Текст книги "Kiss Me"

Me:  I’ll be right there, baby.

Me:  Bahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!

Hottie God:  You’ll be sad when I’m dead.

Me:  Doubtful, I’ll have more free time. Actually, I do have something I want to talk to you about, if you promise to be nice. Five minutes in your room?

Hottie God:  I’ll be there :)

I go kiss Dawson for about six minutes straight and try to keep him from attacking me for the millionth time this weekend.

Not that I minded at all. This weekend was amazing. It really was.

I say goodbye then run up to Aiden’s room and knock on the door.

“Entrer,” he says, using the French word for enter. “So, I turned on the twinkle lights just for you. Just getting ready to start the iPod. I think you owe me something like ten dances.”

“If you’ll do something for me, I’ll give you your dances.”

He’s taken aback by my agreement. “Uh, sure, what?”

“Look, I’m being nice to you and spending an awful lot of time helping you with French. In return for that, I got on what was supposed to be the very cool Social Committee.”

“And it’s not?”

“No. They meet at freaking seven am. Whitney is on it and she’s mean. And your sister isn’t nice to me when Whitney is around. So you have to get on it and team up with me. Or at least run interference.”

“You should get your boyfriend to do that for you.”

“He’s not my boyfriend and you know it.”

“Whatever, you’re with him. Obviously.”

“Whatever. I want you.”

His eyes sparkle at me and a little grin plays on his lips. “I knew you'd come around.”

“I don’t want you, want you. You seem to be one of the few people here that can hang out with them, be a part of their group, but yet, you’re not a part of it. How do you do that? How are you popular without being with them?”

“Because I don’t want it.”

“I don’t want it either. So why does she hate me so much?”

“All you have to do is look at yourself in the mirror to answer that question.”

“She hates the way I look?”

Aiden chuckles and pulls me onto the bed to sit with him. “I’m a guy. I’m not a threat to her. You’re pretty, Boots. Pretty, smart, and you have this, this, way about you. This casual friendliness that people are drawn to. And you seem to be very comfortable in the spotlight.”

“Are you comfortable in the spotlight?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve heard you are a really good soccer player. Usually really good athletes have to comfortable in the spotlight. It sort of comes with the job.”

“I’m not a cocky jerk on the field, but I am a good goalie.”

“From what I’ve heard, good is an understatement.”

He smiles. He has the prettiest smile I have ever seen. Even his teeth are perfect.

“I’d say I’m confident in my abilities.”

“Do you get nervous? Like, stage fright kind of thing? Ever choked in a big game?”

“Not since I was about ten. I played up an age group in the Fourteen and Under League. The guys were a lot bigger than me. I lost a game because I got distracted and missed the ball. I’ve never let it happen again.”

“You’ve never been scored on since?”

A smirk plays on his lips and his eyes twinkle.

I roll my eyes. “I don’t mean that kind of scoring. I already heard about your man whore ways last year. I’m still talking about soccer.”

“I have been scored on a total of eleven times since then.”

“Eleven times in seven years. Those are pretty good stats. I’m impressed.”

“Good to know there’s at least one way I can impress you.”

“You can impress me by getting on Social Committee. And we were talking about how you are popular without being popular. You have everyone in your room all the time. I don’t get it.”

He hangs his head down a little. “Maybe I like to party.”

“You don't seem like you do.”

“Fine. I got roped into it.”

“Wait. You’re doing something for them that you didn’t want to do. Why?”

“I do it for my sister. I'm trying to keep her out of trouble.”

I repeat the words he said to me in class one day. “And here I thought you were different.”

“Shut up,” he says, but he’s grinning at me.

I smile big and say in a singsong voice. “Aiden’s been drinking the Kool-Aid.”

He grabs my shoulders, which makes me feel like my body just turned to putty. “Fine. I'll get on the Social Committee.”

His hands are still touching me as he speaks. It’s hard for me to hear what he’s saying because he’s touching me.

I finally say, “We need to be a united front. I know if you’re there, your sister won’t pick on me.”

“My sister likes you. Why would she pick on you?”

“She’s nice to me at dance and at soccer, but when Whitney’s around she's not.”

Aiden shakes his head. “I don’t understand her sometimes.”

“I do, actually. I used to be her.”

“What?”

“Yep. At my old school. I don’t ever want to be popular again.”

“But you’re dating Dawson.”

“I’m hanging out with Dawson because he’s sweet. Not because he’s popular.”

Aiden leans back on his pillow and stares up at the twinkling lights. I lean back and look up at them too.

“So did you date the popular guy at your last school too?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So your Keats guy. He was the most popular?”

I start laughing so hard I swallow my spit the wrong way and have a choking fit. Aiden hands me the Gatorade he’s been drinking. “No. He wasn’t socially acceptable, according to my friend, who I swear is a Whitney clone.” I stop and snap my fingers. “That’s it.”

“What’s it?”

“Whitney. What does she have on your sister?”

“What do you mean?”

“The reason I never crossed my Whitney is because she knew something embarrassing about me and threatened to tell everyone. And it sorta would have ruined my reputation.”

He rolls over on his side and gives me a crooked smile. “What’d she have on you?”

“I’m not telling you!”

“Why not?”

“Because, it’s embarrassing. Duh!”

“Come on. It can’t be that bad.” He flashes his dazzling smile at me and slowly blinks his eyes. I’m pretty sure that’s how he triggers his mind control powers because I can’t bring myself to lie to him.

“Fine. She knew I was a virgin.”

“So?”

“So I was the only one, and I had a reputation as a party girl. I dated my perfect boyfriend for over a year. Everyone thought we were doing it, but we weren’t. She threatened to tell everyone that our relationship was a sham.”

“So, the Keats guy was your first?”

I shake my head. “No. There was one other guy.”

“Tell me about the Keats guy. You still talk to him.”

“I crushed on him for a couple years. He was like a whole new world compared to the people I was friends with at school. He liked surfing, smoking, dive bars, indie rock. When we went places it was casual, never really planned out. We got together this summer, he told me he loved me. Now, he doesn’t.”

“You told me in French he was stupid, but that’s all you said.”

“No. One embarrassing story is enough for tonight.”

“Tell me. Then I’ll tell you one.”

“You have an embarrassing story?”

“Yep.”

“Fine. So I went to see him. He was with another girl while I was there.”

“So, he sort of cheated on you?”

“No. We weren’t going out. Wait. Whose side are you on?”

“Yours. Always yours,” he says. “I’m just asking. He sounds like a jerk.”

“He does.”

“So, back to your friends. He wasn’t acceptable. So you fought against them?”

“Yeah, I tried to. I loved him.”

Aiden touches my finger with his. “You should love me,” he says sweetly.

But I laugh. I can’t love Aiden. Aiden could destroy me, and I can’t take any more destruction in my life. Before I can reply, he grins at me and says, “Actually, don’t. I don’t want to be the rebound. Dawson is obviously a rebound.”

I shake my head and roll my eyes at him. “No, he isn’t.”

He gets up off his bed, presses play on his phone, and holds out his hand. “Come on. You still owe me those dances.”

I stand up and he pulls me into his arms.

I close my eyes and breathe in his godly scent—warm musk mixed with an intoxicating bit of clove and possibly some golden glitter and fairy dust.

I barely hear the songs play. All I can think about is how Aiden’s hands are touching my lower back. About how close his cheek is to mine. I lean a little closer.

As was the case before, dancing with Aiden is practically otherworldly. As hot as sex is with Dawson, I can’t help but wonder how it would feel with Aiden. It’s as if the dance is just a preview of how amazing it could be. And as we’re standing here together, swaying slowly, I swear my heart jumps out of my chest, mates with his, and comes back to me.

WTF!?

Did I seriously just think that? My heart mated with his? Oh, baby Jesus, it is time for me to get out of here.

Is he burning some kind of incense? Did he put some hallucinogenic mushrooms in the Gatorade he let me have a sip of? What the hell is wrong with me?

I pull back just a little and break the spell.

Well, I break the spell until he smiles at me. He has his eyes closed when he first looks toward me, then he slowly opens them, offering me just slivers of dazzling green. When he sees me looking at him, his mouth—that-gods-be-damned-for-creating-it mouth—curls into a sweet grin.

“I love dancing with you,” he says.

“It is nice,” I say, like an idiot. Of all the words I could use to describe the way I feel when I’m dancing with him and all I can come up with is the word most overused by fourth graders?

He’s still holding me in his arms. And I really don’t want him to let go.

“It’s almost curfew; you better go,” is what he says, but he tightens his hold on me.

 I make myself blink. It seems to help fight his powers. Breaking the spell for a moment or something.

“Yeah,” I say, a little too breathlessly. But what I’m thinking is Kiss me. Please, Athena, Zeus, Apollo, whoever, make him kiss me.

Shit. How does he do that to me? It’s like he telepathically puts thoughts into my head.

I don’t want to kiss him. I like Dawson.

He leans in and gets as close to my lips as possible, without touching them. “Too bad you have a boyfriend, or I’d be kissing you now.”

I swallow hard.

Because I had momentarily stopped breathing, a pile of spit had collected in the back of my throat. It was either swallow or choke.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” As my lips move to speak the words, they just brush against Aiden’s, and the feeling is more electrifying than if I had actually kissed him.

I pull back, shocked.

“I really have to go,” I murmur, and then get the hell out of there and race to my dorm.

But I’m seven minutes late.

Which is like a half a second in god years, so you’d think it wouldn’t be held against me, but it is.

I now have seven minutes times three of detention.

Twenty-one minutes of detention.

Where I am supposed to sit and think about why I am there.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

Monday, September 12th

It’d be way hot.

Ceramics

Today I officially start campaigning for Student Council office. Annie, Katie, Maggie, and a slew of freshmen boys that I talked into helping us start hanging up signs at six this morning. Riley and Dallas refused to get up that early, but show up anyway, and are a big help. The school is plastered with Keatyn Monroe signs.

I have three things going for me. First, our signs turned out awesome! They are sparkly and full of school spirit! If you don’t know who you’re voting for, that’s okay! Vote for school spirit!

I hope.

Secondly, I have candy. The Milk Duds have been a big hit already. And Milk Duds are like the Holy Grail for those still in braces. Which is most of the freshman class, which happens to be the largest class in the school. And, since they are all new, like me, I figure they should be a big focus. This school does voting for Student Council different than my old school. Instead of each class voting for their class officers, the entire school votes for each grade’s representatives. The person with the most votes is the president of their class. The second is the vice president. And the third and fourth most votes are class representatives. So my goal is to get enough votes to at least make representative.

And, thirdly, if I do have a platform, it’s social events, which I would like to see more of.

So, during lunch, I’m going to hand out a bunch of candy, introduce myself, and ask for votes. I wore a really cute look today, one that I think looks respectable and responsible; preppy, but sweet. I’m wearing the longer navy pleated skirt. An Escada pale blue ruffle-front blouse. Simple gold jewelry. Navy blazer. Sweet little white socks. Navy Rag & Bone platform Mary Janes. Hair twisted up into a cute little bun.

But right before I walked into ceramics, Dawson pinned me up against a locker, told me I look like a naughty librarian, and could he please meet with me in private later about some long-overdue fines.

Now I’m worried about how I look. I want to ask Bryce and Jake about it and also about possibly doing something fun for Dawson to repay him for the bleachers, but Jake is too busy complaining.

“I can’t even get her to go down on me. She used her hand. We’ve been going out for two weeks and dating for three.”

“I heard she doesn’t do that.”

“She didn’t with Dawson either?”

“Um, I think only when she was, like, super drunk.”

“Time to get the girl super drunk, I think.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Bryce says.

“What is something a girl could do to you, possibly in public, that would make you really hot? Like, worship-her hot.”

Jake laughs. “So you wanna make Dawson worship you?”

I can feel my face get hot and know my cheeks are turning red. “Uh, maybe.”

“Road head. A girl does that to me, she goes way up in my book,” Jake says.

Bryce says, “True. But messing around somewhere that’s risky would be fun too.”

“Anywhere around school that feels risky, but isn’t really that risky?”

Jake considers that for a moment and scratches the side of his face. “I’ve always thought the private study rooms at the library. I tried to get a girl to do stuff with me once. We made out, but then she chickened out.”

“Any other thoughts?”

“I have dirty dreams about a girl coming in our locker room during halftime to help motivate me for the second half. She’s wearing nothing but a team jersey,” Bryce confesses. “But I think that would be impossible. What about the football field at night? The bleachers? Specifically, the lacrosse field bleachers. They’re the most private. And what about the cave?”

“Maybe.”

“Some people go in the cars that are parked at school. If it’s dark, no one would notice. Dawson has his car, but you have the back seat that folds down.”

“Have either of you ever done any of that? Or anything you thought was really hot?”

Bryce grins. “Football field, late, a few times, but the best was the bathrooms by the concession stands during a girl’s soccer game.”

Jake looks at him, shocked. “Who was that and when?”

“That Amanda chick who got kicked out and sent to rehab. It was fun, but she was kinda skanky.”

“So was the fact that she did you in the bathroom what made her skanky?”

“No, it was the fact that she did everyone in the bathroom that made her skanky.”

“So, Jake, if Whitney tried that on you would it be hot or skanky?”

They both agree. “It’d be way hot.”

Never putting my hair in a bun.

Lunch

Since Dawson already thinks I look like a naughty librarian, I decide to go with Jake’s suggestion of the private study rooms in the library.

I walk over to Riley and Dallas and give them some candy. “What do you think is better in reference to sexual stuff: getting completely surprised with it, or being surprised, but knowing a surprise is coming?”

“As long as you end up coming, what difference does it make?” Dallas quips.

“I’m serious.”

“Tell us your evil plan, mistress,” Riley says. “Hey, has anyone told you you kinda look like a hot librarian today?”

“What is it with you Johnson boys and librarians? All I know is I’m never putting my hair in a bun again! So? Answer my question. I’m running out of time.”

“I’d like to know the surprise is coming,” Dallas says.

“And I’d like to be completely surprised,” Riley says.

I know that Dawson likes to be surprised, but I also know he likes the anticipation just as much, so I walk over and whisper in his ear. “We do need to talk about your fines. You’ve been a very irresponsible boy. Meet me in the library at six.”

Then I keep working my way around the lunch room.

After lunch, Dawson is waiting for me outside. He looks me up and down and says, “You’ll totally get my vote. You look sexy, Keatie. Why six? That’s usually when we’re eating dinner.”

“Exactly, and I’m hoping the library is empty.”

“Oh, really,” he grins sexily. “Why’s that?”

“I already told you. You’ve been bad. So when you come to the library, you better be ready to pay your fines or offer me something in return.”

He grabs me around the waist and kisses me. “I’m so not going to be able to concentrate in class.”

Your lips are my what?

French

I sit down in French and tell Aiden, “I have twenty-one minutes of detention today after school because of you. Which means I will miss twenty-one minutes of dance, and your sister will yell at me.”

“It was worth it.” His eyes glitter at me.

“Which part?”

“Being late.”

“How so? You didn’t get in trouble.”

“No, but I learned some French on my own last night.” Dazzling smile.

Look away. Just look away from the light.

“Oh really? Let’s hear it.”

“Vos lèvres sont mon béatitude.”

“I don’t know what béatitude means.”

“Really, Miss I’m So Fluent in French?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

He smiles half a smile. “Looking forward to knowing how you feel about it. I also got on the committee.”

“Oh, wow, that was fast.”

“Well, if it means I get to spend time with you without your boyfriend around, it can’t be all bad. I don’t suppose you missed the kiss and he died?”

“No such luck.”

 I repeat what he said in my brain. Translating it. “So your lips are my . . . what?”

“Not telling.”

I raise my hand.

Miss Praline says, “Yes, Keatyn?”

“What does béatitude mean?”

“We can discuss that after class. We need to focus on today’s lesson. We have a lot to cover.”

I turn around quick and say to Aiden, “Aiden? Is it a bad word?”

“I doubt I would say a bad word about your lips.”

“Although it doesn’t really sound like a bad word. Isn’t that something religious? Oh, wait, I’ll look it up on my phone.” I pull my phone out of my bag and click on a French translator app. I’m frustrated that I can’t come up with a simple word.

Miss Praline says, “Keatyn, you know the rules. No phones during school.”

“I’m looking up a French word in French class. This is research.”

“Give me your phone,” she says, walking up to my desk with her hand held out.

“Merde,” I mutter, not quite under my breath.

“You just cursed in French, Miss Monroe. What’s wrong with you today? I’m taking your phone and giving you a thirty minute detention.”

This pisses me off.

“Seal,” I say.

“What?” Miss Praline asks.

I talk louder. I’m pissed. “I said seal.”

“Why?”

“What’s the French word for seal, Miss P?”

“Phoque.”

The class laughs.

I grin at her. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

Her face looks shocked at me, her perfect little French student. “Miss Monroe! Make that two thirty minute detentions!”

Aiden decides to get into the mix for some reason. He’s still laughing. “Wait, so the French word for seal is phoque? Like fuck?”

“Aiden! You’re in detention too!” Miss Praline yells.

He looks all innocent, but I know he’s doing this on purpose. He’s standing up for me. And it makes me want to kiss him.

“Why?” he says. “Surely you can’t give me a detention for speaking French in French class. That doesn’t make sense.”

She gives him the squintiest, maddest eyes she can make and says, “Thirty minutes, Aiden. Now, does anyone else want in today?”

I seriously don’t know what is up all my teachers’ butts today. I don’t know if they got yelled at this morning, or are hung over, or what, but they are all crabby and piling on the homework all at once. We already have that group project Riley and I have to do for History. In Math, we have fifty problems to do, plus a new book to read for English. I seriously do not have time for all this.

As we’re walking out of class, Aiden says, “So I guess we can do tutoring in detention?”

“Guess so.”

“See ya, Boots.”

In jail together.

3:15pm

I’m sitting in detention next to Aiden. He leans toward me and whispers, “So did you figure it out yet?”

He is dying for me to know what my lips are.

“No, I can’t get my phone back until after detention. I guess it’s in some kind of phone jail. I’m pissed. I was using it as an educational tool. It’s ridiculous. If I get on Student Council that will be my first issue.”

He hands me his phone. “Here, you can use mine.”

“You really want me to know what you said, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Your lips are my something, right?”

He says it again in French, and he can’t speak French worth a shit, but this he says beautifully, almost poetically.

I grab his phone, start to type into Google.

The detention teacher, who has been completely ignoring us up until this point, chooses this moment to look at me. “No phones during class time or detention. Give me your phone, Miss Monroe.”

“Um, first off, it’s not my phone, and secondly, he was letting me borrow it to look up a French word for class.”

“I don’t care. Rules are rules. Give it to me.”

“No offense, but this is bullshit. Aren’t we supposed to be able to do our homework in here, and isn’t technology part of our world?”

“You just earned yourself another thirty minutes, missy.”

I sigh as he takes Aiden’s phone from my hands.

Aiden grins at me. “You’re feisty today.” Then he laughs. “Our phones are in jail together.”

“Yeah, well, when you get out of here, you can go rescue them. I’ll be here until next week.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. You have to pay twenty dollars to get your phone out of jail. Twenty per phone. So you’re gonna owe me forty bucks. But maybe we can work out a deal where you can pay it off in dances.”

“I owe twenty, yes. But it’s your fault your phone got sent to jail. You wanted me to know what it was so bad. Why don’t you just tell me?”

“Well you’re supposed to try and be a little sneaky when you use it in class: hide it under your desk or something, not just hold it up and show the teacher you’re using it.”

“Shut up and do some homework. Oh, and write down your email for me. I want you to read what I sent Brad about ideas for the first themed weekend, so you’ll be prepared for the meeting in the morning.”

“I already had Brad forward me your email. But, you don’t have to pretend to want me involved. I know you just wanted me on the committee so you can hang out with me without your boyfriend around.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re so right. I’m dating a gorgeous senior who is crazy about me, and I’m trying to figure out ways to spend time with you.”

Happy endings.

6pm

When I go to get my phone out of jail, it has already closed. I am so pissed because now I won’t be able to get it out until tomorrow morning.

But when I get back to my dorm, it is lying on my bed surrounded by a whole bunch of little purple wrapped candies. Chocolate candies with the words Hershey’s Bliss on the front. I take one out and pop it in my mouth, letting the chocolate melt on my tongue. Yum.

Then I look at my phone, which has a bunch of texts from today. I reply to a few, touch up my makeup, put on some perfume, grab my speech notecards, and hurry to the library.

Dawson is sitting at a table, waiting for me.

I give him a head nod, then walk up to the librarian, and ask to sign in for one of the private study rooms.

She asks me, “Purpose of the room.”

I hold up my notecards and tell her to practice my speech for Student Council. She asks who will be in the room with me. I point to Dawson, and she narrows her eyes at me. I can tell she is wondering.

So I pretend to look around the library. “Hey, it’s not very busy in here, maybe when I’m done with him, you could listen to my speech too. Maybe give me some pointers.” Then I pour it on. “You know I’m new here, and I’m, like, really nervous about it. I can’t believe I got talked into running, so the more people I can get to listen to my speech the better. I’d really love some feedback from you on it.”

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 . . .”