Kiss Me (29 page)

“Yeah. Super sweet.”

“Did she slip you a love potion or something last night? You’re acting really weird.”

“Shut up. But maybe. We’ll see. She’s really pretty.”

“I’m just walking in the library. I’ll let you go dance in the rain or something.”

“No, wait. I called to ask you about today. What did you think? Do you think she likes me?”

“Yes, Riley, I do. She laughed and smiled when you were talking to her. When you wrote
Riley
in glue on her arm and covered it with glitter she practically swooned. And she wouldn’t have come to lunch with just us or kissed you on the cheek if she didn’t like you.”

“But what about the guy from home?”

“I heard they aren’t going out. So let her figure that out. If she likes you, he’ll be history.”

“But what if I’m history instead?”

“Speaking of history, you need to work on the script for our project tonight or I’m not letting you copy my worksheets any more.”

“Answer my question first.”

“I think she needs to see you shirtless. She won’t care about any other boy.”

Riley makes a satisfied noise. “I do have a good chest.”

“Yes, you do.”

“So how am I going to get her to see it?”

“I was sort of joking, Riley. Text her tonight. Be sweet. No player lines whatsoever. You understand me?”

“Yes, Mom.”

I find Aiden sitting in the back corner of the library. It seems to be becoming our corner. It’s behind some stacks and one of the more private tables in the library. He told me it was so we could quietly talk without bothering anyone.

I think he’s just trying to be sneaky. 

Like maybe there is some time warp, or a valley of the gods under a secret seal below the carpet. Maybe the table rests on it, and when he needs his aura recharged by the gods, he just sneaks down there. Or maybe he goes down there to see his mother, Aphrodite. Come to think of it, that’s probably why Aiden messes with me, he’s got that spitefulness of his mother, who thinks love is some cruel, manipulatable game.

Whatever. 

Okay. Tutor face on. 

“Hey, Boots,” he says to me. “How was your weekend?”

“It was good. Really good.”

“Good for you. Okay, so, I don’t get this at all.”

We go over the workbook pages, and I start to think maybe he does need to go get his aura recharged or something because he doesn’t make fun of me and Dawson. He doesn’t slam me in any way.

“What’s wrong with you?” I finally ask.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re being nice to me. It’s kinda scary.”

“I’m always nice to you.”

I look at him, eyebrows raised, calling bullshit.

“I just thought it would be nice if we could try and be friends, so I guess, yes, I’m trying to be nice.”

“That’s cool.”

“Well, it may be cool, but it sucks. I wanna hear your weekend with Dawson sucked. I want to be tutored in my room, so we can have some privacy. I also want you to stop flipping your ponytail around. Your hair smells like cotton candy and it reminds me of the stupid Ferris wheel.”

“Ha! There’s the Aiden I know and love.”

He cocks his head at me and grins. “You love me?”

“It’s just an expression. It doesn’t mean anything.” 

He leans a little closer toward me. Thank God there is a table separating us.

“Still, there are lots of expressions out there. You picked that one. You’re just trying to tell me you love me, it’s okay. I already know.”

My phone buzzes on the table and up pops a text.

Dawson:  I miss you

Aiden reads it. “Wow, if only it were that easy.”

“What?”

“I vote for letting him die.”

“Oh my gosh! You are so mean! I think my work here is done anyway.” I pat his shoulder and say the words he did to me after the dances. “See ya later, Aiden.”

My heart mated with his.

9:22pm

As I’m walking over to Dawson’s dorm for a quick good night kiss, I get a text from Aiden.

Hottie God:  I miss you

Me:  I’ll be right there, baby.

Me:  Bahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!

Hottie God:  You’ll be sad when I’m dead.

Me:  Doubtful, I’ll have more free time. Actually, I do have something I want to talk to you about, if you promise to be nice. Five minutes in your room?

Hottie God:  I’ll be there :)

I go kiss Dawson for about six minutes straight and try to keep him from attacking me for the millionth time this weekend. 

Not that I minded at all. This weekend was amazing. It really was. 

I say goodbye then run up to Aiden’s room and knock on the door. 

“
Entrer
,” he says, using the French word for enter. “So, I turned on the twinkle lights just for you. Just getting ready to start the iPod. I think you owe me something like ten dances.”

“If you’ll do something for me, I’ll give you your dances.”

He’s taken aback by my agreement. “Uh, sure, what?”

“Look, I’m being nice to you and spending an awful lot of time helping you with French. In return for that, I got on what was supposed to be the very cool Social Committee.”

“And it’s not?”

“No. They meet at freaking seven am. Whitney is on it and she’s mean. And your sister isn’t nice to me when Whitney is around. So you have to get on it and team up with me. Or at least run interference.”

“You should get your boyfriend to do that for you.”

“He’s not my boyfriend and you know it.”

“Whatever, you’re with him. Obviously.”

“Whatever. I want you.”

His eyes sparkle at me and a little grin plays on his lips. “I knew you'd come around.” 

“I don’t want you, want you. You seem to be one of the few people here that can hang out with them, be a part of their group, but yet, you’re not a part of it. How do you do that? How are you popular without being with them?”

“Because I don’t want it.” 

“I don’t want it either. So why does she hate me so much?”

“All you have to do is look at yourself in the mirror to answer that question.” 

“She hates the way I look?”

Aiden chuckles and pulls me onto the bed to sit with him. “I’m a guy. I’m not a threat to her. You’re pretty, Boots. Pretty, smart, and you have this, this, way about you. This casual friendliness that people are drawn to. And you seem to be very comfortable in the spotlight.” 

“Are you comfortable in the spotlight?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve heard you are a really good soccer player. Usually really good athletes have to comfortable in the spotlight. It sort of comes with the job.”

“I’m not a cocky jerk on the field, but I am a good goalie.”

“From what I’ve heard, good is an understatement.”

He smiles. He has the prettiest smile I have ever seen. Even his teeth are perfect. 

“I’d say I’m confident in my abilities.”

“Do you get nervous? Like, stage fright kind of thing? Ever choked in a big game?”

“Not since I was about ten. I played up an age group in the Fourteen and Under League. The guys were a lot bigger than me. I lost a game because I got distracted and missed the ball. I’ve never let it happen again.”

“You’ve never been scored on since?”

A smirk plays on his lips and his eyes twinkle. 

I roll my eyes. “I don’t mean
that
kind of scoring. I already heard about your man whore ways last year. I’m still talking about soccer.”

“I have been scored on a total of eleven times since then.”

“Eleven times in seven years. Those are pretty good stats. I’m impressed.”

“Good to know there’s at least one way I can impress you.”

“You can impress me by getting on Social Committee. And we were talking about how you are popular without being popular. You have everyone in your room all the time. I don’t get it.”

He hangs his head down a little. “Maybe I like to party.”

“You don't seem like you do.”

“Fine. I got roped into it.”

“Wait. You’re doing something for them that you didn’t want to do. Why?” 

“I do it for my sister. I'm trying to keep her out of trouble.”

I repeat the words he said to me in class one day. “And here I thought you were different.”

“Shut up,” he says, but he’s grinning at me.

I smile big and say in a singsong voice. “Aiden’s been drinking the Kool-Aid.”

He grabs my shoulders, which makes me feel like my body just turned to putty. “Fine. I'll get on the Social Committee.”

His hands are still touching me as he speaks. It’s hard for me to hear what he’s saying because he’s touching me. 

I finally say, “We need to be a united front. I know if you’re there, your sister won’t pick on me.”

“My sister likes you. Why would she pick on you?”

“She’s nice to me at dance and at soccer, but when Whitney’s around she's not.”

Aiden shakes his head. “I don’t understand her sometimes.”

“I do, actually. I used to be her.”

“What?” 

“Yep. At my old school. I don’t ever want to be popular again.”

“But you’re dating Dawson.”

“I’m
hanging out
with Dawson because he’s sweet. Not because he’s popular.”

Aiden leans back on his pillow and stares up at the twinkling lights. I lean back and look up at them too. 

“So did you date the popular guy at your last school too?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So your Keats guy. He was the most popular?”

I start laughing so hard I swallow my spit the wrong way and have a choking fit. Aiden hands me the Gatorade he’s been drinking. “No. He wasn’t socially acceptable, according to my friend, who I swear is a Whitney clone.” I stop and snap my fingers. “That’s it.”

“What’s it?” 

“Whitney. What does she have on your sister?”

“What do you mean?”

“The reason I never crossed my Whitney is because she knew something embarrassing about me and threatened to tell everyone. And it sorta would have ruined my reputation.”

He rolls over on his side and gives me a crooked smile. “What’d she have on you?”

“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?