by Jillian Dodd
I can tell by the look on her face that this does not sound fun to her.
She glances at her watch. “Uh, I’d really love to.” She looks up at the sky, obviously trying to come up with an excuse. “But I have some things to do. New books to catalog and things.”
The librarian is a bad actress.
But I know that now she will not want me to finish with Dawson quickly. And also will not be checking to see if we are done because she knows if she does, I will make her listen. It should insure almost total privacy.
She hands me a key. “Room seven.”
I wave for Dawson to follow me.
We get into the room, and he pins me against the wall, kissing me. I make him stop. He’s still leaning up against me and unbuttoning my blouse as I start reading loudly off my note cards. “HI, I’M KEATYN MONROE, AND I’M RUNNING FOR STUDENT COUNCIL AND I WOULD LOVE YOUR VOTE. SOME ISSUES I THINK THAT NEED TO BE . . .”
I hear a bit of movement outside the door and know she was listening, got bored, and went back to the Lean Cuisine I could smell when we walked in.
“So, I’m supposed to talk to you about some fines?” Dawson grins.
I grin back at him. Then I pull the pins out of my bun, shake my long hair out, and finish unbuttoning my blouse. I’m wearing a new black lace push-up bra.
He leans down and kisses all around the bra.
I pull his head up and say, “Oh, no. You were bad. You didn’t return your library books and you haven’t paid your fines.”
“I’m really sorry,” he says, but he is so grinning. “What can I do about it?”
I pull his tie, making him come closer to me. “Well, the truth is, I kinda like rebels.”
“Oh really?” he says, as I push him up against the door, kneel, and unzip his shorts.
“Oh, god, I love the library,” he moans.
“You should. At the library we love stories with, uh, happy endings.”
And then I proceed to give him a happy ending of his own.
Stop gossiping.
6:30pm
After our fun at the library, Dawson does act like he practically worships me. He keeps rubbing my back with his hand and gazing into my eyes during dinner.
Riley and Dallas sit with us and are talking to me about possible Student Council issues, but Riley keeps looking at us funny.
I go up to grab some more ketchup, and Riley follows me. “What did you do to my brother?”
“What?”
“He’s all, like, I don’t know, girly-acting.”
“Girly?”
“Yeah, like all lovey dovey.”
“So? I think it’s cute.”
“You were late for dinner. Dawson’s always here right at six because he’s starving after football.”
“He met me in the library for a few minutes. I wanted him to hear my speech for tomorrow, critique it for me.”
“Your shirt’s still unbuttoned.”
I look down, and it’s not. It’s buttoned just fine. I look up at Riley, who grins at me. “Caught ya.”
“Shut up. We were at the library. Ask Dawes.”
“I just might.”
I walk over to the dessert line and look longingly at it. I probably shouldn’t have any since I missed dance today. And I have so much homework tonight, no way I will have time to work out.
Aiden strolls up behind me.
“Hey, Boots.”
“Hey, thanks for getting my phone out of jail. Oh, and for the candy. It’s really good.”
“Yeah, it is.” He has puzzled look on his face. “So did you get it?”
“Get my phone? Yeah, I just told you . . .”
“No. The candy. The name of the candy.”
“Uh . . . ?” I give him a blank look.
“Did you look up the French word yet? Your lips are my . . . what?”
“Oh, no, uh, not yet.”
He looks a little hurt and he sighs. “Oh, well, just tell me when you do, I guess.”
I decide to forgo dessert and carry the ketchup to the hungry boys. Riley has stolen my spot next to Dawson. He, Jake, and Ace are having a conversation about me, I think. Because it gets very quiet when I sit down on Dawson’s lap.
“What were you just talking about?”
Riley says, “Your speech. I was just asking Dawson what you say in it.”
That boy is too tricky for his own good.
Riley continues. “You told me you went to the library and did your speech for him. But it seems he doesn’t really know much about the speech.” He smirks at me.
He is such a shit.
“Add that to the fact that you look like a naughty librarian today and, I don’t know, it’s just kinda adding up.”
“I did do some of the speech,” I say to Dawson.
He tries to contain his smile. “I know, but you took out your bun. I wasn’t really listening.”
“See,” I say to Riley. “He just wasn’t focused. Obviously, I need to rework my speech. I gotta go campaign. Talk to some people. Hand out candy.”
Dawson gets up, grabs me, and whispers in my ear. “I haven’t said a word, but I can’t freaking stop grinning. And he kinda tricked me on the speech thing.”
“So, you liked?”
“Uh, liked is an understatement.”
“Good. Hey, just text me tonight. I really do have a ton of homework. And tell your brother to stop gossiping and get to work on our History project.”
Bliss.
9pm
I get back to my room. Katie is with Jordan “studying” English, and I, excitingly, have the room to myself. I’m going to get so much done. I move all the candy off my bed and remember I still need to look up the word. Your lips are my something.
I grab my phone, put in the word béatitude into my translation app, and up pops a word.
BLISS.
Oh. My. Gosh.
He thinks my lips are his bliss?! And he left me Hershey’s Bliss candies. That is sooooo freaking adorable. I might cry, it’s so adorable.
Me: Bliss, huh? The Keats quote. The candies? Pretty clever of you.
Hottie God: About time you figured it out. So?
Me: So what?
Hottie God: Are my lips YOUR bliss?
Me: Of course not.
Hottie God: You’re lying to yourself, Boots.
Me: Maybe you’re lying to yourself.
Hottie God: We’ll table that discussion for now. So I was looking over these ideas you sent Brad. They’re good. But there’s one I’m especially excited about.
Me: Which one?
Hottie God: You’ll find out tomorrow. I’m busy doing a little campaigning of my own tonight.
Me: Idk what that means exactly, but okay. Bright and early :/
Hottie God: No :/ Now it’s :D Because you get to see me.
I don’t respond, but I can’t help but smile as I finish my homework.
Tuesday, September 13th
Outlined by golden rays.
6-freaking-thirty?
Social Committee meeting. Why else would I be up so early? And this meeting started at 6:30. I know we have a lot to do and I’m excited we got the dean’s approval, but really? Six-freaking-thirty?
I sit down in an empty seat next to Brad. Aiden is sitting with Whitney on one side of him and his sister on the other. He gives me a blazing smile and really his teeth alone are worth getting up for.
Brad reaches in his backpack, pulls out a Red Bull, and hands it to me.
“Ohmigawd, thank you,” I whisper. “You are so my new best friend.”
He grins then stands up to speak.
“Well, the good news is we got approval from the dean to start planning our first themed weekend. The bad news is we have a new member. Everyone say hey to Aiden.”
Brad chuckles and Aiden laughs and shakes his fist at Brad.
Is he freaking friends with everyone?
“So, our first weekend will be held in conjunction with the prospective student weekend, whic
h means we’ll have to do it up right. Since we’ve already chosen our first theme, I’ll let Peyton and Aiden take over.
We chose a theme? Who did and when?
Aiden and Peyton both stand up. Aiden says, “We’re going with a Greek theme for our first weekend. Think Greek gods, togas, mythology.”
My eyes get huge. The God of all Hotties planned a Greek-themed weekend? Did he choose it so he can finally be fully in his element? Or does he still not know he’s a god? Maybe this will be his coming out party. When he can finally tell the world what he truly is.
He and Peyton go on and on about how they are going to get the art club to draw huge sketches of the gods. The theater tech club to work with the art club making Greek backdrops, which will hang in the student center. The drama club to do a play. We get to wear togas one night. The café will serve Greek food. The Greek mythology class will sell laurel wreaths to make money for an activity they are trying to fund. We’ll have Olympic-style competitions.
I’m not really listening. I’m daydreaming. Imaging Aiden in a toga and a gold laurel wreath.
They stop talking and Aiden hands out sheets of paper with the club or group we are in charge of.
Does he know I call him the God of all Hotties?
Ohmigawd. Now I’m so embarrassed.
I can barely look at him when he hands me a list.
I pretend to look for something in my black patent Jimmy Choo bag. I touch the colored rock Emery gave me when I left home. I keep moving it and Avery’s purple glitter marker into whichever bag I carry. Ivery’s Tinker Bell wand stays in my closet. I want to wish on it every morning, but I’m saving my wish for when I really need it.
Aiden stops in front of my desk and sets a piece of paper on it. I shut my purse and mess with the red over-the-knee socks that I wore today with a pair of black suede Bottega Veneta platform oxford pumps.
Peyton finishes passing out her lists, then says, “I’d like to talk about Homecoming. It’s only a few weeks away. I really wish that there was something we could do just for us.”
This is a much safer thing to talk about. And it makes me curious. So I ask, “What do you mean just for us? Isn’t Homecoming about us?”
She sighs. “No. It’s a big deal. Full of tradition. All the alumni come back and participate. We have to be on our best behavior the entire time. And the schedule is set in stone. The entire week is spirit week. We dress up each day. We have the voting for court, the parade, the pep rally and bonfire, the alumni tailgate, the game, the coronation, the alumni picnic, and then the dance. The alumni come to the dance.”
Brad says, “It’s a really busy weekend and fun, but Peyton’s right. The activities are geared toward the alumni. Our Welcome Back dance is always a blast, but you can’t bump and grind in front of the alumni or you get into trouble, so the music is kinda lame.”
“Why can’t we have our own dance?” I ask.
“They’d never let us,” Peyton sighs again. “Like I said, the weekend is a huge tradition. Been done this way for decades. All the alumni come back, bring their families. They incorporate the class reunions into it.”
“So we can’t change what’s in place?” Aiden asks.
“Right,” Peyton replies.
“So can we add to it?” I ask, completely understanding the direction Aiden was heading with his question.
“What do you mean?” Peyton says.
“Well, there is something you’re definitely missing.”
“What?”
“An after-party. We go to dinner, do the alumni dance, leave when it’s over, and then go to our own party.”
“What would we do? Where would we have it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we rent out a club, get a good DJ, change out of our pretty dresses into something more club appropriate.”
“As in, skimpy?” Logan says. “Hell, I’m a fan of the idea already.”
Peyton flirts, “Well, sure, dancing's hard work.”
Whitney scowls. “There’s no way the school would pay for all that.”
Peyton slumps down. She likes to dance as much as I do. “You’re probably right.”
“So why don’t we?” Aiden says, smiling at me.
“We what?” Whitney scoffs.
“We pay for it. Or get our parents to. Get sponsors or something.”
Brad says, “I don't know about your parents, but I’m pretty sure mine would be cool with it.”
Whitney surprises me when she agrees with Brad. “I think having a few people sponsor it is a good idea.” Then she spoils it when she looks at me and adds, “That way we can make it exclusive and only invite the coolest people.”
Which, I’m pretty sure, would not include me.
“No way, Whitney,” Aiden and Brad say at the same time. Brad continues. “If we want the dean to approve it, we need to invite everyone. If you want to have an exclusive party, you’ll have to do that on your own.”
Is it bad I almost want to applaud?
“Besides, if we have it at a club, we want the place packed.” I grin and think of something to make us all happy. “But, Whitney, that doesn't mean we can't have a special VIP area.”
“How would you decide who would get in there?” Peyton asks.
“Just like anything else in life. The biggest donors get the VIP treatment. We can have levels of giving once we figure out what it will cost. We’ll need to pay to rent the club, hire a sweet DJ, snacks for when we get there, lots of energy drinks. Then, later, we should serve breakfast.”
“That’s a lot to plan on such short notice. Plus, I don’t really want to be working,” Logan says.
“That’s a good point. We need an event planner to just do it all.”
“Let’s get it approved first,” Brad says. Then he turns to me, “You’re up with the dean again.”
As Aiden and I are walking out, I say, “So why Greek and togas?”
He stops and looks at me. “I shouldn’t tell you this.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Okay, fine. Don’t tell me.” I start to walk away.
He reaches out and puts his hand gently on my shoulder. Shivers run down to my toes.
“This sounds kind of stupid now, but that day when you kicked the soccer ball at my head, the way the sun was shining behind you all I really saw was your face, outlined by golden rays. You looked kinda like a goddess. I honestly thought I was dreaming. Then, when the soccer ball went whizzing by my head, I realized you were real. I’m glad you’re real.”
I laugh.
He says, “See, I knew you would think it was stupid.”
“Aiden.”
“What?”
“I’m laughing because before I knew your name, I had a nickname for you.”
He tightens his jaw and squints his eyes at me. “Do I even want to know?”
I smile and say, “Probably not, but let’s just say this themed weekend is very appropriate. If it turns out good, I’ll tell you. When you’re in your toga. Gold laurel wreath on your head.”
“I’ve never worn a toga, and I thought the wreaths were supposed to be green.”
“Not yours.”
Sucking your face.
Lunch
I sit at Dawson’s table. I call it Dawson’s table because I refuse to claim it as my own, even though I seem to sit here most days. The usual suspects are here: Ace, Jake, Whitney, Peyton, Tyrese, Bryce, and the other pretty girls who seem to have no desire to ever speak to me.
When we sit down, Whitney says to the table, “All this Social Committee crap has made me realize we need to get the hell out of here. I say next weekend we all drive up the coast. Stay somewhere fabulous. Relax all day, party all night.”
“That sounds awesome,” Jake says. I can see his mind running wild about being in a hotel room alone with Whitney.
The girls next to her all giggle, hold hands, and look at Whitney in awe, like she just announced she discovered a cure for cance
r, not suggested a weekend away.
Peyton says, “Somewhere with a spa sounds incredible.”
Whitney says, “Of course, that’s how we’ll relax.”
Bryce and Tyrese say at the same time, “I’m in.”
Whitney turns to Dawson. “What about you, Dawes? You in?”
Dawson cocks his head and shrugs his shoulder. “Sure, why not.”
Whitney smiles and clasps her hands together indicating that it’s a done deal. “Mark your calendars and I’ll take care of everything else.”
I finish my lunch quickly and go off to do more campaigning.
When I hand out all the candy in my bag, I find Katie, Annie, and Maggie sitting with Riley and Dallas and some other guys.
I sit down next to Dallas.
“We’re going to the cave tonight,” he whispers to me. “I don’t care how much homework you have or how tired you are. You’re going. You, me, and Riley. Don’t invite anyone else. I mean, we can’t stop people from being there, but, you know, we don’t have to tell them we are going, and we don’t have to invite them. And that includes your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. Stop calling him that.”
“I don’t care what you call him. I just want to talk to you without him sucking on your face.”
“Okay, fine.”
“Tonight, baby.” Riley grins at me.
“How’s the campaigning going?” Dallas asks me, Katie, and Maggie.
“It’s going great,” Maggie says. “It’s a great way to talk to everyone. We handed out a ton of candy, and I had three seniors ask for my number.”
“What do you think of my competition?” I ask Annie, who is probably the most informed.
“Well, I’d say your only real competition is Benjamin. He wants to be President someday, he’s very serious, and he would probably do a really good job. He’s talking about all sorts of important issues, like funding and economic change.”
“It’s freaking Student Council, people, he’s not going to affect funding or economic change here.”