Date Me (4 page)

“Oh, really?” I sass, putting my face right in front of his. “What kind of trouble?”

He grabs my butt cheeks firmly in each hand, squeezes them, and raises an eyebrow at me in challenge.

Oh, two can play this game.

I grab the back of his jeans.

Jeans I hardly ever see him wear. Jeans that sit low on his hips. The Cougars soccer T-shirt that he’s wearing just barely meets the thick band of his underwear.

I pull his shirt up over his head and toss it on the floor.

As he slides his hands down my sides, I take a moment to touch those hips. Touch the edge of the deep-V that is now visible.

I try not to think about what isn’t visible.

“You gonna do that at the dance?”

“Maybe.” I place my palms firmly on his pecs. Close my eyes and dance with him.

I run my hands over his chest, grind on his leg, move to the beat.

We dance well together.

I seem to know what he’s going to do before he does it.

Another one of my favorite songs comes on, so I push off his chest, jump up and down, then turn around and give him a booty shake. He spins me around and puts his knee back between my legs.

Which means he likes it there.

I grab his shoulders and run my hands across the muscles I have only admired.

He starts a very fast, exaggerated version of a waltz. He pulls me toward him. Spins me out, then spins me so that my back is now pulled tightly against his chest, our arms intertwining.

His hand glides across my bare stomach. I’m still in my dance clothes, and this bra top doesn’t seem as solid a wardrobe choice as it did earlier.

I need more insulation from his electrical touch.

I reach up and wrap my arm around his neck. He drops his head, placing his cheek next to mine. Even though the music is still fast, our bodies have slowed way down. His hands move slowly across my body, leaving little shocks of pleasure in their wake.

The music stops.

My ten-song playlist is over.

I turn around and face him.

Our faces are so close.

Our lips torturously closer.

His hand tangles in my hair, and he looks at me. His eyes are kissing my soul. Caressing me like a lover. They sparkle and shine with both fire and tenderness.

I realize I’ve been holding my breath.

I suck in a big breath of air and back away from him.

I need to get out of here.

Like, now.

“I think you're ready for the dance,” I say, as I grab my jacket off his chair.

He steals it from me and plops down on his futon.

“Dance for me,” he commands.

“Dance for you?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna see my Kiki stripper moves?” I laugh. “Cuz I really don’t have any.”

“No. I want to see you move. Show me your new routine. My sister’s been telling me about it.”

“I can't show you. It's totally top secret.”

“It’s either that or I pull you on this futon and make a cheater out of you.”

At first, I think he’s kidding. But the way he's leaning on the futon. The shadows playing across his face. His hooded eyes. That freaking mouth.

It stops me dead in my tracks.

I would be both pissed and hurt if Dawson danced with someone the way I just danced with Aiden.

I used to be the kind of girl that flirted with everyone and anyone. The old me would flirt with Aiden and lead him on. Vanessa would say it's smart. Smart to have a few guys in reserve that want you. That it keeps the guy you're with on his toes. And if he turns out to be a jerk, you just tee up the next guy.

That might be the kind of girl I was, but it’s not the kind of girl I want to be.

And why is he dancing with me like this when he’s asking someone else to Homecoming? It’s not fair to her either.

I should do the right thing.

“Look, Aiden. It's nice that we’re getting along better. But I like Dawson and I shouldn't have danced with you like that. I don't want to give you the wrong idea. So if I'm going to keep tutoring you, it'll have to be in the library. No more dances. No more almost kisses. No more talking on my neck.”

“But you and Dawson aren't exclusive. You still aren't wearing the key. So go on a date with me. Date us both.”

I look at him. Stare into those eyes.

But, I can’t.

I don’t want this.

“I'm sorry, Aiden, but I can’t date a guy like you. A guy that can’t decide if he loves me or hates me." He's getting ready to counter my argument, but I don't give him the chance. "And I know we had some crazy love at first sight thing, but we obviously would be a disaster together.”

He grins at me.

Just keeps grinning.

Then he taps his foot like he knows a secret and can hardly keep it inside him. His whole body is practically humming.

And his stupid grin keeps growing.

Damn that smile. I wish he would just put that thing away.

“Why are you grinning?”

“Love at first sight, huh?”

“No. It’s just an expression. That stuff doesn't happen in real life,” I say, even though I know sometimes it does.

He stands up close to me. His broad naked chest is so close to mine I can feel when he breathes. I hold my breath and move slightly backward, trying to increase the space between us.

But when I take a step back, he takes another step forward.

I take another step and back into his wall. There's nowhere else for me to go.

He puts his palms against the wall on each side of my head. I've never seen this look in his eyes before. It's hunger. And it looks so fucking sexy on him.

I let out a little breath. Almost a sigh. And close my eyes.

I can't let him look at me like that. I won’t.

His cheek grazes mine as he whispers in my ear. “I think being just your friend will be fun.”

I don't open my eyes. I just pant out, “How so?”

Where are those damn magic Spanx when you need them?

He places his open mouth on my cheek, slowly closing it into a pucker. He gently pulls his top lip off my cheek first, the bottom lip staying in place and then—bit by agonizing bit—receding.

It's then that I open my eyes.

And need to move.

“I have to go.”

“See ya, friend,” he says playfully.

But he doesn't move. He just raises one hand off the wall, giving me a small pathway to squeeze through.

He's such a jerk, I think, as I squeeze past him.

I get my stuff together and then take one last look at his room. The twinkle lights. The smell. The memories of our dances and his kisses.

Then I glance up at the stars that are still in place. Waiting to ask a girl to the dance.

When I close the door, I know I’m closing the door on us and not coming back.

I'm not coming back here.

Ever. Again.

And I feel surprisingly good.

Like a weight has lifted off me.

Like I just battled an addiction and won.

No, it’s better than that.

I just kicked fate’s ass. And won.

It’s freeing.

And it’s official.

My silly schoolgirl crush on the god is over.

I stop and sit on the stairs, feeling proud of myself and happy with my decision. I really like Dawson and I think it’s time I let him know it.

I don't text him. I call.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“In your dorm. Where are you?”

“Hang on.” I hear a bunch of noise. A chair sliding across the floor, rustling. “I'm in my bed. Almost naked.”

Just thinking about him almost naked makes me feel warm. “Should I start stripping my clothes off as I walk down the hall?”

“Damn, that sounds hot. Can I watch?”

“No one is in your hall right now,” I say as I round the corner. “Maybe you can.”

I wait by the stairs at the end of the hall for him to open his door.

When he does peek out, I see he’s shirtless, wearing a pair of athletic shorts, and probably nothing else.

I'm shaking. Half excited and half scared of what I think I’m about to do.

He winks at me, which sets me in motion. I take a step forward, pull my top off, and toss it down the hall at him. He grabs it and throws it into his room.

I say a quick prayer I don't get caught.

I walk by another door, pull my shorts off, and throw them at him.

Now I’m in nothing but a bra and a thong.

I take another step. I'm two doors away and breathing heavily.

What on earth possessed me to do this?

But the fire in Dawson's eyes, and the fact that his shorts are now saluting me, keep me going.

When I'm one door away, I stop and undo my bra.

He grabs me and pulls me into his bedroom.

He doesn't close the door, so I kick it shut behind us. When he hears it shut, he slams me back into it.

“Fuck, Keatie. I can't believe you just did that!”

I don’t get to reply. His mouth is on mine. His hands are in my hair, then down my back, then cupping my ass and pulling me up toward him. He leans me back against the wall and pushes his shorts down. I wrap my legs around him and kiss his neck. Hard. When he thrusts into me, I gasp and kiss him again. He's as out of control as I feel.

I'm trying to be quiet. But I'm having a hard time. I don’t want anyone walking in the hall to hear us. Dawson stops suddenly and says into my hair, “Not yet.”

Then he locks the door and carries me to his bed. We're still attached in every way when we fall onto the bed.

“Ohhh, god,” I say.

Apparently that was all he was waiting for. He's out of control again.

Finally, he says, “Holy shit.” And collapses on top of me.

He kisses my cheekbone, down by my ear, and then rolls off me. He lies spread out on the bed like he just finished a marathon.

“That was so fucking hot,” he says, kissing my fingers. Then he sits up and shakes his head. “No, that was hotter than hot.”

“It was molten lava hot,” I say, thinking about how he always makes me feel.

“You’re gonna kill me. Two and a half hours of football and then this.”

I smile at him and snuggle into his shoulder. I know I need to get dressed quickly. You never know when someone is going to knock on the door.

But instead, I lean across his chest and kiss the key necklace. “Do you still want me to have this?”

“You can have each and
every
part of me.”

I know what part he is specifically referring to and it's safe to say that it’s
not
his heart.

I roll off the bed, grab my shorts, and pull them on. He's watching me, so I throw him his shorts before he can get any ideas.

He slides on his shorts, sits on his desk chair, and pulls me onto his lap before I have a chance to find my bra.

“Does that mean you're ready for my heart? Are you in love with me?”

I run my hands through his gorgeous dark hair and sigh. “I’m not sure about the whole love thing yet, but I like you a lot, Dawson, and I don't want anyone else kissing you or doing anything else with you.”

“Keatie, are you asking me out?” he asks playfully, as he tickles my sides.

I giggle and squirm. “No!” I scream a little too loudly, which causes Jake to burst through the bathroom door.

“What’s wrong now?” He has a freaked out look on his face. “God, I thought Dawson died or something.”

I push my still naked chest into Dawson's, trying to cover myself up.

Jake says, “She said no, bro. No means no.”

They both laugh hysterically.

“What’s so funny?”

“Inside joke,” Dawson says.

Jake agrees. “Yeah, old joke from freshman year. Back when we were both virgins.”

I laugh. I love their friendship.

Jake pulls a red bra off his bathroom counter and swings it by the strap. No wonder I couldn't find it.

“This belong to you, Monroe?” he asks with a smirk.

Dawson laughs heartily and buries his head in my shoulder.

I want to say no, but it's a new bra and I want it back. I sheepishly nod.

“And what exactly was it doing in the hall?”

“I’ll let you two discuss that after I leave. I'm gonna go back to my dorm and change for dinner.”

I cover my boobs with one arm and grab the bra out of Jake's hand with the other. Then I grab one of Dawson's sweatshirts off the pile at the end of his bed and pull it over my head.

Dawson motions for Jake to leave and pulls me into a hug. He gently touches my cheek with the back of his hand and looks sweetly into my eyes. “I love you, Keatie." He adds quickly, “Don't say it back. I'm glad you're ready for the key. And I do want you to go out with me, but I want to ask properly.”

“Properly? Does that mean I get more naked chests?”

He kisses me. “Only my naked chest.
Whenever
you want.” He pulls me in tighter for a steamier kiss. “God, you're hot. I don't know how I got so fucking lucky. So, tomorrow, we'll go out for dinner. Just the two of us.”

“That sounds nice," I say.

He smacks my butt in response. “Hurry and go change. I'm starving.”

Promise not to freak.

10pm

After the game, the girls are hanging out in my room. Annie is practically bouncing off the walls.

"Can you believe Ace asked me?" She holds her phone to her chest and dances with it. “Can you believe he was sitting right next to me at the game and asked me on Facebook? It was so cool. I about died when I read the notification!”

“You also screamed out loud!” Maggie laughs.

“I know. I’m sure people just thought I was cheering about the game. But, whatever, I have a bigger concern now.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“I need a great dress. I don't really like the dress I picked out with my mom. It's black and conservative. All of a sudden, I want to be one of those girls."

Maggie stops texting whoever she is texting. "One of what girls?"

"You know, the kind of girl that gets a pink sparkly dress. The kind of girl that feels like a princess when she goes to the dance. Not the kind of girl to wear the black shapeless dress her mother bought. The kind of girl that's going to make out on the dance floor and not care about getting in trouble."