Текст книги "Date Me"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Saturday, October 8th

A rich history.

11am.

At the Women’s Tea, Peyton and I are bored to tears, so we start contemplating our escape.

“Let’s go find the boys at the golf tournament,” I suggest.

Whitney walks up to me. She had been sitting at a table with her mother and sister, along with Rachel’s family. “Keatyn, may I speak to you for a moment?”

“Um, sure, what's up?”

“Jake is throwing a bit of a fit. He wants to spend part of Homecoming with his friends. Rachel is going to the dance with Bryce and the other girls have respectable dates, but he’s insisting that he wants to be with Dawson. They've gone to every Homecoming together.”

“Yeah, they told me that.”

She gives me a cool smile. “He also says that I should give you a chance.”

“Jake seems to take friendship seriously.”

“He does. So I'm compromising. It's obviously going to be a bit awkward, since Dawson and I have such a rich history. I'm sure that must bother you.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Not really. We have a very different relationship than what you had."

“How would you even know what we had?” she snarls. Her true bitchy self coming back out.

“Because he told me about it. Before we dated, we were friends. We were both hurting from breakups and that’s sort of how we bonded, I guess.”

“And what makes him different now?” She doesn’t have the bitchy look anymore and I can tell that she sincerely wants to know how Dawson has changed.

“Probably his time spent trying to make you mad. He’s more experienced now, in lots of ways.”

There’s a little wrinkle between her eyes. She quickly puts on a happy face and says, “Well, I’d like you and Dawson to sit with us at dinner.”

“Oh. That we can’t do. But Dawson got us a limo. We’re going to the hotel to change and then to the after-party. Jake thought it would be fun if we went together. Partied a little.”

“Will there be champagne?”

“I’d say that's a given.”

She shakes her head. “I think I’ll need it.”

I can tell she can’t believe she’s agreeing to it. I’m not sure if she’s doing it because she actually likes Jake or if she’s afraid he’ll dump her if she doesn’t.

I give her a big smile. “Who knows, Whitney, we might actually have fun.”

Peyton tells her mom that we have to head out to take care of some last minute details for Social Committee.

She takes me to a golf cart that all of the Senior Prefects have for the weekend to ferry people around. We hop in and ride down to the school’s nine-hole golf course.

On the way, I ask about Aiden. “So who’s your brother taking to the dance?”

“He doesn’t have a date.”

“Really, why not?”

She shrugs. “I’m not sure. He always has a date. I asked him about it and got some vague response. He and Logan are going stag. But lots of girls are going stag too, so they’ll have plenty of fun.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m sure they will.”

We pull up to the golf shack and find Camden with his arm wrapped around a leggy brunette.

“Ugh,” Peyton says. “That’s Samantha. She’s why Cam and I broke up in the first place. I hate Homecoming week. I can’t wait to get the hell out of here and go to college.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“My parents want us both to go to Yale, but I’m hoping to get into Stanford.”

“Really? I’d love to go the either Stanford or Pepperdine. But I like it here too. I think Yale would be cool. Dawson wants to go to Columbia.”

“So he can party with Cam?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Have you two talked about that? Like, what you’ll do if you’re still together then?”

I shake my head. “No. We’ve only been together for a week. College is the last thing on my mind.” Really, I’m just praying I stay alive long enough to be able to choose a college.

“Watch this,” she says as she hops off the cart.

She walks straight up to Camden and slides her arms around his waist. Clearly staking out her territory.

“S’up, girls?” Cam says and gives Peyton a kiss.

Score one for Peyton.

The Samantha chick says, “Cam, you didn’t tell me you were here with Peyton.”

Cam fires back, “You didn’t ask.”

“Who are you here with?” Peyton asks her politely.

“Oh, um, just my parents.”

“Cool,” she says with a smirk. Then she tugs cutely on Cam’s shirt, sliding her hands underneath it. “Come have some beer with me and Keatyn.”

He eyes me. “That’s actually a good idea. Keatyn, you and I need to talk.”

“Oh, do we?” I say.

“See ya, Sam,” he calls out as he puts one arm around me and the other around Peyton and leads us to the beer garden.

“I can’t be seen drinking a beer here!” Peyton tells Cam.

“Oh, live a little. Fine. I’ll get you a soda. Then we’ll spike it. What about you, missy?” he asks me.

“I’ll have a beer.” Peyton gives me a little scowl. “What? I’m not a Prefect.” As Cam sets a red cup in front of me, I ask, “Where’s Dawson?”

“Out golfing with Dad and Braxton. Riley left to sneak Ariela out of the tea.”

I grin. “They are so cute together.”

Cam rolls his eyes.

“What?” Peyton asks. “You don’t think they’re cute together?”

“He’s stranded on second base.”

“Yeah, and he’s happy there. So don’t give him any shit about it.”

“What’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah, you come here a nobody and now you’re Miss Popularity.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not Miss Popularity at all.”

“So why Dawson then?”

“First off, I’m not like Whitney. Dawson and I ended up together because we had something in common and we got to be friends.”

“Really?” Peyton says.

“Yeah. I hated him when I first met him. He was a jerk to Riley. Slung his arm around me and said Riley was a cheap imitation of the real thing.”

Cam busts out in laughter. “Oh, that’s classic. What a great line.”

“No! It’s a horrible line. I thought he was a jerk. Then he gave me the worst kiss ever.”

“My brother gave a bad kiss? Damn, he’s going to ruin our reputation.”

“Yeah, well, he’s made up for it.”

“So I hear,” Cam says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t worry. He won’t tell me anything. But he’s too freaking happy for it not to be amazing. So, I guess I’ll let you stay.”

I laugh. “Gee, thanks. I’m so honored.”

He clinks my glass and looks at me seriously. “You should be.”

After a couple beers, Dawson, Braxton, and “Daddy” Johnson come off the course. Peyton told me that all the girls call Mr. Johnson “Daddy Johnson” because he’s really good looking.

I will admit the four of them all together do make a pretty nice picture. All dark hair, dark eyes, muscles, and cocky attitudes.

Braxton rushes over to us, clearly trying to win some kind of race. He sits on my lap and says, “Baby, we need to talk.”

I can’t help but laugh at him. “And what do we need to talk about? The fact that you’re small enough to sit on my lap?”

Camden says with a snort, “If Riley was the cheap imitation of the real thing, then Brax is the pocket-sized version.”

Braxton hops off my lap and says proudly, “Ain’t nothing about a Johnson that’s small.”

Camden high-fives him just as Dawson and Mr. Johnson join us.

“Is he bragging about winning already?” Mr. Johnson asks. “Because you should know he’s a cheater.”

“I didn’t make up the silly scramble rules. And Dawson has obviously been spending too much time with this one.” He tilts his head in my direction. “And not enough time on the course.”

Dawson sits down next to me and gives me a sweet kiss. “At least I have something better to do than chase my own balls around.”

Braxton does a little huff and folds his arms across his chest. He’s ready to spout off a comeback.

Probably a dirty one, because his dad says, “Don’t even say it, Braxton. You need to mind your manners in front of the ladies.”

“Did you decide to ditch the tea?” Dawson asks.

“Yeah, it was really boring,” Peyton replies. “So I made Keatyn sneak out with me.”

The boys all talk about their golfing. The best shots. What little contests they think they might win. I’m listening to their conversation when I catch Braxton typing into my phone.

I grab it from him. “What are you doing?”

“Putting myself in as a contact. You need to text me tonight with the party info. My brothers tell me nothing is going on after curfew tonight. But I don’t believe them.”

“Everyone is going to the after-party. At least everyone I know.”

“Can you get me in? I’m a good dancer.” He stands up and does a couple dance moves.

“I wish I could. The security for the event is really tight. It’s the first time the school has allowed something like this, so each student has to show their student ID to get their wristband. You have to have the wristband to get on the bus and into the event.”

I can tell Braxton’s brain is in motion. “So I just need to get a school ID and a wristband and I’m in? That should be easy.”

“Don’t you dare, Braxton,” his dad says. “We don’t need you getting kicked out before you ever get in. You want to come here next year, don’t you?”

He hangs his head in defeat. “Yeah.”

“Then behave.”

He raises his head and smiles. “Can I have beer instead?”

His dad and brothers just roll their eyes and continue their conversation. Braxton sends me a text.

Braxton F*cking Johnson: You need to hook me up with a wristband. I know you set up the security. Dawson was bragging about it. He was bragging about some other things too.

Me: Dawson never brags about other things and, sorry, but no.

I change his name to something a little more normal.

Braxton: My life sucks. I’ve been here for three days and haven’t got laid.

Me: You’re a little young for that, I think.

Braxton: I’m not. I’m ready. I’m SO ready. Hook me up. There was a party last night and you didn’t invite me. I was hurt.

Me: I didn’t go to a party last night. Neither did Dawson.

Braxton: I know that Riley snuck out.

Shit. How does he know that?

Me: Where did you hear that?

Braxton: Dallas.

Me: Probably went to see Ariela.

Braxton: Nope. I asked.

Me: I don’t know then.

Braxton: He calls you baby. He doesn’t call his girlfriend, baby. What’s up with you two?

Me: He’s my friend. Tell you what. You’re coming back for the Prospective Student weekend, right?

Braxton: Hell, yeah, I am.

Me: Be a good boy and don’t get in trouble for Homecoming and I’ll take you to a party then.

Braxton: You swear?

Me: No, I’d say that you’re the one who does all the swearing.

Braxton: Fucking right, I am.

“I have to go,” I say, checking the time on my phone.

“I’ll walk you,” Dawson says.

“You’ll what her?” Braxton says really loudly.

“WALK,” their dad says to Braxton. “Get your mind out of the gutter, son.”

As we walk away, Dawson is laughing. “I like my brother’s idea better.”

“Really? I never would have guessed that,” I say with a smirk. “You want me to look good tonight, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then I need to go get my nails done.”

“I have a few things errands I need to run myself.”

“What kind of errands?”

“Champagne kinds of errands.”

“Yum.”

When we get to my dorm, he gives me a steamy kiss and says goodbye.

I go into my room, grab my handbag and keys, then text Annie, Maggie, and Katie.

Me: Ready to head to the salon?

Annie: Still at the boring tea. Where are you?

Me: Coming to rescue you. I’ll pull my car up. You run out. LOL It’s okay to leave for our appointments. We have to look beautiful for tonight.

As I walk to my car, I’m suddenly very aware that there are a lot of people milling about that I don’t know.

Riley’s words about how it would be the perfect time to sneak on campus start running through my mind. I feel very paranoid as I walk to my car.

Twice, I see someone with Vincent’s build and hair color and have a momentary freak out.

When I get close to my car, I carefully look behind me and around me.

I peek under my car and then walk along it, making sure no one is hiding in the cargo area. Then I hit the unlock button, jump quickly into the car, and lock it back up.

I’m probably just being silly, because I really do feel safe here.

Didn’t Garrett tell me to listen to my gut? And to that little voice inside my head that lets me know when I’m in danger?

I take a deep breath and clear my head.

I don’t feel danger, so I start my car and go pick up the girls.

Not the jealous type.

8:30pm

After dinner, the walls on each side of the banquet hall are slid open to reveal the dance floor.

I enjoy being appropriately held in Dawson’s arms all night. It’s strange being in his arms for such a long period of time without attacking each other.

Although it doesn’t stop him from whispering all the things he’d like to be doing right now.

Or what he wants to do later.

Or trying to talk me into a quick visit to his dorm, or the bathroom.

Or anywhere, really.

At a little before eleven, the Homecoming Court is assembled for our procession and then the announcement of the King and Queen.

We walk to the middle of the stage when our names are called and then line up on the stage.

The Dean thanks the Homecoming Court and gives a short speech about exemplary students, all aimed at the alumni and parents as opposed to the students.

Then he opens an envelope and says, “And this year’s Homecoming King is Dawson Johnson!”

I let out a somewhat dignified whoop as the crowd cheers.

Last year’s Homecoming Queen, the leggy Samantha that Camden was flirting with at the golf tournament, walks across the stage, places a crown on Dawson’s head, and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

The dean is handed another envelope and slowly opens it.

He smiles and says, “And this year’s Homecoming Queen is Peyton Arrington!”

Peyton gets teary-eyed and walks to the center of the stage. Dawson holds out his elbow for her and they smile for the flashing cameras. Camden, who I didn’t realize was last year’s King, walks out onto the stage, grabs Peyton, and dips her back for a sexy kiss on the lips.

All the students hoot and whistle.

He pulls her back upright then places a tiara on her head.

I think ahead to next year. How cool it would be to have Dawson come back, place a crown on my head, and dip me back and kiss me?

I look out into the crowd and realize that I survived the dance. The dance was really the part I was most worried about. It felt a lot like my birthday party. People all around.

I tried to act normal, but I stuck as close to Dawson as I could.

I catch him smiling at me. He looks so handsome. He’s wearing a soft tan dress shirt that is just slightly darker than the nude color under my dress, a black suit with a tan pinstripe, a black tie, and shiny black wingtips.

I watch the assistant dean place a bouquet of red and yellow roses in Peyton’s arms.

Peyton beams and her smile lights up the stage.

But another brightness catches my eye. Aiden is smiling at his sister. I can tell he’s so proud. And he looks extremely handsome standing there. He’s wearing a grey Armani suit, the palest of blue shirts, an artistic gray and blue striped tie, and by far the coolest shoes of the night. I had seen them earlier and hadn’t noticed. They just looked like basic black Prada dress shoes, but up here in the bright light you can see the perforated pattern on them and the bright blue undertones.

He catches me looking at him and gives me a little wink. At least, I think he’s winking at me. There’s no one behind me and I don’t think he was winking at Ariela or Maggie, who are standing beside me. I give him a little smile back.

Music starts playing again and Dawson and Peyton descend from the stage for the Royal Dance.

I glance at Whitney. There’s no mistaking the venom in her glare.

She’s pissed.

Pissed she isn’t out there dancing with Dawson.

Pissed her perfectly scripted life hasn’t gone according to plan.

About halfway through the dance, Dawson and Peyton break apart. Dawson dances with his mom and Peyton with her dad.

I picture myself dancing like that with Tommy.

But if I danced with Tommy, that would mean the truth about who I am would have to come out.

Vincent would have to be in jail.

And if he was, would I come back?

Would everyone hate me for lying?

Or would I go back to my old school?

My old life?

Everyone claps, breaking me out of my reverie, and indicating the end of the song.

Dawson comes up to the stage and holds his hand out to help me descend the stage.

I’m happily swaying in his arms when Whitney says, “May I cut in? For old time’s sake?”

Jake holds out his arm to me, so I politely let her dance with Dawson.

Dawson looks stiff, but she looks happy.

She doesn’t look like a scheming bitch when she dances with him.

And, while I’m not the jealous type, I’m practically giddy when Dawson ends their dance halfway through and takes me back in his arms.

Like a red Solo cup.

11:15pm

Dawson and I walk down to the dorms, so we can pick up our bags to take to the hotel. Then we stop off at the student center, show our school IDs, and get our wristbands.

The school was really concerned about students inviting friends to come to the event, so, for liability reasons, we had to devise a way to make sure the party stayed closed.

The rule is: no wristband = no entrance. No exceptions.

Whitney and Jake meet us at the limo. Jake gives me a hug and whispers, “Thank you. But, beware: she’s in a pissy mood after not winning.”

Dawson had taken his crown off and put it on me at the dance. I realize I’m still wearing it, so I pull it off my head and tuck it into Dawson's duffle bag. I don’t want to make her feel worse.

“Champagne is in order, I think,” I say to Jake.

He opens one of the bottles he brought along and pours some in a flute for Whitney.

She doesn't even bother to wait for a toast. She just drains it.

Jake refills her glass and then grabs another flute.

“Oh, here,” I say to Jake and hand him two red Solo cups. “Put ours in here.”

“Very classy,” Whitney sneers.

“It has nothing to do with class, Whitney. I’ll never drink out of limo glasses. They don't wash them. Just sort of Windex them off between uses. Way to many germs for me. Besides, nothing says party like a red Solo cup.”

“Maybe your kind of parties.”

“Yes, my kind of parties. Shots. Dancing on the bar. You know, fun stuff.”

Jake asks Dawson for a red cup, fills his glass, and toasts, “No more parents. No more alums. Watch out club. Here we come."

“Whooh!” I yell, and take a sip.

Dawson pulls me into his arms. “Are you going to dance on the bar tonight? That sounds hot.”

“Definitely.”

Dawson is all over me in the limo.

"I can't wait to help take this off,” he says, touching the bow on my shoulder.

Jake puts his arm around Whitney and as hard as she’s trying to pretend things are perfect, she looks like she's ready to cry.

And I'm sure it doesn't help that I'm sitting here getting mauled by her King.

I grab Dawson's hand and place it on my thigh, keeping my hand firmly on top of it.

Jake says, “So, tell us about the after-party.”

“Although, at first, I wasn't supportive of the idea,” Whitney admits. “After spending the last three days with my family, I'm very much looking very forward to cutting loose.”

Jake grins and promptly refills her flute. She chugs it and then leans into Jake, clearly a little more relaxed.

When we get to the hotel, Jake asks Whitney, “How long do you need to change?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes.”

Jake says to us, “Okay, so we’ll meet back here at 11:45.”

As we walk into the lobby, Dawson puts a shoulder into Jake’s. “I’m gonna need a little more time than that. Let’s shoot for 12:30.”

“But the party starts a midnight,” Whitney pouts.

Dawson shrugs his shoulder. “The party won't start until we get there. That's how it's always been."

Whitney beams at him.

As we walk to our room, I say to Dawson, “You gave Whitney a nice compliment.”

“Yeah, Jake hasn't quite learned how to deal with her yet.”

“But you know,” I say, not quite able to conceal the hurt in my voice.

He rolls his eyes at me. "We dated for a long time. She needs her ego stroked. Always has. That's why she and Jake won't work long term. He's too stubborn."

My stomach drops. Does he want her back? Does he want to stroke her ego?

He continues. “I’m so glad you're not like that. And, besides, it was worth it. I’m going to need every bit of that hour with you.”

“Oh really, why?”

He opens the door to our room and says, “This is why.”

He barely gets the door shut before he's got me pinned against it and is untying the bow at my shoulder.

The front of the dress falls down to reveal my nude-colored strapless bra.

“This needs to go,” he says, unhooking it and flinging it on the floor. I push his suit jacket off his shoulders as he bends down to kiss my chest. He tries to push the rest of the dress down off my hips, but it’s very fitted and has a zipper.

“There's a zipper,” I moan as he sucks his way across my chest.

He fumbles with the zipper, gets it undone, and pushes it and my panties to the floor.

He picks me up and carries me to the couch, quickly undoing his own zipper.

"God, that dress has been driving me crazy.”

Then he’s moving like we have two minutes instead of an hour.

I throw on a hotel robe, carefully darken my eye makeup, and add more blush. Then I hide in the bathroom and get dressed for the after-party. I want to surprise him with the full look.

I walk out into the living room. Dawson has changed into a pair of dark jeans, leather loafers, and a black shirt with silver stripes. He looks so incredibly hot.

“Whoa,” he says, grabbing my hands and taking in my metallic crepe strapless dress. “Now that’s a dress. What there is of it.”

He smacks my ass and tells me we better get downstairs.

Whitney and Jake are waiting in the lobby. Whitney looks perfect, not a strand of hair out of place. Completely different from the messy pony I'm wearing. But when you dance, you sweat, and there's nothing attractive about wet hair.

Whitney's club clothes, well, they aren't really club clothes. She's wearing a simple red silk dress with a black cardigan over it. She looks like she should be going to brunch at the country club.

I grab her hand, drag her back to the elevator, and tell them we’ll be back in five minutes.

“Let go of me,” she says.

I smile. “Nope, it's time for you to embrace your inner slut.”

“I don't want to look like a slut.”

“You're going to a crazy club, not the country club. You definitely want to look a little slutty.”

I pull her into our hotel suite. Of course, she takes in the articles of clothing strewn about.

“You ever think about cleaning up after yourself?”

I ignore her comment and lead her to a barstool. I pour her a glass of champagne from the bottle we didn't finish. “Drink. Don’t move.”

“You know, you’re kind of bossy.”

I grab my makeup bag and plop it into the counter.

“You have gorgeous eyes. We’re going to play them up a little.” I do up her eyes, starting with a white sparkly color in the corners, going to a deep rose in the middle and ending in an intense charcoal. I smudge a little of the charcoal under the bottom outer edges then add a thick swoop of a charcoal liquid liner with flecks of silver glitter. Then I find my reddest lip stain, carefully brush it onto her lips, and add some High Beam gloss.

“Okay, take off the cardigan.”

She takes off the cardigan to reveal the simple red dress and a pair of sparkly silver pumps. I grab my bag, which still has the black leather skirt I wore the other night in it. After our time at the lake, I just had thrown the little PJ shorts back on.

I’m trying to figure out what she’s going to wear for a top, when I spy a pair of scissors.

“Here, try this on,” I say, handing her the leather skirt.

She looks at the skirt like it’s a piece of trash. “Just because we want to look slutty doesn't mean we have to be cheap.”

I flash the Saint Laurent label at her.

She tilts her head, studying me and the skirt. Like she’s trying to decide if she should go for it or not. Finally, she takes it and slips it on under her dress. She holds the dress up and looks in the mirror. Then she spins around, scrutinizing the back. “My ass looks amazing in this skirt.”

“It does. And watch this.” I bend down and unzip the zipper that runs up the front middle of the skirt, giving her a nice slit leading straight to her crotch.

She studies her eyes in the mirror. “I can't believe I'm saying this, but I love what you did to my eyes.”

“Good, cuz you may freak about what I’m about to do next.” I hold up the scissors. “May I?”

She looks down at her dress, which I want to turn into a top.

She grabs the bottle of champagne, takes a big swig, and says, “What the hell.”

I carefully cut from the hem of the dress straight up to her bellybutton. Then I cut around the waistband of the skirt so that the new top will just graze it. When she puts her arms up to dance, her flat stomach will be nicely exposed.

She hands me the bottle and says, “Take a drink.”

I take a sip while she looks at herself in the mirror.

“Let’s go shorter.”

I cut up an inch higher all the way around. “You look hot,” I tell her.

“And you . . . I still hate you, but maybe not as much as I used to.”

I smile, knowing that’s a compliment.

“Come on, let’s go knock Jake’s socks off.”

Jake’s response is more than expected and he’s all over her in the limo.

When we get to the club, I’m shocked to see that the dance floor isn’t packed yet.

I grab Whitney, round up Peyton and Maggie, and lead them up to the center stage.

“Girls, it's time to get this party started.”

Whitney gets a panicked look in her eye. I know she's not a great dancer.

“Don't worry,” I tell her. “Just move a little and let your hands glide across the other girls’ bodies. Drives the guys crazy.”

The DJ sees us coming up to dance and cranks up one of my favorite songs.

I grab Maggie and grind up against her. Peyton does the same to Whitney and pretty soon we're in a line, butt to butt, and lost in the music.

I lose track of how many songs we dance to but when I look out, I’m excited to see that the dance floor is now packed.

I see Katie, yell at her, hold my hand out, and pull her up onto the platform. Dallas takes my hand as I climb down. He’s already hypnotized by Katie’s boobs bouncing up and down in her teeny top.

I find Dawson and Jake and pull them both onto the dance floor.

“Jake, go get Whitney.”

He laughs and says, “I’m just enjoying the show.”

Dawson pulls me close and runs his hands all over me. We dance for at least an hour before Dawson says he needs some water. “That champagne gave me a headache. They serving food?”

“Yeah, there's snacks upstairs. Want to get something?”

“Definitely.”

We go upstairs and find Aiden, Nick, and Logan chowing down. It's a little quieter up here. There's a balcony that's probably packed on a regular night, but our school isn't big enough for that. So this is a great spot to sit and watch everyone dance below.

“You go get food. I’ll get water,” Dawson says.

I’m waiting in the short food line when Aiden gets in line behind me.

“Hey,” I say to him. “Are you guys having fun?”

“We were having fun watching you dance on the stage. Although some of the things they were saying about my sister were a bit inappropriate.”

“Do you like watching girls grind on each other?”

“I like it better when we grind on each other. Don't forget you promised me a dance.”

“I won’t.”

“Great shoes by the way.”

“You noticed my shoes?”

“Yeah. The stones on the heels were catching the light when you were dancing. It looked really cool. Peyton asked me to take some pictures. Wanna see?”

He holds up his phone and scrolls to a picture of us dancing. There is light dancing all around my feet.

“Oh, that is cool. Will you send me that?”

“Sure. So did you do that to Whitney?”

I laugh. “Yeah. She got the Barbie Goes Clubbing makeover.”

“I’m surprised.”

“That I'm nice to people?”

“That you're nice to her after what she did to you.”

“Honestly, I mostly did it for Jake. He's my friend. And if that means Whitney won't hate me as much, all the better.”

“Just when I thought I had you all figured out, you surprise me again.”

I load up a plate with bacon and other breakfast foods.

“Was it a good surprise?”

His eyes bore into mine.

He nods, then smiles and steals a piece of bacon off my plate, popping it into his mouth. “This is good. We did good with the party, don’t you think?”

I look around. “Yeah, Aiden, we did good.”

I finish filling our plates with some fruit, a couple muffins, fried hashbrown patties, and French toast sticks. I don’t even think about the calories. I know I’ll burn them off dancing.

Dawson laughs about how much I eat of the kind of junk food I usually avoid.

“We're gonna burn it off dancing.”

He pulls my hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it. “I can think of some funner ways for us to burn calories.”

The party starts out fun, but as the night rolls on, the drama grows.

We take a break from dancing and Whitney runs to the restroom.

She comes marching back out with a pissed look on her face. Rachel and the minions are behind her and they all look to be in tears.

“Those backstabbing bitches,” she rants. “They all practically jumped me in the bathroom and bitched me out for dancing with you. For coming in the limo with you.”

“Well, I am practically your sworn enemy. You’ve confused them. They don’t know who the hell to like.”

Whitney breaks out in laughter. “They couldn’t find their ways out of a paper bag without me.”

“I don’t know what you said to them, but they’re all crying.”

“They’re all drunk. Which is something I am not.” She reaches in Jake’s pocket, grabs his flask, and drinks whatever was left.

Then she looks at Dawson. He takes the flask out of his pocket and hands it to her. The three of them do multiple shots.

Once it’s finished, Jake and Dawson go on a hunt for more alcohol.

I sip on my water for a few minutes and then go back out to dance.

Maggie is dancing with Parker, Nick, Logan, and Aiden, so I join them. Hard to believe that two of the hottest guys at school don’t have dates.

Aiden tells me it’s time for our dance and pulls me into his arms.

I pull out of his arms and dance with a more respectable distance between us but, really, we’re all sort of grinding on each other.

For the first time all night, they play a slow song. Aiden pushes his leg between mine and moves his hips against me. I feel the fog in my brain start to collect. Like it always does when I’m near him.

But, no.

I can’t.

“I told you, I can't dance with you like that anymore.”

He grins at me. “Can't blame a guy for trying.”