I think maybe I can talk to Aiden about this. He knows about the Keats quotes. Maybe he can give me some advice. “He quoted me Keats again the other night. Makes it hard to resist—”
Aiden’s gorgeous green eyes immediately darken. He looks pissed off and interrupts me. “Yeah, well, hey, I gotta go.”
Then he marches off.
Okay, WTF?!
First, he's telling me he likes me then he gets all pissed off again?
I want to yell back at him that I didn't do the four-leaf clover and the dances because I wanted to dance with him! That it was just a sacrifice I made.
That I was paying it forward!
Isn't that supposed to get you bonus points, karma-wise?
Oh, I hate him sometimes.
Because me + being nice to him = bad.
I’m the one who got the stupid detention because of him. And now he’s mad at me!?
And he never even let me finish my stupid sentence! I was going to say it makes it hard to resist because he’s been my friend for so long. I didn’t mean that I would ever get back together with him. We are never, ever getting back together. No freaking way. Ahhhhhhhh! I want to scream out loud.
What the hell. I’m already pissed off. I might was well call Brooklyn.
He answers.
“Got your text,” I say.
“I was up looking at the dawn, thinking how much I miss you,” he says.
And, even though he was a total asshole, I sigh because I know I’m about to forgive him.
“I miss the dawn. I miss the beach. I miss the way things used to be.”
“Damn, Keats, that was almost poetic.”
“Yeah, well, whatever.”
“Are you going to forgive me?”
“I might after I have someone kick your ass or something.”
“You don’t need to do that. Trust me, I’ve been beating myself up over it. My chi is way out of whack. My surfing sucks. My life is out of balance.”
Or not.
You’ve got to be freaking kidding me!
“Wait. You want me to forgive you so you can get your groove back?”
“Well, kinda.”
“So, you don’t feel at all bad about what you did?”
“Uh . . .”
“That’s why I won’t forgive you. It’s always all about you!”
I hang up, mad.
Oh, I hate boys.
Okay, not all boys, just two in particular. And then I think of the one boy that has been nothing but sweet to me. So I call him.
He answers in a hoarse, sleepy, you-just-woke-me-up voice.
“You sound like you’re still in bed.”
“I am. You done with detention?”
“Yes. How would you like some breakfast in bed?”
“I just want you in my bed, but food would be nice too.”
On the way to his room, I stop and grab three glazed donuts, a caramel latte for him, and a bottle of water for me.
When I open his door, I grin.
He looks so adorable when he’s just waking up. His dark hair is messy, and he hasn’t shaved since yesterday morning, so he’s got a five o’clock shadow. It looks so sexy on him. His hair is sorta smooshed up on one side, like you can tell exactly how he was lying when he was sleeping. Plus, he’s shirtless.
“Mhmmm, come here,” he says, pulling back his covers, and then covering us back up.
I snuggle up to his chest and think about going back to sleep, but I kiss his neck instead. Just soft little lazy kisses.
Well, they start out that way.
Then I kiss his neck with a little more intention. Up by his ear, around his earlobe, back down the side of his neck, then across his check, and to his waiting mouth.
The minute our lips meet, a wave of desire runs through my body.
Or maybe it’s because he’s got his hand between my legs now. I’m not sure. It’s sorta hard to focus on thoughts just now, because he’s quickly pulling off our clothes.
“You make me feel like a superhero, Keatie.”
“A superhero?” How?”
“In bed. I feel like I could fly, kick the Hulk’s ass, bust Superman’s chops, all before lunch.”
“Well, in bed, you are my superhero.” I giggle. “You make me feel sexy. It’s kinda addictive.”
“You’re addictive. I can’t get enough of you.”
Pretending it was your head.
2pm.
We crash for a while, me finally getting some much-needed sleep, then we get up and go work out. Dawson is lifting weights, while I rotate through a little exercise circuit, trying to concentrate and not just sit and drool watching his muscles flex. I will admit, I’m not working out all that hard. I’m mostly drooling.
Plus, I feel lazy today.
I go over to the punching bag, where I have a good view of Dawson’s muscles, and punch the bag a little. I slowly do some of the different kicks and moves Tommy’s trainer used to make us do.
Just as Dawson lies on a exercise ball and starts doing crunches, Aiden steps in front of me, blocking my drool-worthy view.
“I was punching that earlier. Pretending it was your head,” he says, pointing to the bag.
“You need to grow up. Figure out what you want before you go telling girls you like them, then two seconds later deciding you don’t and walking away. It’s no wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.” I maybe, kinda snarl a little.
Not because I care. But he is blocking my view.
“I could get a girlfriend like that,” he says, snapping his fingers.
“Why don’t you then?”
He shrugs and lowers his voice. “I’m not sure.”
“Yeah, well, good luck with that.”
Dawson walks up to me, sweaty, but grinning. He sees Aiden, of course, and I think pumping iron maybe got his testosterone flowing because all of a sudden he is very into me.
He ignores Aiden and smacks my butt. “Come on, baby. Time to get you back in bed.”
One: he never calls me baby.
Two: he never so blatantly lets people know we’ve been in bed.
Three: he never so blatantly suggests we are going to go do things in bed.
Four: like, not even in front of his friends.
Five: like, his friends assume things, but they don’t know, because he hasn’t told them.
Six: and to say it to Aiden, of all people, who’s already punching my head, theoretically. If I’m not careful, he may make a voodoo doll of me, and I will be going around doing normal stuff and, like, stop in pain, or start doing weird kicks in dance. He could make my life miserable if the voodoo doll worked.
And, although on the inside, I am mortified by all this, apparently on the surface, I find his smack and “baby” adorable.
I grab his waist and giggle. “Already? Again?” And drag him away from the god.
And even though mere hours ago I was chewing Brooklyn out about his inner chi being screwed up, I realize I am heading on the same downward spiral when I turn around and glance back at Aiden.
And the look I get back—let’s just say it’s a really good thing I’m inside because that look has the power to rain god-like bolts of lightning straight down on me.
All he does is piss me off.
3pm
Dawson and I don’t go back to his room. He drops me off at my dorm, tells me to shower and get ready because he’s taking me out.
My phone rings while I’m sitting on my bed, my hair still wrapped up in a towel.
“Hey, Mom!”
“How are you? I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.”
“I know. I’ve talked to and texted Tommy a few times.”
“Yeah, what’s that about? I thought you came to me for advice.”
“Well, Tommy says since he’s a boy, he knows what boys think.”
“How’s his advice been so far?”
“It’s hard to tell.”
“So, how’s Gorgeous?”
“He’s really, really good. I know I shouldn’t have slept with him so soon. It was really stupid of me. I also want you to know I am not sleeping with another boy until I am very in love with him. Or engaged or something. But he was just so damn sweet. And hot. And I was really upset about B. And he doesn’t do anything that pisses me off.”
“And the god?”
“All he does is piss me off.”
“Well, it sounds like you’ve made the right choice then. So, I called because I wanted to hear your voice, and, well, to tell you something.”
“Are you pregnant again?”