by Jillian Dodd
Me: Shit.
Jake: Don’t worry, Monroe. Jakey loves you.
Me: You barely know me.
Jake: I know enough to know you’re not a bitch.
Me: Truth?
Jake: You a closet bitch? You waiting for the right time to come out?
Me: No. But I was best friends with a girl like Whitney at my old school. I didn’t like the person I was becoming. It wasn’t me. I swore when I came here, I would do things differently. I’m hoping to make some friends who won’t stab me in the back the second I turn around.
Jake: That’s gonna be tough to find here.
Me: Are you telling me you’re a closet bitch??
Jake: Very funny. Hell no. I meant girls.
Me: Annie, Maggie, and Katie don’t seem that way. Not all girls are that way.
Jake: Speaking of girls. How’s the research going?
Me: Maggie is out surveying.
Jake: Sweetness.
Then I text Dawson.
Me: Love your status. Hate the comments.
Dawson: Sorry, Keatie :( They just think we made out.
Me: Jake saw your hand up my skirt. I’m pretty sure he knows it was more than that. Plus, you just said hell, yeah. Making out doesn’t usually get a hell, yeah.
Dawson: Oh…
Me: Do you want to tell people?
Dawson: No, but it’s kinda fun to have them guessing, I never…never mind. I’ll tell them to stop.
Me: Naw, it’s okay. Have fun, just keep them guessing.
Dawson: You make me feel so amazing.
Me: Doesn’t every guy say that after sex?
Dawson: You don’t get it. YOU make me feel amazing. Yeah, the sex is great, but it’s because it’s with you. Go out with me.
Me: (: And no freaking way!!!
Dawson: I’m hurt!
Me: Then don’t ask a girl to go out by text. It’s tacky. Plus, then you will think it’s okay to break up with me by text, and that is not cool.
Dawson: I’m not going to break up with you. Like ever.
Me: Promises, promises.
Dawson: Made good on my promise earlier ;)
Me: Yeah, you did.
Dawson: Night, Keatie.
Me: Night :)
Me: Hey wait, we’re taking a poll. How long do you think a girl should make a guy wait for sex? Like not us, but normally.
Dawson: I think what we did was perfect. Seriously :)
Me: You’re so sweet <3
Annie is still rambling on. “Ace just said, We gonna kick some ass Friday night? and then Brad said, Fuck yeah. Have you met Brad yet? He’s pretty active. Captain of the football defense, Social Committee, and on pretty much everything else.”
“I haven’t met him yet, but I think I know who you’re talking about.”
“Oh, wait, it’s gone. Oh, awhh, ohmigawd, Dawson just changed his status. It says, Keatie and then there’s a heart. That is so cute.”
Katie says, “That is really cute. You need to like that.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, I’m liking it.”
“Everyone is liking it,” Annie informs us. “Like eight people have already liked it.”
“Like who?”
“I don’t know. Everyone. Mostly guys. Dallas just commented and said, Kiki <3, and Jake just said, Monroe <3.”
Katie says, “Okay. You seriously need to move away from the computer. You’re obsessed. Where’s Maggie?”
“I don’t know,” Annie tells her, “but I need cookies. Let’s go down to the kitchen.”
“Can you bring me back a cookie? I’m gonna be up all night if I don't get to work.”
Katie, who is standing by the door, turns back around. “That’s what they make Red Bull for, silly.”
I get about fifteen minutes of interruption-free studying—well, not really; my phone keeps buzzing with texts, but I don’t look at it—and manage to get my math problems done and start the history vocabulary before they all come bounding back into the room.
“Okay, here’s the consensus,” Maggie says. “Most girls say they have waited anywhere from one day to one year. They say if they really like the guy, they usually wait until they are going out before they do. But if they don’t like the guy and just want a hookup then, obviously, they don’t wait.”
“They’re having sex with guys they don’t like?” I ask.
“No. I mean guys they don’t deem as serious boyfriend types,” Maggie answers.
“You guys ever watch Sex and the City?”
“I’ve seen some of them and the movies,” Annie states.
“I had a Sex and the City marathon with my friend when she, uh, broke her leg and couldn't do anything.” Actually, that’s not true. It was after Vanessa got her nose done. “Like, for four days straight we did nothing but watch the series. And on there they talk about the third date as being the sex date.”
And didn’t Tommy say something like that too?
“Yeah, but they’re grown up. I think it’s different when you date boys our age. Like, you don’t want to be just doing it with anyone. And you want them to respect you,” Katie says.
“So, basically, there are no rules. You just go with what you feel like?”
Maggie laughs. “Well, no, if we went with what we felt like, we’d all be sluts.”
We all laugh.
Annie says, “It really is hard for girls. I don’t think guys even understand. I don’t think parents understand. They tell us don’t do it; be a good girl. Our bodies tell us we should be doing it. Like, it used to be once you got your period, you were a woman. You got married and had sex. Guys want you to do it, but they don’t want you to do it too soon. And if you don’t do it soon enough, sometimes they’ll dump you. So then you think, I’ll wait until I find a guy who really loves me. But then some guy tells you he loves you, you do it, and he decides he doesn’t. Society tells us not to do it, but then we have all these sexy images of how we should look. It’s really confusing.”
“That’s true,” I say. “I think everyone has to make their own decision. Whatever your age. I think whatever is right for you is what you should do.”
Katie digests it all and says, “True.”
Maggie says, “So, I think it’s a combination of how the guy treats you, how much you like him, if he seems serious, and if he respects you.” Then she adds naughtily, “And then, when you can’t say no any longer, you give in.”
Annie says, “So, we know Katie’s only done it with her boyfriend—wait, have you and Tyrese?”
“No. I can’t with him. I mean, he’s hot and he’s probably good at it, but we’d definitely have to be going out first. And then, I’d still wait some.”
Annie turns to me, “And you’ve been with two guys, and I haven’t done it yet. Maggie, have you ever had a random hookup?”
Maggie says, “Well, yeah.”
“And?!”
“I can’t decide if I’d rather deal with a stupid boyfriend and all the love bullshit, or the shame I feel after I hookup.”
“That’s pretty deep,” I tell her. “Okay guys, I’m calling bedtime.”
I go to sleep, and my dreams are haunted by satyrs, evil love gods, and a centaur with Vincent’s face. Then I’m in a meadow, dressed in a white gown with golden trim. I walk out to the middle of the clearing and meet the man I’m getting ready to marry. He’s blurry, though, because I’m wearing a veil, but I can see from his outline he is very handsome, and in my heart I know that I love him. We have the wedding, say I do, and he kisses me through the veil.
Then he takes me out of the clearing to his dorm room for our honeymoon, and I’m sitting on a chair straddling him, like I was Dawson earlier today.
We are kissing and kissing through the veil, and he’s taking off my wedding gown. Then I’m naked except for my veil, and we’re consummating our marriage.
Finally, he lifts the veil in the middle of the consummation to kiss me. And there, staring back
at me, is not the Dawson that I expect to see.
It’s Aiden, wearing a gold laurel wreath around his head.
I wake up sort of throbbing down there.
And wondering, what the hell?
Thursday, September 8th
It’s tutoring with food.
French
When I walk into French, my teacher, Miss Praline, pulls me aside. “Aiden said you won’t be tutoring him. I’d like you to reconsider that.”
“Why?”
“He really struggles in French and barely passed last year, so he’s already behind. He needs this to get into an Ivy League school, which is his goal. I’ll give you extra credit.”
“I don’t need extra credit. I’m very good at French.”
“Please?”
“No. He’s not nice to me.”
“Look, I have an idea. What if I got you on the Social Committee? It’s teacher nominated and you seem to be quite social. I think you would do well on it.”
I think about that for a minute. Dawson thought about getting on it, and I know it’s considered a big deal. Way bigger than Student Council, and it would mean I could help plan dances and events like I wanted to do at my old school. Hmmmm. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
I take my seat, turn around, and try not to look directly at Aiden’s mouth. “So, I heard you really suck at French.”
He frowns a little, and it looks so odd on his mouth.
Shit.
I was not supposed to be looking at his mouth. I seriously need to find a pair of magic Spanx and become a virgin again.
“Yeah, I do,” he says.
“Well, I got asked really nicely—and possibly bribed—by the teacher into helping you, so I guess I am.”
“Really, Boots? That’s awesome.” His frown turns into a smile that almost blinds me, causes me to forget where I am, and makes me want to grab his hand and run off to the land of milk and honey, or, you know, somewhere magical.
“When can we start? Can we do it right after football practice, or would you rather wait until after dinner?”
I was gonna say, Let’s do it after practice and get it over with, but I’ll be sweaty from soccer and dance, and I can’t tutor a god and be sweaty. Actually, I can and I will. If I’m all sweaty and gross, I won’t even think silly romantic things about him. “After dance sounds good most days, but depending on what’s going on, we might have to be a bit flexible on the times.”
He looks dreamily at me. “I’ll be there, whenever you need me.”
“What?! No. You need me.”
He frowns again and puts his hand over his eyes. “I meant I’ll be there, you know, whenever.”
“Okay, so you have a game tonight, and we have a lot due tomorrow. Do you have it done yet?”
“No. I haven’t really started.”
“Well, I have dance until five. What time do you have to be in the locker room?”
“Not until six. And dance is over at 4:30. Why don’t I order some pizza, you can come to my room, and we’ll study and eat? Be there at 4:40.”
“That sounds like a date. And if I come straight from dance, I’ll be all gross.”
“It’s tutoring with food, and I doubt you’re ever gross.”
I know I like Dawson, but I can’t help it. What he just said made me melt a little.
Okay. Fine.
A lot.
Right now, I’m like the lipstick you left in your car in hundred-degree weather.
Then he adds, “Plus if you’re gross, I won’t want to kiss you, so maybe that’s for the best.”
OMG!
He wants to kiss me!
Focus, Keatyn. Focus, girl. You can do it. Speak. Say something coherent. “Yeah, that hasn’t gone so well for us in the past,” I say.
Well, shit! That was coherent, but a slam! I didn’t really want to slam him. I swear, I either am in love with this boy, or I hate him.
“I’d disagree with that. I thought our kisses were amazing. It’s the other stuff that maybe hasn’t gone so well.”
I decide to shut up. Nod my head in agreement and try and look busy with my French workbook.
After class, I grab ahold of Annie. Like, I literally grab her, so she can’t get away from me and cling to her for dear life.
I say to her, “So, you going to the game with us tonight?”
She gets ready to reply, but Aiden breezes past us. “See ya tonight, Boots.”
Both of us freeze and Annie says to me out of the corner of her mouth, “Why are you seeing him tonight?”
“I decided to tutor him.”
“Lucky girl. What’s Dawson gonna think of that?”
“It’s like a job. He won’t care.”
I don’t think.
Haunt his dreams.
4:07pm
I’m pretty good at dance for some strange reason. It’s not that I’m some amazing dancer, but I have a really good memory, and I catch on quick. So when I learn a routine, I learn it quick and don’t mess up much or forget to do it in the right order.
But today, well, I’m just plain distracted.
And who could blame me?
I’m about to throw myself into the lion’s den!
So, there is one thing on my mind: that in exactly thirty-two and a half minutes I am going to be alone in a room with Aiden.
Teaching him the language of love.
And mostly likely thinking I would like to teach him with my lips.
So, yes, I get yelled at by Peyton, Little Miss Perfect Captain. If it weren’t for the fact that she’s nice to me when Whitney isn’t around, I would seriously hate her. I do sort of hate her for one reason. She and Aiden share the same mouth. Like, when she smiles, I can almost see his face. So when she’s nice and smiles at me, I pretty much comply with what she tells me.
I’m dancing, dancing, drinking water, breathing occasionally, dancing, thinking now there are nineteen and three quarters minutes left of practice.
And I need practice to start being over a little early, so I’ll have a few minutes to wash off the sweat and make myself look good. I’m also trying to decide what I should wear to his room. Do I go with the I-just-got-done-with-dance-and-I-look-hot-wearing-my-teeny-spandex-shorts-and-cut-off-red-and-yellow-tie-dyed-shirt-and-I-didn’t-put-forth-any-effort-to-impress-you outfit? Do I put my uniform back on? Or do I wear what I’m going to wear to the game later?
Then I think about Dawson—cute, adorable Dawson—who just might be one of the sweetest and hottest boys ever.
Maybe I should look bad on purpose, so Aiden won’t want to kiss me.
But no! I don’t want him to not want to kiss me.
I want my kisses to haunt his dreams.
I want him to beg for me.
Seriously, the next time he tries to kiss me, I’m going to turn the other way.
I want him down on his knees begging, Please, Boots, please!
Oh, shit. I just kicked at totally the wrong time.
Seven minutes left.
Not that I’m counting.
Step up my game. Do the rest of the routine to perfection. Turn, kick, shimmy, turn right, spin, kick, kick, pompoms up, and kneel.
Let’s get the heck out of here.
But no.
We have to stop and discuss tomorrow night’s festivities in more detail. We’re having a dance sleepover after the game. Everyone is all giddy and excited about this. Whatever.
I need to get out of here!
We already went over this!
I carefully sneak my way out of the dance room and into the changing room. I give myself a quick sink shower, touch up my makeup, throw on deodorant, some perfume and figure, what the hell, let’s give him the legs, leave on my booty shorts, throw on a clean T-shirt, grab my bag, and get over there.
Okay, fine. I did brush my teeth too. Not because I’m thinking I might kiss him. That thought never crossed my mind.
I’m seriously weighed down with my school bag and my dance duffle. As I c
ome out of the field house, there’s Dawson waiting for me. He’s apparently done with football. Of course, all he’s carrying is a little teeny bag.
He’s like, “Where are you going in such a hurry? I thought we could hang before the game.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Miss Praline asked me to tutor someone that’s not doing well in French. I didn’t want to, but she bribed me kinda. Actually, it’s pretty exciting. Don’t tell anyone, but she’s getting me on the Social Committee.”
He hugs me. My duffle drops to the ground. “That’s awesome, Keatie. Maybe I should see if I can get on it too.”
“That would be cool. Okay, so give me a kiss, and then I gotta go. I’ll just meet you up in the stands.”
“You wearing those shorts?”
“Should I?”
“To the game? Hell, no. All the guys would stare, and I’d end up in a fight.” He pulls me in tight and puts his hands directly on the back of my shorts. “But tonight after the game, in my room, definitely.”
“You’re a bad boy.”
“I hope I’m good,” he teases.
“Okay, see you later.”
I bound off. He is following me, of course, because both boys live in the same dorm.
He runs up behind me, grabs my bags, and says, “Why do you need so much stuff?”
“I didn’t have time to stop at my dorm after classes, and I didn’t know I was going to be tutoring him until today.” I open the door to his dorm.
“Him?”
“Yes, him. Don’t be jealous. I want to hurry up and get this over with so I can snuggle up with you in the stands and watch the game.”
We walk by his room. He quickly pulls me inside and pins me against his door.