And I take in every curve and angle of his face.
The way his jawline is flexing slightly. How his eyelashes are a dark, dark brown and curl upward. How he has a sexy teeny freckle just to the side of his left cheek. How his textbook lips are the exact color of the pale pink roses Tommy gave Mom for their anniversary, and how the sides of his mouth are turning up, starting to smile at me. He blinks slowly. When his eyes open, I study the emerald green of his irises, how they have little flecks of blue in them and maybe even a little gold around the edges. I feel like time is standing still again.
He slides his hands up into my hair and leans in to kiss me again. My body is trying to be good, but I can’t stop it from leaning into him. Melding to his body. I could stay this way forever.
He stops kissing me, looks deeply into my eyes again, and tells me he loves me.
Oh, wait.
He didn’t say that.
I just thought that.
Well, I thought his eyes told me that.
Shut up! It’s what it felt like.
And what the hell is with the going so slow? Does he not want to make out with me? Is he gay?
Finally he says, “You should probably go back and check on your friend. Those guys will get her drunk and take advantage of her.”
“We didn’t drink before we came. She can’t be drunk yet, and you promised me a drink.”
“Also, I don’t want people to notice we’ve been gone very long. They’ll think we’re having sex. We don’t want to ruin your reputation on your second day.”
“I think maybe you just don’t want to be alone with me. I don’t understand. You act like you’re all into me, but then we barely kiss.”
I get irritated and frustrated by this, but no way am I going to be the one to move things along.
And I thought he was a player.
So why isn’t he trying to play me? To use me? To take advantage of me?
I shoulda pretended to be drunk, maybe?
He doesn’t really say anything to me, just shakes his head and says, “You just don’t get it, do you?”
And I’m thinking, no, I’m obviously not getting it tonight.
“Apparently not,” I say. Then I storm past him, across the hall, and back into the party.
But I don’t really feel like partying anymore. I want to go home and cry. And what the hell don’t I get?! I mean, besides a good make-out session with the God of all Hotties.
I look around for Katie, find her swigging whiskey straight from the bottle and sitting on Tyrese’s lap.
They start to make out.
Oh, sure.
Dawson gets up off his chair, practically knocking the girl that was sitting on his lap onto the floor, stalks over toward me, grabs me, and pulls me into a kiss. A big, sloppy, wet kiss. An all-sorts-of-tongue kiss. A kiss I was totally not prepared for and am not enjoying in the least.
I pull away from him and run out the door.
Then I sit out in the hall and start to cry a little.
What am I doing here? I just want to go home. But I can’t. Maybe not ever.
Aiden slides down next to me. “Why are you crying?”
“Because he ruined my lips.” Oh. Why did I say that?
“How so?”
And I can’t lie to this boy. “They don’t taste like you anymore. They taste like whiskey and cigarettes. He’s a horrible kisser.”
“He’s drunk and sloppy.”
“You’re not.”
“Let’s get your friend, and I’ll walk you both home.” He seems like such a gentleman.
Or does he want to get me back to my room? Sneak in with me? No. We were already alone. And he didn’t try anything. I don’t think he likes me.
He just wants me gone.
I guess he figured it out quick, like he said.
“You don’t have to do that. I can get us home. Plus, I get it. You already figured it out, right?”
“Figured what out?”
“You know. What you were saying about the one.”
“You’re so cute, and you’re making no sense. Come here.”
And I do. Straight to his lips. And get another long, slow, delicious kiss.
“Better?”
“Much better.”
Kissed so many boys.
4am.
Katie is asleep and snoring lightly. I can’t sleep.
Every time I close my eyes, I keep reliving my kisses with Aiden.
I’m usually not this kind of girl. The kind of girl to think she’s in love with someone the second she meets them.
Yes, I know I say that I fell in love at first sight with Brooklyn but, the truth is, I was barely fifteen and didn’t know any better. What I had was a huge crush on him. The crush turned to love somewhere in the two years that we were friends. For someone that had traveled the world, my world got very small when I went to high school. Brooklyn always reminded me that there was more to life than the perfect outfit. He and Damian have always been very positive influences in my life.
And I know I told Cush that I loved him at my party. But he bought me boots! The. Perfect. Boots. And I maybe got a little caught up in the moment. Cush is sexy and sweet and it’s easy to let yourself get caught up in moments with him. I should know. I lost my virginity to him in one of those moments. And I miss him. I do.
But.
Aiden.
Aiden is nothing like Brooklyn. Nothing like Cush.
I don’t even really know him.
Yet I feel like I’ve known him forever.
Part of me—probably the part of me that likes to cry at cheesy romance movies—hopes it’s true. Hopes it was love at first sight. That something so amazing could really happen to me.
Then there’s the other part of me. The cynic. She thinks that I must be having some sort of emotional crisis from almost getting kidnapped and that’s what is causing me to think irrationally about him.
I mean, I have to be a little bit scarred from all this, don’t I?
But then there’s the part of me that wants to bolt open my window and sing love songs with the birds chirping outside.
But I also feel like I’m in mourning. Mourning that I ended things with B and that I confused the issue even more by sleeping with him before I left. There’s part of me that’s mourning what could have been with Cush. And there’s another part of me in mourning because I miss my family. Because I don’t know when I’ll get to see them again. About how I’m here all alone.
But.
Aiden.
No matter what my brain is telling me, my heart knows.
I decide to text Mom, hoping she’s still awake.
Me: How did you get Tom to fall in love with you? You said you knew instantly. Did he?
Mom: He knew it too. I could feel it.
Me: How do I make the God of all Hotties fall in love with me?
Mom: Isn’t it a little fast? It’s been a day.
Me: Yes, it’s too fast. But I cannot help it. I am in LOVE with this boy. And all he will do is kiss me! And I’m talking a NO TONGUE KISS!!! Other boys make out with me, why won’t he?
Mom: Other boys?! Just how many boys have you kissed?
Me: Uh, like three.
Mom: !!!!!!!!! You don’t want to get a bad reputation your first week! Why have you kissed so many boys? Did you get drunk? What kind of place did we send you to?
Me: Calm down. And no. I kissed this boy, Dallas, the first night. It was like fun, and he’s sweet, but it’s like a friend thing, a chill thing. Then the god kissed me on the cheek and gave me a four-leaf clover and it WORKED! I made Varsity soccer AND the dance team! Oh and this gorgeous guy kissed me too, but he was drunk and it was gross, so it really doesn’t count. So two, technically.
Mom: Dance team? Really? I’m so proud of you!
Me: I got to dance on stage tonight, Mom. I loved it. Loved being up there. Back to the hottie.
Mom: You belong on a stage. You always have. And the god sounds sweet.