trying to tell me something?



He puts a piece on a fork, holds it up to my mouth, and I decide to forget about fate.



“Oh my, it is so good. Seriously, almost orgasmic.”



Even though he threatened me with torture of some kind, I couldn’t sit at the dinner table and eat naked.



But after eating cake, I do suggest the hot tub. The water is warm and all the city lights are gorgeous in an urban way. Not the beach, but very pretty.



“This is really romantic,” he tells me.



“Yeah, I like it.”



And then he starts kissing me again.



And we all know where that leads.



Monday, September 26th



One. Perfect. Horny. Detail.



Ceramics



I elbow Jake. “I heard you and Whitney got back together.”



“And I heard you and Dawson got together.”



“We went shopping. Had dinner. If that’s what you mean.”



“Aww, come on, Monroe. Give us some of the dirty details. Dawson never tells us anything good.”



“Does that mean he tells you stuff that’s bad?”



“You know what I mean. You were all alone in what he described as the ultimate party loft. He said the place gave him a boner just walking in at the thought of the sin that could be accomplished there.”



“Hmmm, well, that explains things.”



“Explains what?”



“Why he was all hot and bothered the minute we walked in the door. Here I thought it was me.”



“Come on. One detail. One. Perfect. Horny. Detail.”



I roll my eyes at him. “If Dawson had his way, we would’ve been naked the whole time.”



“So you were naked all weekend?”



“Maybe.”



“If you were naked, that means you did it,” Bryce says.



“Not necessarily. Maybe I’m like a piece of art. You can look but you can’t touch.”



“Dawson is too fucking happy to have just looked,” Jake says.



“Maybe he’s into art,” I say with a raised eyebrow.



“Maybe he’s into you.”



“So tell me what Whitney said.”



“We didn’t actually get back together yet, but she did say she was sorry. Says she will apologize to you.”



“You know that she won’t.”



He nods. “She also says she was just looking out for him.”



“And you believe that?”



He scrunches up his nose and laughs. “No, but she seemed very eager to please me.”



Bryce pats him on the shoulder. “Dude. Makeup sex is the best.”



“So I might as well enjoy it. Make her pay a little,” Jake says.



“Jake, you crack me up. You’re using the one person who uses everyone else, and you’re getting away with it. You might be a better salesman than I thought.”



Bryce cracks up laughing and our teacher shushes him.



As we’re walking toward the student center for lunch, Jake and Bryce tell me they have to go do something for football real quick, but that Dawson wants me to wait at the table for him. That they’ll be there shortly.



“Um, no thanks. I don’t have a death wish.”



“Just sit there, Monroe, and don’t let her give you any shit.”



I sigh big. “Fine.”



I’m actually kind of excited to see Whitney. I hope she looks me up and down and gives me a dirty look. It will mean that I look good. Today is the first day that I haven’t worn one of Kym’s looks. I’m wearing a look I put together myself. As you would expect, it started with a new pair of shoes: deep red suede Louboutin T-strap platforms with leopard heels. I paired them with the plaid skort, a cream-colored Dolce & Gabbana ruffled-front silk blouse, red silk headband, black cardigan, and a fun Juicy Couture charm bracelet.



As I’m confidently walking to the student center, I get a photo texted to me from Garrett.



I pull it up and see another photo of Vanessa with Bam. His arm is wrapped around her and she’s smiling coyly. She looks really happy. And I can’t help but hope that she is. I look a little closer and notice that she’s cropped them out of a group of people. I can see numerous body parts behind and around them.



Me: Another photo. Why?



Garrett: Look closely. At the arm on Vanessa’s right.



I enlarge the photo.



And feel like I’m going to throw up.



Not only is a scrolly Abby tattoo clear, but Vincent has a new one.



Up on his wrist.



A chaos tattoo just like mine.



Me: Holy shit! He got a tattoo just like mine??!!!



Garrett: What? I just saw Abby.



Me: The Chinese symbol on his wrist is in almost the exact location as Brooklyn’s. It makes me feel sick. Do you think the security B has is sufficient or have they cut back too?



Garrett: I think while he’s out of the country he is fine. I already suggested more undercover security for when he is back in the states. Promise me you won’t go see him.



Me: I promise. I’m sorry, but that’s just fucked up.



Garrett: My thoughts exactly.



Just like a good little mutt.



Lunch



I walk in a daze to the student center. Aiden stands in front of me. “Are you okay?” he asks me.



“Huh?” I say distractedly. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine. My friend is safe. It’s all good,” I try to say convincingly. “Hey, I heard you were the one who told Riley about what Whitney did. That was really nice.”



He gives me a dazzling smile. “Well, I promised to be nice to you. Will you meet me in my room tonight for tutoring?”



“I appreciate it, Aiden. And, uh, sure.”



I walk through the lunch line then sit down exactly where Whitney told me not to. I say hey to Peyton, hoping she can be my buffer.



Whitney leans in front of Peyton and says in a fake sad voice, “I will admit, I was a little jealous that you were catching Dawson’s attention, but now I just feel sorry for you. I’m actually glad that Jake left because now I’m free to go to homecoming with Dawson. He and I totally bonded in the limo. You should have heard us talking about all the fun we had at the last three. And we’ll be King and Queen this year, so it’s only natural.”



I see Peyton narrow her eyes. I’ve heard her talking in dance about how she hopes to be Queen this year. She sits up a little straighter and raises her chin slightly in the air. It’s a move I totally recognize. She’s about to stand up to Whitney.



“I don’t know,” she says. “He seems pretty crazy about Keatyn. And the way he calls her Keatie is so adorable.”



Whitney narrows her eyes slightly, but it doesn’t stop her. She snarls at me. “He’s just using you. Surely you’re a smart enough girl to realize that. He’s not going to fall in love with you.”



I don’t get to answer. She turns away from me and speaks directly to her friends. “He freaked out about the photos of them on Facebook. Do you really think he’s going to ask her to Homecoming and be stuck with those pictures for the rest of his life? Plus, his parents will be here, and they adore me. No way he’s going to introduce her to Fred and Sharon.



I sit up a little straighter. “I got to meet his parents. After he and Jake ditched you, we went to New York.”



“Oh and stayed with his mom and dad. That must have been so romantic,” she sneers.



“Actually, we only met them for lunch on Sunday. We stayed at my loft.”



“With your parents?” she laughs. “Even better. If he weren’t so well-mannered, he’d have run the other way. He’s asking me, so don’t get your hopes up. And why are you sitting at my table?”



“Just to be clear. We stayed at my loft. Alone. And you’re right. It was quite romantic. And I’m sitting here because he asked me to.”



“Just like a good little mutt would.”



I’m about to unleash my fury when the dean stands up in front of us and taps on a microphone. “I have a few announcements,” he says.



The table I’m sitting at is the first table in the center of the room. It looks out over a large empty area that is used as a sort of stage. The cheerleaders sometimes do little skits here on game days. The dance team has performed during lunch. The swing choir did their thing just last week. I glance back and notice that Riley and Dallas aren’t at their usual table either. They must have had to do the football thing too.



The dean makes a few announcements that we’re not really listening too, but then I hear him say, “Keatyn Monroe, it’s come to my attention that you’ve been seen canoodling around campus with Dawson Johnson.”



Canoodling? What does that even mean?



I turn around in my seat and face him. Wondering why the hell he would say such a thing in public. If I’m in trouble for kissing Dawson on campus, wouldn’t he call me into his office?



He continues. “I know you’re new, but we have very high standards here.”



I hear Whitney break out in laughter. “This is priceless.”



The dean continues. “You’re about to see just how high.”



Then the room fills with the sound of stripper music. The dean drops the microphone and starts dancing to the music.



He doesn’t dance well.



I wonder what the hell is going on. Is this some kind of new girl hazing?



Is someone going to jump out and tell me I’ve been punked?



I glance at Peyton. She shakes her head at me. She has no idea either.



The dean sticks his index finger in his mouth then touches it to his ass. Like it’s sizzling hot.



My jaw drops to the ground and I half scream and cover my mouth with my hand, laughing. The side door opens and a bunch of boys dance in. Jake, Riley, Bryce, Dallas, Tyrese, Ace, and some other football players.



They line up next to the dean and do a naughty striptease dance, pulling their school blazers off and tossing them to the ground.



The students behind me start clapping and screaming.



I shimmy my shoulders to the music.



“For God’s sake,” Whitney whispers loudly over the music, “stop shaking. You look ridiculous. If you’re going to sit at this table at least try to have a little decorum.”



I flip her the bird over my shoulder. Then I stand up, pump my fist in the air, and go, “Woooh!”