“I’m not showing you my underwear.”
He leans in closer to me and says quietly, “Well, of course not here, sweetie. I was thinking somewhere more private.”
So done with boys.
Damn, French.
I know we’ve only been in school for four days, but I consider skipping French.
I wonder what happens when you skip?
Seems like I read it in the student guide, but my mind is blank. I start writing another script in my mind. One where I go to the nurse and convince her I have a bad case of cramps or that I’m gonna vomit.
Honestly, vomiting sounds fun compared to sitting in front of Aiden, with his judgmental eyes boring into the back of my head.
He sits down, leans forward in his desk, and whispers into my left ear. “So, I heard you and Dawson are through.”
What!? It’s been—wait, let me check—seventeen minutes since I told Dawson I wouldn’t kiss him again. And Aiden already knows about this?!
I don’t turn around.
I can’t.
I don’t dare look into his eyes or stare at his smile.
I just say, “Where did you hear that?”
“Lunch. Heard he was upset about your stupid Facebook pictures.”
“They aren’t my pictures. I didn’t post them. Didn’t even know that Annie posted them.”
“You know what I mean. The pictures of you two.”
“Dawson and I never even got started, so I’m not sure how we’re through. But I do know that I cannot wait for this weekend.”
“What are you doing? Are you going back home?”
“Nope. Going to see the guy that quotes me Keats.”
“Oh,” he says.
We’re walking out of class when he says to me, “Hey, you coming to watch the JV game tonight? I was thinking about scoring some more points.”
“Good luck with that,” I tell him and leave him in my dust.
Seriously, I AM DONE WITH BOYS.
It’s obvious that I am not in an emotional state to handle any of them.
Wishing it was laced with rum.
7:30pm
Apparently, it’s okay to be done with boys but I still have to go watch them play football. Katie told me I had to go with her to the JV game. Plus, I promised Riley that I would. He told me in History that he’s starting tonight and wants me to watch and cheer for him. He even admitted to being a little nervous about it. Seeing Riley not blazing with confidence was surprising so, of course, I agreed.
Katie and I sit in the bleachers with Annie, Maggie, and Dallas—whose wrist is broken—and some of the freshman boys from orientation.
Riley does really well. He lines up under center, drops back, and throws a perfect long spiral down the field, straight into Aiden’s open hands. Aiden catches it and runs about eight yards into the end zone. We all scream, cheer, and shake paper pompoms. Aiden tosses the ball back to the ref, looks straight into the stands—at me, I think—kisses his glove, and blows the kiss into the stands.
I know I should be thrilled that the god just blew me a kiss, but all I can see is Cush’s face. His dimples flashing at me when he shot me a kiss after he scored during his soccer game. Right before he took me to our perfect night at the hotel.
I wonder what he’s doing right now.
And I pray to God it’s not Vanessa.
Dallas turns to me and says in a high-pitched voice, “Oh, how adorable! Aiden blew me a kiss. Now I just need to find out what color his panties are and we will get married, buy an organic farm, adopt twins, and happily wear pink for the rest of our lives.”
I roll my eyes at him.
Katie grabs my arm with excitement. “Oh my gosh! Did Aiden just blow you a kiss?!”
“I’m not really sure. Maybe he just does that whenever he scores, you know, like blowing them into the stands at his fans or whatnot. Or maybe he has a girlfriend we don’t know about.”
“Or maybe he considers you his girlfriend, and you just don’t know it yet.”
“That is definitely not it. Hey, I’m gonna go get a hotdog. Anybody want anything?”
I threw my lunch in the trash, skipped dinner to sulk, and now I’m starved. Dallas asks me to bring him some Skittles as I clump down the bleachers.
Dawson has been sitting in the bleachers just below and slightly to the left of us with a group of people, cheering enthusiastically for his brother. Which I am really glad to see.
Whitney and Jake are nowhere to be seen. I heard in dance today that they’re going out, but Katie told me it is not FBO, Facebook official, yet, so not to believe the rumors.
I believe the rumors and know without a doubt it’s true. You could see it coming. She’s been publicizing the hell out of Jake. Sending out all sorts of little rumors. Getting people talking about him. And she’s been making out with Jake in front of Dawson every chance she gets. She wants to make him jealous. She doesn’t really want him, she just wants him to want her, to pine for her. Having someone as hot as Dawson begging for you ups your status.
The thing with girls like her, though, is they are sneaky. They’re always planning and scheming. That’s why they’re hard to beat. Who else would spend so much time trying to get Jake built up to relationship status? And to one-up Dawson in the process.
She should be a publicist when she grows up. She has marketed Jake to perfection. She’s made him into the new It boy in less than a week.
That’s what Vanessa was planning on doing to the lacrosse player that got hot over the summer. She wanted to parade him around school. Make them the next power couple.
Is there some top-secret Alpha guide somewhere? Because clearly Whitney and Vanessa are following the same handbook.
I have to walk in front Dawson and crew to go to the concession stand.
I really should’ve thought ahead and sent Dallas.
Tyrese, who is sitting right next to Dawson, yells at me, “Keatyn-baby, come here!”
I want to pretend that I didn’t hear him, but I’m like a dog; when I hear my name I can't help but turn my head toward the noise.
But guess what, boys? I’m not coming here.
I look at Tyrese, lift my chin in the air, give him a little princess-in-the-crowd wave, smile, and keep on walking.
I get to the concession stand.
Decide to feed my depression with food.
Buy two hotdogs and three types of candy.
I’m stuffing one of the hotdogs into my mouth, eating it quickly so that when I get back to the stands it will look like I only bought one.
My mouth is stuffed full when Dawson rounds the corner and beelines straight toward me.
Shit.
I chew as fast as I can and choke down a piece that is way too big to swallow—but I manage—and chug some diet Coke, seriously wishing it was laced with rum, as he says, “Keatyn.”
“Hey, Riley’s doing great tonight. You should be proud.” I try to walk past him. He grabs my arm, holding me back.
“I’m sorry, okay?” He hangs his head.
“Yeah, okay,” I say back. Damn him for having such adorable and pathetic-looking eyes. He stands there, looking at me. But I’m not caving. “Anything else you needed? I have to get this hotdog back to Dallas.”
“Yeah, there is.” He pulls me into his lips. His kiss is soft and sweet. It’s an I’m-sorry kiss. And it makes me feel surprisingly happy. “Can we hang out tonight after the game?”
Happy, yes, but I’m still pissed. “Sorry, I can’t. I have homework to do and posters to make for dance.”
He looks like he doesn’t believe me.
I’m not lying, though. I really need to do those things tonight. I’d be in big trouble if I flunked out of here.
“Okay, uh, well, see you tomorrow, then, I guess.”
“Sounds good.” I turn my back on him and walk back to the safety of my friends.
Once back in my seat, I notice two girls chatting enthusiastically a couple rows in front of us and a little to my right. “Hey, look, it’s Facebook official. Jake and Whitney are going out,” one girl says to the other.
“I heard that Jake is in line for the British throne. Like he could be King someday.”
“Oh my gosh. He’s so dreamy. It’s so not fair that Whitney always gets the hottest guys.”
“He is dreamy. And of course she does. She’s, like, perfect. I wish I was her.”
“Did you see those pictures of Dawson and the new chick?”
“Ohmigawd, I know. Were they not the most adorable thing ever? I want to hate her just because of Dawson, but it sounds like she’s actually nice, not a bitch like Whitney.”