Kiss Me (36 page)

I wanted to drag Dawson back to his room for some fun. 

But he told me no. That I was drunk. 

And then walked me home.

I hit snooze three more times, then get up so I’m not late. And, while I’m thanking God that there is no dress code for Saturday detentions, I throw my hair in a ponytail, put on a ball cap, shorts, sweatshirt, and Uggs. I even stop to grab a latte, whole grain muffin, and some fruit. 

I’m eating it in the detention room at 6:55 and feeling very proud of myself for being early to detention.

Which, now that I think about it, is extremely uncool. 

To my surprise, there are four other kids in Saturday detention, and when the teacher walks out to get more coffee, I ask what everyone did to get here.

(I will point out that I didn't consider the fact that at this moment I am living a scene from
The Breakfast Club
.) 

There is Seth,
But you can call me Shark
. He got caught taking bets on the elections.

 "Oh, what were my odds?” 

“You were a long shot to lose, sweets. Legs like that, no way you'd lose.” 

Then there is Amanda. Amanda sorta looks like a bad girl: jet black hair in kind of a Joan Jett shaggy cut. I can't decide if she's trying to look rockerish or slightly goth. She’s funny as shit, though, and I instantly like her smart-ass wisecracks. 

Obviously, it was this talent that led her to detention. Turns out she fancies herself as an actress and is excited for drama tryouts, which are coming up in a few weeks. 

“You should totally try out,” she tells me. “We’re doing this comedy. It’s called
The Bachelor Prince
. It’s a reality show spoof, where two princes are in a race to see which one can find true love first. The one that wins gets to be King. There’s a part you would be so perfect for. There’s this sweet girl from Texas that really falls in love with the good prince, but then the bad prince tries to keep them apart. It’s not the lead, but it has a big impact on the show. Have you ever thought about acting?” Then she's a smart-ass to herself. “I mean, you do everything else.” 

I laugh to myself. “Yeah, I have. I’m in Drama class.”

“You should totally try out,” she says.

Then there’s a guy from the cross country team, who’s name I miss, that hazed a freshman. He tied his shoes together under the bleachers. Funny, if you ask me, and not that haze-worthy, but the kid fell down and knocked out a front tooth, so everyone was all freaked out about it.

Then there is an overachieving junior named Marie, who is in my French class. She did actually fall asleep and miss curfew. She was in the library and, apparently, the librarian did not see her because she was working on a laminating project for something. For an hour. She is also mortified that she would ever find herself in detention as she has, “Never had one in my
entire
life!" 

“What about you?” she asks me.

“Wait,” Shark says. “Let's guess and make some odds.” 

Everyone seems to think this sounds fun.

And I'm curious to know what these people, who don’t me, think I would get into trouble for.

After a lengthy discussion, these are the odds:

3:1   Was caught in her boyfriend’s dorm room after curfew.

“He is so dreamy.”

6:1   Talked back to a teacher.

2:1   Was caught in another boy’s dorm room, 

“I heard you were in some other boy’s room studying.”

4:1   Got caught smoking weed.

“Oh, I would think those odds would be lower. Doesn’t everyone from California do that?” 

“No, silly, she would have gotten kicked out for that.”

“No, you don’t get kicked out. Just a short suspension.”

8:1  Got lost trying to find her way back to her dorm.

“I mean she is blonde and on the dance team.” 

“Hey, I'm also in the Student Council, the literary club, the French club and on the Social Committee.”

“How did you get on the Social Committee?”

“My teacher asked me to tutor someone.”

“Who?” the girl from my class asks.

“Aiden. Do you know him?”

“Ohmigawd!
Everyone
knows Aiden,” Amanda squeals. “He's as hot as they come.” 

“So who's hotter: Aiden or Dawson?” Shark asks Amanda.

“Oh, tough choice.”

Shark turns to me and says, “I have new odds. Three to one that you’re going to break up with Dawson and end up with Aiden.”

“You’re way off on those. First off, Dawson and I aren’t going out. We’re just sort of dating. Kind of.” 

Shark waves his hand at me. “Whatever you call it. You’re always together. Aiden’s cool though. He and I have a few classes together, and he's very humble. Not the stuck up jock you'd expect. Just a couple days ago, we were talking about girls. I mentioned how last year he had quite a few girlfriends. This year he hasn’t had any. He says he's waiting for the
dream girl.
”

“What do you mean, the dream girl?”

“I don’t know, apparently someone he really likes but she doesn't like him back.”

“No way. That's bullshit,” Amanda says. “How could a girl
not
like him back. I'd pay a lot just to sit and stare at those green eyes. And have you ever seen him playing soccer with no shirt on? Seriously, girls go crazy.” 

“So, who are the hottest guys here?” I ask.

“Top five?” Amanda says.

“Yeah.”

“Well, Dawson, Aiden, Jake, Dawson’s not-so-little brother—what’s his name?”

“Riley.” 

“Yes, he should be on there. And I’d say Logan. Oh, and maybe Blake.”

The teacher comes back in the room and we all stop talking. He looks and me and Shark and says, “Your time is up. You can go now.”

We walk out together and see Aiden sitting on a bench just outside the building.

“What are you doing up here?” I ask him.

“Oh, just thought I'd say hey.” 

Shark says, “Hey, man,” to Aiden and as he’s walking away, he says to me, “Odds just went up.” 

“You look cute,” Aiden says, swatting my ball cap. “I’ve never seen you in a hat before.”

“I look gross.” 

“You always look beautiful to me,” he says in his dreamy way. “Last night on the bus was fun.”

“I slept on your shoulder the entire way. How was that fun?”

“And you had your hand on my waist the entire way.”

“Didn't you sleep?”

“No. I just sat there and soaked it in.” 

“What does that mean?”

“Look, I think it’s pretty obvious that I like you.” 

“Um, sometimes it seems like you do, but then other times it doesn't. At all.”

“When doesn't it?”

“When you get mad at me and won't talk to me. When you say mean things to me. Or about me.” 

“I haven't done that for a while.” 

My phone buzzes in my hand.

B:  Please call me today. I love you. I can't stand having you mad at me. And tell your bf he's an asshole.

Aiden looks at my phone. “I think I might like this guy.”

“Why's that?”

“The last part.” He grins.

“Dawson’s not an asshole. Why do you think that?” 

“Maybe because he has you.” He points to my phone. “So, are you going to forgive him and dump Dawson?”

I think maybe I can talk to Aiden about this. He knows about the Keats quotes. Maybe he can give me some advice. “He quoted me Keats again the other night. Makes it hard to resist—”

Aiden’s gorgeous green eyes immediately darken. He looks pissed off and interrupts me. “Yeah, well, hey, I gotta go.” 

Then he marches off.

Okay, WTF?!

First, he's telling me he likes me then he gets all pissed off again?

I want to yell back at him that I didn't do the four-leaf clover and the dances because I wanted to dance with him! That it was just a sacrifice I made.

That I was paying it forward!

Isn't that supposed to get you bonus points, karma-wise?

Oh, I hate him sometimes. 

Because me + being nice to him = bad. 

I’m the one who got the stupid detention because of him. And now he’s mad at me!?

And he never even let me finish my stupid sentence! I was going to say it makes it hard to resist
because
he’s been my friend for so long. I didn’t mean that I would ever get back together with him. We are never, ever getting back together. No freaking way. Ahhhhhhhh! I want to scream out loud.

What the hell. I’m already pissed off. I might was well call Brooklyn. 

He answers.

“Got your text,” I say.

“I was up looking at the dawn, thinking how much I miss you,” he says.

And, even though he was a total asshole, I sigh because I know I’m about to forgive him.

“I miss the dawn. I miss the beach. I miss the way things used to be.” 

“Damn, Keats, that was almost poetic.” 

“Yeah, well, whatever.”

“Are you going to forgive me?” 

“I might after I have someone kick your ass or something.”

“You don’t need to do that. Trust me, I’ve been beating myself up over it. My chi is way out of whack. My surfing sucks. My life is out of balance.”

Or not.

You’ve got to be freaking kidding me!

“Wait. You want me to forgive you so you can get your groove back?”

“Well, kinda.”

“So, you don’t feel at all bad about what you did?”

“Uh . . .”

“That’s why I won’t forgive you. It’s always
all
about you!”

I hang up, mad. 

Oh, I hate boys.

Okay, not all boys, just two in particular. And then I think of the one boy that has been nothing but sweet to me. So I call him.

He answers in a hoarse, sleepy, you-just-woke-me-up voice. 

“You sound like you’re still in bed.”

“I am. You done with detention?”

“Yes. How would you like some breakfast in bed?”

“I just want you in my bed, but food would be nice too.”

On the way to his room, I stop and grab three glazed donuts, a caramel latte for him, and a bottle of water for me.

When I open his door, I grin. 

He looks so adorable when he’s just waking up. His dark hair is messy, and he hasn’t shaved since yesterday morning, so he’s got a five o’clock shadow. It looks so sexy on him. His hair is sorta smooshed up on one side, like you can tell exactly how he was lying when he was sleeping. Plus, he’s shirtless.

“Mhmmm, come here,” he says, pulling back his covers, and then covering us back up. 

I snuggle up to his chest and think about going back to sleep, but I kiss his neck instead. Just soft little lazy kisses.

Well, they start out that way. 

Then I kiss his neck with a little more intention. Up by his ear, around his earlobe, back down the side of his neck, then across his check, and to his waiting mouth. 

The minute our lips meet, a wave of desire runs through my body. 

Or maybe it’s because he’s got his hand between my legs now. I’m not sure. It’s sorta hard to focus on thoughts just now, because he’s quickly pulling off our clothes. 

“You make me feel like a superhero, Keatie.”

“A superhero?” How?”

“In bed. I feel like I could fly, kick the Hulk’s ass, bust Superman’s chops, all before lunch.”

“Well, in bed, you are my superhero.” I giggle. “You make me feel sexy. It’s kinda addictive.”

“You’re addictive. I can’t get enough of you.” 

Pretending it was your head.

2pm.

We crash for a while, me finally getting some much-needed sleep, then we get up and go work out. Dawson is lifting weights, while I rotate through a little exercise circuit, trying to concentrate and not just sit and drool watching his muscles flex. I will admit, I’m not working out all that hard. I’m mostly drooling.

Plus, I feel lazy today. 

I go over to the punching bag, where I have a good view of Dawson’s muscles, and punch the bag a little. I slowly do some of the different kicks and moves Tommy’s trainer used to make us do. 

Just as Dawson lies on a exercise ball and starts doing crunches, Aiden steps in front of me, blocking my drool-worthy view.

“I was punching that earlier. Pretending it was your head,” he says, pointing to the bag.

“You need to grow up. Figure out what you want before you go telling girls you like them, then two seconds later deciding you don’t and walking away. It’s no wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.” I maybe, kinda snarl a little. 

Not because I care. But he is blocking my view.

“I could get a girlfriend like
that
,” he says, snapping his fingers.

“Why don’t you then?”

He shrugs and lowers his voice. “I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, well, good luck with that.”

Dawson walks up to me, sweaty, but grinning. He sees Aiden, of course, and I think pumping iron maybe got his testosterone flowing because all of a sudden he is very into me. 

He ignores Aiden and smacks my butt. “Come on, baby. Time to get you back in bed.”

One: he never calls me baby.

Two: he never so blatantly lets people know we’ve been in bed.

Three: he never so blatantly suggests we are going to go do things in bed. 

Four: like, not even in front of his friends.

Five: like, his friends assume things, but they don’t know, because he hasn’t told them.

Six: and to say it to Aiden, of all people, who’s already punching my head, theoretically. If I’m not careful, he may make a voodoo doll of me, and I will be going around doing normal stuff and, like, stop in pain, or start doing weird kicks in dance. He could make my life miserable if the voodoo doll worked.

And, although on the inside, I am mortified by all this, apparently on the surface, I find his smack and “baby” adorable. 

I grab his waist and giggle. “Already? Again?” And drag him away from the god.

And even though mere hours ago I was chewing Brooklyn out about his inner chi being screwed up, I realize I am heading on the same downward spiral when I turn around and glance back at Aiden.