Love Me

“I like that you suck at French,” I tell him.



He slides his chair closer to mine and tries to read the entire menu.



And he doesn’t do half bad.



He figures out what he wants and attempts to order. And I maybe have to correct his pronunciation a few times, but he does well.



And it is the most adorable thing ever when he orders for both of us.



As Grandpa would say, His Momma done raised him right.



Damn, did she ever.



When the waiter takes our menus away, Aiden holds my hand and gazes into my eyes.



I’ve never felt so important or like what I had to say was so important. Like, you know how lots of times you’re talking to a guy and his eyes are looking everywhere but at you? Then he will glance back at your face, to verify that you are still talking; then he’ll look down and stare at your boobs—to make sure they are still intact, I think. And then his eyes sort of get that dazed look, and he continues to stare at your boobs, and you want to scream, Uh, hello, I’m speaking with my mouth, not my cleavage; you wanna just occasionally glance up?



Aiden’s not doing that. I have his full attention.



And he sure freaking has mine.



I also realize that his pull on me is not as shocking.



Maybe it’s like when you go stay up in the mountains and get acclimated to the altitude. I’m sort of being acclimated to his magnetism. I’m not quite as tongue-tied as I usually am around him, and I’m able to think more clearly.



He flashes his smile at me. “Why are you glad I suck at French?



“It makes you more human,” I stupidly say. Oh jeez, I’m an idiot. “I mean, uh, I wouldn’t have gotten to come here for dinner if you, um, didn’t, right?”



Clearly the air is still thin here at the top and is affecting my brain.



He reaches out and pushes my hair behind my ear, like he’s done it a million times. “I just noticed your earrings. Love the feathers and how they match your shoes.”



“Thanks. You look quite handsome tonight yourself. Whoever tailored your suit is quite talented. It fits you meticulously.”



“I wanted to look nice for you. So, I know you and Dawson are complicated, but what about Dallas? You were kissing him in the video.”



“Dallas and I are very not complicated. We’re friends. We smoke together sometimes and then we kiss. It’s no big deal.”



“You don’t think kissing is a big deal? I think our kisses are a pretty big deal.”



He runs his thumb across the palm of my hand, causing me to shiver.



The waiter interrupts our kissing conversation when he sets down our appetizers. A traditional French onion soup and sautéed escargot in a mushroom and red wine sauce.



“It’s too bad we don’t have a nice Bordeaux to go with this,” he says. “When we go to France, we’re drinking wine with every meal.”



“Have you ever been to France?”



“Once, to Paris. Do you like to travel? I love it.”



“Yeah, I do. I like to see the different cultures, experience the foods, see the sights, the countryside. Where all have you been?”



“Hmm. Let’s see. Basic stuff like Disney World. New York. Chicago. Then Venice. London. Hawaii. Berlin. Amelia Island. Cayman Islands, St. Kitts and St. Croix.”



“What did you think of St. Croix?”



“It’s like paradise. I’d love to go back, but my parents are on this kick where they won’t go back to the same place until they have been everywhere on their list. I’d love to go back just to relax, though.”



“Maybe I could arrange that.” I can’t help it. I’m smiling big.



“And how are you going to do that?”



“Good friends of ours have a place there. They don’t go very often, so I can use it whenever I want.”



“Really?”



I nod. “Okay, so, this is way out of left field . . .”



I stop myself.



Keatyn, what are you thinking? You’re not making plans with another boy only to be let down. You’ll go to St. Croix by yourself for Thanksgiving break. You’ll have fun relaxing. You’ll work on loving yourself.



“Um, never mind. So, this week rehearsals start getting serious. I can’t believe in a few weeks we’ll be performing in front of a live audience.”



He holds a spoonful of soup up to my mouth. I’m trying not to swoon over the fact that he’s feeding me.



“Don’t do that,” he says.



“Don’t do what?”



“What you just did. You were going to ask me something. Something that you were excited about, but then it’s like you got scared to ask me.”



I soak an escargot in wine sauce and eat it.



“This is all really good,” I say, avoiding the subject.



“Boots . . .”



“Can you read my mind?”



“No, but I sure wish I could. I’d love to know what you’re thinking. Tell me.”



I bob my head around like an idiot, trying to think up a lie. But, as usual when I’m with Aiden, all that’s in my head is cotton candy.



“I’m going there for Thanksgiving break. I was going to invite you. Like, the place is big. Peyton and your family could come too. But it was a silly idea. I’m sure you have plans and stuff.”



“We’ve always gone to my grandma’s for dinner, but she passed away last year, so I’m not sure what our plans are. Why were you hesitant to ask?”



“Um, well, it’s, like, a month away, and who knows if we’ll even still be friends then.”



He tilts his head and gives me those green eyes. Those eyes that see straight through me. “Boots, we’re gonna be a lot more than friends by then.”



Great. More. As in we’ll be sleeping together.



“I doubt it,” I say disappointedly.



“Yeah, I should probably take into account your track record.”



I can’t believe he just said that!



I look down at the tablecloth, suddenly feeling like I could cry.



He leans his forehead against mine. When I look up, he bats his dark brown eyelashes at me and smiles. “You know I’m just teasing you. Come here.”



I don’t move, so he puts his hand under my chin, pushing it up, straight to his waiting lips.



Once again, our kiss is so simple, so chaste, our lips touching, barely moving.



He kisses me for a few seconds then cruelly pulls his perfectly-formed lips away from me. “I’d really like to know what you’re thinking right now.”



“I’m thinking no one has ever kissed me the way you do,” I answer honestly. And surprisingly. Why the hell did I just say that?!



He stares at me for a few beats of my heart, then says, “So, we have this Greek weekend coming up. You do realize that since we’re on the Social Committee we have an obligation to be together the entire weekend to make sure everything goes as planned?”



I squint my eyes at him, trying to gauge if he’s serious. “I didn’t know that.”



“Oh, yes, I had it written into the bylaws. So Friday night after the game, you have to sit with me at the movie and sing-along. Lame.”



“It will be fun and you know it.”



“I think anything we do together will be fun.”



And I can’t help it. My mind goes to doing things with him. His tongue blazing a trail across my body. The gods only know the things that boy can do with his powerful mouth.



“Uh, yeah, probably,” I manage to sputter out.



“Then, Saturday, you’ll have to cheer me on while I compete—shirtless, apparently—in the Gods of Olympus competition.”



“I think the whole shirtless thing was pretty brilliant. I wonder who came up with that idea?”



“I think I’m going to freeze,” he says with a laugh. “And then there’ll be the feast. Where you will toast in my honor—”



“Only if you actually win.”



“I’m going to win.”



“Just because you danced your way to Mr. Eastbrooke doesn’t mean you can win at wrestling. Do you even know how to wrestle?” I want to add that maybe we should get naked and he could practice, but I don’t.



He puts his chin on his fist and licks his lips. Which means I get to see his tongue. He smirks and raises his eyebrows at me. “Maybe I’ll have to show you.”



I gulp, then nervously grab a curl and wrap it around my finger.



He grabs my hand out of my curl and brings it to his lips. “What? You don’t want to get naked and see which one of us is stronger?”



Um, honestly, I don’t know what I want. Part of me wants him to be like every other guy. Wants him to be a player.



But most of me wants him to be different.



I flash him a fake smile. “That sounds fun,” I say with zero enthusiasm.



What’s wrong with me? The hottie god wants to get naked with me and now I don’t want to?



And to top it all off, I suddenly feel like crying. I can feel little tears prickling my eyes.



Am I about to get my period or something? Why am I feeling so emotional?



Aiden tilts his head at me, looks into my soul, and somehow knows exactly what I’m thinking.



“Boots, I was just teasing you.”



My heart soars and drops all at the same time. “So you don’t want me naked?”



He slowly blinks his eyes. When he opens them, the hunger I saw briefly in his room when he had me pinned against his wall is back. And, once again, it is so. Fucking. Sexy.



“I definitely want you naked. Just not yet. We should take things slow. Be friends.”



I sit here. Not sure what to say to that. Part of me wants to fight him on it. Part of me thinks he’s right. Part of me just wants to see him naked.



“So, back to this weekend,” he says. “We will also be required to kiss and hold hands.”



“You’re trying to create a Greek atmosphere by kissing?”



“Oh, no. That will be because you want to.”



“I want to? No. You’ll want to.”



“What makes you think that?”



My response is interrupted by the waiter bring our entrée. It smells heavenly. He went a little cheesy romantic on the entrée, ordering chateaubriand for two. It’s served with a Béarnaise sauce, roasted fingerling potatoes, and asparagus. He cuts into it and feeds me the first rich morsel.



“Because I’m starting to think that you’re wooing me,” I tell him after I finish chewing.



“Me? Naw.” He grins. “What was your first clue?”



“Honestly, the way things have gone between us, so up and down. Like, one minute you pulled the she-loves-me petal off and the next the she-loves-me-not petal. But today, I was telling your sister about wooing and I realized all that you’ve done.”



“And?”



“I like it.”



We finish dinner, talk over dessert, then head out to his car. Again, he opens the door for me as I slide in.



He gets in the other side, puts the keys in the ignition, but doesn’t start the car.



He leans toward me and pushes my hair behind my ear. “I want this feather. Can I take it off?”



I’m sort of puzzled by this request, but I say, “Uh, sure.”



He glides the hook out of my ear then runs his thumb across it. “It’s a soft as it looks.” He runs the feather lightly down my arm.



“Mhmm,” I groan softly.



He pushes my hair from one side of my neck to the other, so my neck is fully exposed on the side closest to him. Then he runs the feather up the side of my neck.



Which may be the sexiest thing anyone has ever done to me.



My dress has a plunging neckline and when he runs the feather down into my cleavage, I decide it is indeed the sexiest thing anyone has ever done to me.



How does he come up with this shit?



His mother is Aphrodite, that’s how. Durrr.



I lean back into the headrest and close my eyes. Just feel the feather gliding across my skin, leaving me with goosebumps everywhere. He glides it up on my face and slowly across my eyelids.



I swear, I’m taking this feather home and having it bronzed.



He runs it across my lips.



Although having it dipped in gold would probably be more godlike.



I feel his chest touch mine as his lips replace the feather.



I run my fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck, and finally he kisses me more deeply.



Still no freaking tongue, but the kiss is deeper. His lips are pressed tighter to mine. His mouth more forceful. Who was it that said we needed to come up with another word besides amazing?



Oh, I forget.



His hands tangle in my hair then slide down my shoulders. My eyes are shut tightly, taking in every touch. He kisses gently down my neck and then I feel one single finger follow the outline of my dress.



On. My. Naked. Skin.



The finger starts on my collarbone, making a slow descent down the side of one boob, pausing briefly in my cleavage, and then back up the other side.



My back is pressed tightly against the seat, and even though my eyes are closed, I can’t stop smiling.



And making little contented sighs.



He grabs my chin and turns my head toward him.



I half open my eyes.



Did I mention that I am in love with this boy? One hundred percent completely, stupidly in love with him?



But I am an idiot who clearly has no clue what real love is.



But I don’t care right now.



I gaze into his eyes and then kiss him back.



Eventually, sadly, the kissing stops and he drives us back to school. He parks his car in the lot and holds my hand as we wander slowly toward my dorm.



I’m still in a bit of a daze. Must be an aftereffect of kissing a god.