by Jillian Dodd
“Is that why you cried?”
“No. I cried cuz Dawson kissed me, and it was gross. And my lips felt amazing from kissing you, and then they felt gross and it made me sad.”
“I fixed that, though. I kissed you again.”
“Yeah, you did. My lips are feeling a little gross right now.”
Oh, that sounded pathetic.
“Oh really?” he mutters, and kisses me more.
But no matter how much he kisses me, no matter how long he kisses me, it’s like he gave me a love potion, and I can’t get enough.
I will never be able to kiss him enough.
Song 18.
“I’m tired of dancing.” he says, and pulls me down on the futon with him. I look over and see the keg of beer is still in his room.
“You always keep a keg in your room?”
“We have to move it all around, so we don’t get caught. But, yeah, usually. Our dorm advisor thinks I’m a good boy, so he never checks my room. Do you want a beer?”
“Actually, yeah. That sounds good.”
He gets up and pours us each a beer.
“So why did your face go completely white when I said that quote?”
I try to think of a good story, but I can’t come up with anything, so I tell him the truth.
“The guy I dated, hung out with—my best friend calls me Keats. He also loves old literature and quoted me Keats a lot. We had some pretty intense times.”
“Are you in love with him?”
“I love him. We’ve been best friends for a couple years, but I don’t know if it’s, like, true love. Like, if you even believe in that. Like, soul mates and stuff.”
“I believe in that stuff. I told you that. I also told you that’s why I didn’t stay with the girls I dated for very long. I kept thinking it could be something, but then I just couldn’t make it be something, so we broke up. I’ve never done anything like this for a girl before. I’ve never quoted her poetry. You’re different, Boots.”
There we go, the You Are Different line. Player. Player. Player.
I giggle. “In other words, I’m weird?”
“Pretty much,” he laughs, and then pulls me back in for more kissing.
I’m in heaven. Dreamland. Fantasyland. The Underworld. Mt. . . . uh, what is the mount where the Greek gods hung out? I can't remember, but I think I’m there too.
We kiss for days.
At least, it feels like it.
But even though we’ve moved on to almost making out from just plain amazing kisses, he’s still being very, very good. His hands are in my hair, down my back a little, but that’s it.
While his mouth is skillful, his hands and tongue are behaving prudishly.
And all the guys told me Aiden has great hands.
Maybe he’s saving them for soccer?
All of a sudden, the iPod blasts out a loud, booming rap song.
“Shit, I think my twenty-nine songs are over.” He runs over and turns down the music and looks at the time. “So, it’s almost curfew. I should probably walk you home.”
We walk hand in hand. “You having a party again tonight?”
“Probably. But I’m tired. I might just crash in someone else’s room.”
“Well, they’ll like the lights.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking the lights might have to stay.”
“Tonight was amazing, really.”
“So, the intense times you had with that guy. Does that mean you slept with him?”
“Um, well, yeah. He was kinda my boyfriend. My first love, really.”
“So he’s special?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
He frowns and says, “Well, here we are.”
We’re standing outside my dorm.
He pats me on the back of my shoulder and says, “See ya later, Boots.”
What’s up with that?
A pat on the back?
I’m not sure what happened between kissing in his room and saying goodbye, but I’m pretty sure he’s mad at me.
Seriously, a pat on the back?
I get in my dorm and check my phone.
I have a text from Riley. One from Tyrese with the party info. One from Dallas asking if I’ll take him to the party.
I planned to lie in bed tonight and dream about Aiden’s kisses, but now I’m too confused by his actions. I need a mellow boy, one who will chill with me and not make my head hurt. So I text my mellow boy back.
Me: I did get invited to the party, but I’d rather chill. Meet me at the Cave at 1?
Dallas: Will do. And will bring party favors ;)
Me: I was hoping you would :) Just don’t bring Riley, okay?
Dallas: Why? You two were getting down on the dance floor. Although after you left he was getting down with pretty much everyone. Some chick named Audrey, in particular.
Me: I just want to relax. Who did you dance with?
Dallas: Just a bunch of people. No one special. So what happened with Aiden?
Me: We danced, kissed, sorta made out a little but, then, it all went to shit :( I’ll tell you about it when I see you.
It wasn’t awful.
1am
I get to the cave. I figured other people would be here, but I find Dawson sitting on a stump alone, looking sad. He looks up at me and, I swear, I might have seen tears in his eyes.
I feel bad for him because I know it too. Love sucks.
“Tough day, huh?” I say quietly.
He runs his hand back through his hair and then rubs his hands down his face. “Yeah. Shitty day. Are there a bunch of people coming here tonight?”
“I don’t think so. Only me and Dallas that I know of.”
“I can’t handle being friends with her.”
“With Whitney?”
“Yeah. I was watching her dance with Jake tonight. I wanted to alternately kill him, kill her, and kill myself.”
“Peyton asked me about our kiss.”
“She was gathering information for Whitney. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know. And it’s okay. I told her you were really drunk and that I stopped it. I mean everyone saw that I stopped it. Although I didn’t tell her how horrible it was. Maybe I should have?”
“You’re not exactly cheering me up here.”
“I let her know it meant nothing. That’s all that really matters. And Peyton told me what happened with you and Whitney. I’m sorry. It would suck to get dumped like that, but at least it had nothing to do with you.”
“What do you mean it had nothing to do with me?”
“It was a status thing. Peyton got a college boyfriend. Whitney wanted one too.”
“That’s why she dumped me?”
“Yes.”
“We dated for almost three years. We were in love.”
Could he really not know how manipulative she is? If he doesn’t, then she’s an even better Alpha than I thought. I should be more careful.
“You were like last year’s Prada bag. She wanted the new bag.”
“I don’t get it.”
Hmmm, let’s use terms he can understand. “Let’s put it this way. You were a Porsche Carrera. Whitney loved driving you. You looked sexy. But then one day, Peyton pulls up in a Ferrari. The Ferrari was better, so even though she loved you, she had to trade you in on a Bugatti Veyron.
“Oh. What a bitch.” He is quiet for a minute. “The breakup hurt.”
“I can tell it hurt. I’m sorry. I also know how you feel. I had someone do the same thing to me recently.”
“You got traded in too?”
“Different reason, but same hurt.”
He looks at me with the most adorably sweet eyes.
“I’m sorry you got hurt too. What you said about my brother earlier, that really true?”
I laugh. “No. I was teasing. Besides, I’ve know him for three freaking days.”
“Yeah, but you’re hurt, and this is all new and exciting. Trust me, it will get old and boring pretty fast.”<
br />
“So have you tried to get her back?”
“Ye-ah. All the time. She won’t listen to me. Says we can be friends. I can’t be her friend.”
“So you’ve apologized?”
“Apologized for what? You said I didn’t do anything.”
“Sure you did. You suddenly weren’t good enough. It pissed her off and forced her hand. She hated that she had to break up with you. You were the golden couple. Then, to top it off, when she dumped you, you started hooking up with everyone, anyone. Now she couldn’t get back with you even if she wanted to. Unless . . .”
“What the fuck? What do you mean unless?”
“Unless you earn back your golden status. What Aiden said last night when you were touching my top. You been acting like that a lot lately?”
“We just got back to school!”
“This summer maybe? Last spring?”
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, maybe. So what am I supposed to do? Go without girls to try and prove something to her?”
“I think maybe that’s exactly what you need to do.”
“No. I can’t freaking win.”
“What if you could?”
“What do you mean?”
“I think your image needs a makeover.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Dallas creeps up and whispers, “Hey, y’all.” He sits down next to me and wraps me in a big hug. “I love you already, you know that?”
“Hey, I need love too,” Dawson says, so Dallas and I jump on him, knock him to the ground, and hug him exaggeratedly.
Dallas says, “So tonight was good, then went to shit. What happened with Aiden?”
“Yeah, what happened with Aiden?” Dawson asks.
“Well, he took me to his dorm room, opened the door, and he had put lights up on the ceiling and had rose petals on the floor, and seriously, I was pissed. Here he had been telling me he wanted to dance with me, made it sound all romantic, and I walk into this huge seduction scene.”
“So you don’t want to do it with Aiden?” Dallas asks.
“Well, not yet! Not until I know if he likes me, and we go out, and fall in love or something. Like it’d be a while, for sure! Especially since I’m not falling in love with anyone here. I am so done with love. And, after last night, I thought we were done, but then he scored the points for me. So we danced, and he kissed his amazing kisses. But still, no making out. No tongues. No hands. Nothing. Then he decides to pop the champagne, and then he does this really sweet toast. By fucking Keats.”
“What’s wrong with Keats? I thought girls love that poetry shit,” Dawson says.
And Dallas is like, “Does that have something to do with the surfer?”
“Yeah. He used to call me his Keats, and he always quoted Keats poetry to me. And he did one about nothing becoming real until you experience it and that was right before we first had sex. Not that long ago.”
Dawson lowers his voice. “Oh, dude, bad move, huh? Like, mood killer?”
“Ya think? I froze. Then I slammed two glasses of champagne. He didn’t know. And his quote was sweet, like about bliss and kisses.”
Dallas laughs and nudges me with his elbow. “So, then did he try to get down and dirty?”
“No! We kissed. But his hands stayed put.”
“You can kiss me. I promise my hands won’t stay put,” Dallas shoots back.
“That goes for me too.” Dawson grins.
“You,” I say, pointing to Dawson, “are done with the random hookups. No kissing. No sex. You are a good boy from now on.”
Dallas rolls out a blanket for us. “So, that sounded okay. Why don’t you think he likes you?”
“Because then he asked why my face went white when he said the quote and I told him. He asked me if I had sex with the guy and if I loved him. I told him he was my first love, and he’d always be special. Then he looked pissed at me. Then he patted my shoulder and said, See ya later, Boots. What does that mean? Does he like me or hate me?”
“I vote for hate you.” Dallas grins.
“Yeah, me too,” Dawson adds.
“You guys suck.”
Dallas says with a naughty voice, “Well, we don’t, but, hey, you feel like sucking something, we certainly won’t stop you.”
I punch him.
“Okay, here, we need this.”
Dallas lights up his party favor, and we get a little baked.
The night air gets cold and pretty soon we’re all wrapped up in the blanket.
And I’ve smoked enough that I start gabbing philosophically.
“So back to making over your image, Dawson. I mean, think about it. You know how, like, in Hollywood if someone gets caught cheating on their wife, or gets a DUI, or goes to rehab, they look bad? People think they are doing bad things, their movies maybe don’t sell, they can’t get corporate sponsors, advertising dollars, that kind of thing. There are publicists who specialize in making over your image. Maybe hook you up with a charity event, get you photographed doing good, raising money, happy pics of your happy family. I can help you with that, but you have to do what I say.”
“I don’t wanna look lame,” Dawson says.
“What do you think your reputation is at school? How do people view you?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m pretty popular. A good athlete. A nice guy.”
“Maybe that’s what you used to be. I mean, I know I’ve only been here a few days, but I see you as a guy who is a dick to his brother, is a player, a partier, and a quarterback who doesn’t give a shit.”
“Dallas, what do you think?”
“I’d have to agree with her. Sorry.”
“Well, shit.”
“Are you a good quarterback?”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“Okay, so here’s what you’ve got going for you. You’re hot. Like, besides the God of all Hotties, you’re the most gorgeous guy here. Amazing body. That’s the first thing I noticed about you. Course, you had your shirt off. Maybe you should walk around school with no shirt on. Then no one would care about your reputation.”
“But if I can’t be with other girls, what good will it do me?”
“Dude, I don’t think she said you couldn’t be with any girls. You just can’t be with every girl. He could have a girlfriend, right? Just not a bunch of hookups?”
“Right, Dallas! Oh, that would make her so jealous. Hookups. Kissing fresh meat. Ogling bras. That just makes her know she was right.”
“And you need to be nicer to Riley.”
“Damn, Dallas, you’re good. He’s right. You’re a jerk to your brother.”
“Yeah, I suppose I have been kind of a douche to him.”
“What about that Social Committee that Peyton is on? Are you on it? Is Whitney on it?”
“Of course, she’s on it. She thinks she runs it. Although I’m pretty sure this guy, Brad, and Peyton do all the work. I could get on it if I wanted to.”
“Do it. You need to get back to your confident self. I see you moping around her. Embrace your new friendship.”
“I want to go homecoming with her.”
“Then that’s your goal. You’ll be a good brother, a good quarterback, a nice guy, and a leader. New and improved and, most importantly, desirable. If every girl here wants you, she’ll want you back. I like this new you already,” I tell Dawson. “You seem much nicer than the dick I first met.”
“Maybe you should help me make her jealous.”
“I think I have enough complications as it is. I could flirt with you, but I couldn’t kiss you. My experience was awful. Sorry, but it was.”
“Maybe I need to fix that.”
“Fix what?”
He leans in and kisses me. A slow, sweet kiss.
And I can’t help it. I kiss him back a little.
Just, like, to verify my opinion of his kissing.
“So what do you think? I can’t have you going around telling everyone how awful I am. Tha
t will not be good for my image.”
“True.” I giggle. “And it wasn’t awful.”
Sunday, August 28th
I think you forgot love.
1pm
Dallas, Riley, Katie, Tyrese, Dawson, Ace, me, and a bunch of other people are hanging out on the big green Commons between the dorms. Some people are kicking a soccer ball around. Others are throwing a frisbee back and forth. It’s a gorgeous warm afternoon.
We have a little football game going.
Riley passes me the ball and I take off running with it. Dawson chases me and tackles me to the ground.
Then he rolls me over and sits on top of me. I grip the ball with all my might, so he can’t pull it away from me. This game isn’t following very many rules, and I know if I let go he will call fumble even though I’m clearly down.
He tickles my sides in attempt to loosen my grip.
I’m screaming, laughing, and clutching the football when I see Peyton and Whitney walk up.
Whitney crosses her arms and marches away.
We weren’t trying to at all, but I kinda hope for Dawson’s sake that it made her jealous.
Not that there’s anything to be jealous of.
Dawson is still sitting on me, trying to grab the football. I drop my arms to my side, letting go.
“What? You just gave in?” Dawson says with a sexy smirk.
“I think you mean gave up.”
He chuckles. He knows exactly what he said.
I see Riley walk off the field to talk to Audrey, the girl he hooked up with last night. He reminds me so much of Cush.
“Can I ask you a serious question?”
Dawson rolls over to lie in the grass beside me. He bends his arm to hold up his head and says, “Shoot.”
“What do you think is better in a relationship? Friendship or hot sex?”
He reaches out and touches the tip of my nose. “I think you forgot love, silly.”
“Oh, yeah.” I frown.
“Why is that cute little face frowning?”
I let out a sigh. “I’m not sure I know what love is. What it’s supposed to be. It confuses me.”