He sticks his fake chest out, puts his hand on his hip, puckers up his bright red lips, and blows kisses to the crowd. Everyone claps.
Then he does his cheer. “Be Aggressive . . .”
When he finishes the cheer, he attempts a cheerleading jump.
The jump is pretty good, but causes one of his fake boobs to fall out of the sweater.
Of course, everyone laughs and cheers about that.
The dean calls up the next candidate and so goes on the annihilation of all that is sacred to cheerleaders. It’s hilarious. I can see why everyone looks forward to the contest.
Aiden is up last. He looks a lot like Peyton, and if it weren’t for his manly build and the stubble on his face, he’d make a pretty girl. He’s got on a long blonde wig but, unlike all the other contestants who have worn cheerleader costumes, he’s wearing a version of the kitty costume I have on today.
All the way down to the tail.
Some of the guys make catcalls. Haha. Get it? Catcalls?
Anyway, people are whistling and yelling out his name.
I expect a cheerleader to walk out with him like Ariela walked out with Dawson, but instead, Peyton walks out. She brushes his hair down and then turns to speak to the crowd. “And our last contestant in the Mr. Eastbrooke contest is Aiden Arrington.” She shakes her head and smiles at her brother. “I hope you are ready for this!”
She points her arm over to Shark, who flips on loud dance music.
Oh. My. Gosh.
Is he going to dance?
He said he never would.
I watch Peyton go sit in the stands next to a man and woman who must be her parents. Both her face and Aiden’s look a lot their mother, but their dad is equally attractive. Actually, that’s not true. Aiden’s dad is hot. Aiden may have gotten his pretty face and green eyes from his mom, but everything else is all dad. The strong jawline, the color of stubble on his cheeks, the broad shoulders tapering down to a lean torso. Even the little freckle on his cheek.
Aiden picks up a pair of pompoms and starts doing one of our dance routines.
And although I shouldn’t be, I’m quite shocked at how good he is.
Like, he is a really good dancer. Not quite as good as Sander was, but clearly good enough to blow away the other contestants.
The crowd goes nuts, cheering, screaming.
Maggie keeps hitting me on the arm. “Oh my god, are you watching this?”
“I think everyone is watching this.”
“Who knew he could dance like that. I told you. I don’t think there’s anything that boy can’t do.”
He can’t speak French worth a shit, I think to myself.
“Why doesn’t he dance like that all the time?”
“I don’t know,” I reply.
“Oh my gosh! He just did the booty shake. Like, he did it pretty good. Gosh, he is sexy. Justin Timberlake better watch out. I wonder if he can sing too?”
“Have you always been such a big fan of his?”
“Everyone has always been a big fan of his. I don’t know. He’s always been hot but this year there’s just something more mature about him. He’s gotten totally sexy.”
“Hmm.”
By the time Aiden finishes, the entire gymnasium, including Maggie and me, are on our feet giving him a standing ovation.
Peyton runs out onto the court and gives her brother a big hug as the dean announces, “By unanimous decision, Aiden Arrington is this year’s Mr. Eastbrooke.”
The soccer team rushes onto the floor and jumps around him.
I glance over at Aiden’s mom. She’s in tears but beaming with pride. Which causes me to get tears in my eyes.
Because I know why he did it.
Why he risked making a fool of himself in front the whole school. He wanted to make his mom, the person he loves, happy.
I feel like I just watched him grow up a little.
They put the silly princess crown on his head and a red glittered sash around his chest.
“This concludes the pep rally, so everyone head out to the alumni tailgate,” the dean announces.
Everyone files out of the gymnasium, but I’m stuck in my spot.
I still have tears in my eyes as I watch Aiden in the crowd.
I find myself walking over to congratulate him.
There’s lots of girls giving him hugs and kisses on the cheek. Guys patting him on the back and giving him fist bumps. But he sees me sort of standing here waiting and moves out of the crowd toward me.
I can’t keep the tears out of my eyes.
I don’t know why what he did is affecting me so much. I think it’s the combination of seeing his mom. Knowing what she’s gone through. What their family has gone through. And probably a lot of me wishing my own mom could be here today. To see me perform. To beam with pride as I take the field at halftime as part of the Homecoming Court in a beautiful dress and shoes that I picked out completely by myself.
I want to make my parents proud too.
He stands in front of me and wipes a tear from my cheek. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m just really proud of you, Aiden. You should have seen your mom. She teared up and beamed when you won. I just think it’s really cool that you risked making a fool of yourself for her. You did it for her, right?”
“I did it for all the people that I love. Did you love it?”
“Everyone loved it. You got a freaking standing ovation.”
“That’s not what I asked. Did you love it?”
I take a deep breath, so that I won’t start crying. “I loved it, Aiden. I really loved it.”
I get the grin. The grin that grows into the megawatt, brighter-than-the-sunset smile. “I want you to meet my parents,” he says. He takes ahold of my elbow and guides me through the crowd that is still trying to congratulate him.
“Mom, Dad, this is Keatyn Monroe. She’s the girl I told you about.”
Told them about?
Shit. What did he tell them? That he hates me most of the time?
That I’m a freaking soccer-ball-stealing, boot-wearing, French-speaking lunatic?
Aiden’s mom holds out her hand. As we shake, Aiden’s dad says, “We understand Aiden’s French has improved because of you.”
Tutoring. Thank god. He just told them I’m his tutor.
I smile. “Yes, but we still have a long way to go. Especially if he’s going to get to our goal of a B.”
Aiden’s mom smiles. “We heard you’re taking him to France to celebrate when that happens.”
I look at Aiden. My eyes search his for answers. He told his parents that?
He gives me a sly grin.
“He sort of tricked me into agreeing to that,” I say honestly.
His mother laughs. “He’s had that gift since he was a little boy. He smiles that dang smile and looks at you with those big green eyes and he can get away with anything.”
“Mom!” Aiden says, laughing. “Don’t give away all my secrets.”
“Oh, that one I already know,” I say with a laugh of my own. I like his mom already.
Peyton interjects, “Yeah, he never got into trouble. He’d always make Mom laugh or he’d kiss her on the nose and get out of it. It never worked for me.”
Peyton’s dad laughs. “Give us a break. You may not know how to work your Mom, but you have your daddy wrapped around your little finger.”
Peyton beams and gives her dad a hug.
Aiden says, “Well, I supposed I better get out of this makeup and ready for the game.”
“Oh, I have to get going too. It was nice to meet you both.”
Aiden and I turn and walk away in the same direction. “Your parents are great.”
He nods. “Yeah, they are. I’m lucky. Everyone has been complaining about their families coming. I couldn’t wait to see mine. I bet it’s hard not having yours here. Hey, who is going to walk you onto the field?”
“It is, but my uncle is coming.”
We get to the boys’ locker room and as he heads through the door I sort of whisper, “Good luck, Aiden.”
He hears me, stops, does a one-eighty, and comes back to me. He pulls up the sleeve of the black leotard he’s wearing. On his arm is a marker drawn four-leaf clover.