Текст книги "Date Me"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

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Thursday, September 29th

Do I look guilty?

Lunch

When my alarm went off at 6:30, Dawson was gone. But when I got in the shower and shut the shower curtain, I noticed something on the top of my hand.

In black permanent marker, he drew a heart.

And I’ve been smiling at it all day long.

I’ve been smiling at my shoes too. I’d been saving these Prada two-tone black and red Mary Jane platform pumps for a worthy occasion. And a new relationship with sexy Dawson is just such occasion. I paired them with a black Burberry stretch silk cinched-waist blouse, my red cardigan, plaid skort, black over the knee socks with ribbon ties, and an adorable Longchamp furry red clutch.

I’m getting ready to walk into the cafe, when Peyton grabs my arm and says, “Oh my god. Why did you let me drink so much?”

“Why did you let yourself drink so much?”

She pulls me into the girls' bathroom, looks under all the stalls, and then leans against the counter with a thud.

“Jake and I hooked up.”

“Hooked up, hooked up? Or, like, made out hooked up?”

“We hooked up.” She throws her arms in the air. “In my brother's bed!”

“Eww. What if he had walked in?”

She grabs my shoulders and gets in my face. “What. If. Whitney. Finds. Out?”

“How would she? Jake’s not going to tell her. I’m certainly not gonna tell her. Dawson didn't see you kissing. What's up with you and Jake anyway? You seemed very familiar even before you got drunk.”

“We used to go out. It was a long time ago.”

“You're cute together," I say with a grin.

She buries her head in her hands and cries, “You don’t even understand. She knows things."

“Oh, I understand perfectly. But don't worry, I won't say anything. You have my word.”

“I just pray she doesn’t find out.”

“Don't act guilty then.”

She looks at herself in the mirror. “Do I look guilty?”

“Mostly, you look hung over but, yes, right now, you do. But that's probably because you're kind of freaking out.”

She runs her hand through her perfect long blonde waves and says, “Shit. I cannot let her find out but, at the same time, I would kind of like her to know. It just really pisses me off how she's prancing around with Jake and acting like them being Homecoming King and Queen is a given. Which is funny since this was always supposed to be her and Dawson's big year." She rolls her eyes. "The culmination of all her work."

"Her work?"

Peyton purses her lips. "I shouldn't have said that but, in a way, sleeping with Jake feels sort of freeing." She stops and laughs. "Plus, he is really fun. Maybe I should just tell her." She nervously bites on the edge of a manicured nail. "You know, she did that to me. Found out that my college boyfriend was cheating on me. Embarrassed me in class by passing around a photo of him kissing another girl."

I think about how I could help. What could she do that wouldn't be a direct challenge, but would still piss Whitney off?

I smile. "Maybe you should find a Homecoming date who is hotter than Jake."

Peyton narrows her eyes. "Who here is hotter than Jake?"

"I don't know," I say. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

We stand in line, grab a couple salads, and then sit at the table. Dawson and Riley walk over and set their trays down next to me.

Peyton's face lights up, and I half expect her to say Dawson is hotter and she'll take him.

She stands up quickly and throws her arms around my shoulders in a hug. “You're brilliant.”

"Why are you brilliant?" Dawson asks, just as Whitney sits down and scoffs, "Yes, why are you brilliant?"

"Because I helped a friend with a problem, I think."

Whitney sneers. "So brilliant that you don't even know. Classic." She turns her back on us and starts chatting animatedly to Rachel about Jake's Homecoming proposal.

I face Dawson. "I think maybe Peyton wants to be your date."

He runs his hand up my thigh. "Peyton is hot, but she's been with my brother. I could never be with someone who’s been with one of my brothers. Speaking of brothers. Cam wants me to hang out with him this weekend."

"That sounds fun."

"You won't be mad if I go?"

"Should I be mad at you for wanting to see your brother?"

He wraps his arm around my neck and kisses my forehead. "You're the coolest girlfriend ever."

I'm about to ask him what he's going to do there that I would need to be cool about, but the dean stands up at the podium. "Before I announce this year's Homecoming Court, I'd like to remind you all to be on your best behavior while the alumni are our guests. I expect no shenanigans." He stops and stares directly at Riley. "The alumni are to be treated with the upmost respect. Now it's my honor to announce this year's Court."

He starts reading freshman and sophomore names off a list. "Riley, why did he stop and look at you?"

Riley whispers, "Remember I told you I got kicked out Freshman year?"

"Uh, huh."

"It may have been due to an incident during Homecoming."

" . . . Junior boys: Aiden Arrington, Logan Pedersen, and Nick Cosse. Junior Girls: Maggie Morgan, Keatyn Monroe, Ariela Ross. And lastly, our Senior Court: Jake Worth, Dawson Johnson, and Brad Stewart. And our lovely Queen candidates: Whitney Clarke, Peyton Arrington, and Mariah Sauer. Remember, if you are a football player, you will wear your uniform on the field during half time. And, as per tradition, all girls will wear a formal gown. All members will be accompanied on the field by their parents. Congratulations to this year's Homecoming court, and Go Cougars!"

I watch Whitney ball her hand into a fist and shake it when they call her name. She must really want this. She never shows such excitement over anything.

Dawson hugs me. "Congrats, Keatie! I can't believe you made it. You've only been here a month!"

Whitney says, "Why you think she's dating you, Dawson? She wants to be popular."

I want to leap over the table, grab Whitney by the shirt, and wipe the smug look off her face.

But, I don't.

"I'm not dating Dawson to be popular, Whitney." I say. "I'm dating him for hot sex."

Dawson drops his head onto my shoulder to hide his snickers.

"Classy."

"Hot sex isn't supposed to be classy, Whitney. But speaking of classy, I heard how Jake asked you to Homecoming last night. How he tied a note to a certain body part."

Rachel and the other minions look at Whitney in surprise. I have a feeling she didn't tell them the complete truth.

Whitney recovers quickly. “He wrapped it around his ankle."

I laugh. “So I heard. I also heard that wasn't the first place you looked." I turn to Dawson. "Come on, my future Homecoming King. Walk me to class."

"My pleasure," he says, getting up and escorting me out of the café.

As I'm sitting in French class, waiting for the bell to ring, I'm thinking about texting Kym and asking her to find me a gown. But I decide that it might be fun to go shopping in New York this weekend instead. Dawson will be out of town, so I'll ask the girls if they want to make a weekend out of it. I’m also wondering who in the world I’m going to get to escort me on the field.

Me: I need your help.

My phone rings.

“What’s wrong?” Garrett asks me.

"Um, nothing. I made Homecoming Court. My parents are supposed to escort me. It's a big deal here, so I just thought maybe . . ."

Aiden and Annie sit in their desks next to me. ". . .Um, maybe, my uncle could come."

"I'm sorry. Your mom is planning a trip, so I have a lot on my mind."

"Is something going wrong with the trip?"

"It's my job to make sure nothing goes wrong."

"Oh, okay. So it's next Friday night. Will that work?"

His voice softens. "I'll make it work, Keatyn."

I smile. "Thank you."

Annie screams, "Congrats on Court! Oh my gosh, Keatyn, I'm so excited for you. And a little jealous, too. I wish I could get a gorgeous long gown.”

Scripted out her perfect life.

Soccer.

We're finishing up soccer practice when Peyton smiles and whispers to me, "Done."

"What's done?"

"I have a date who is hotter than Jake and, no offense, hotter than Dawson."

"Who?"

"Dawson's older brother, Camden. But don't tell anyone. I want it to be a surprise. I've been telling Whitney that I don't have a date. That I'm probably going stag. She's been pitying me."

“Why don't you want her to know?"

"Because that's who Whitney really wanted." She leans in close and speaks quietly. "Dawson doesn't even know this. He thought she was a virgin when they did it, but her first time was really with Cam."

As we jog into the locker room, I think about Dawson. How hurt and disgusted he would be if he ever found out the truth.

While I’m changing out of my soccer clothes, Peyton is still spilling. "He totally used her then ditched her. So she settled for Dawson. Told me that she knew he'd grow up to be almost as hot and planned their perfect senior year in detail."

"She scripted out her perfect life?" Wow. Whitney and I aren’t really that different.

I mean, except for the whole bitch part.

Peyton nods, "Exactly."

"So you're taking Cam to rub her face in it?"

"Yep," she says proudly, tightening her ponytail. "I'm tired of her crap. Tired of her telling me who I should date. What I should do. How I should dress. I'm going on record right now." She stands in the center of the locker room and yells out, "I hate square-heeled grandma shoes!" Then she takes a pair of sensible navy pumps out of her locker and whips them into the trash.

I can't help but flash back to Cush taking off the boots that were trying to kill me and how freeing it felt. How it was about more than just a pair of shoes that didn't fit. I was trying to free myself of Vanessa.

She goes on. "I'm popular. I'm in every freaking activity there is. I should just make my own group. Tell her to fuck off."

I scrunch up my nose. "Um, yeah, that might not be the best idea."

She wraps her arm around my shoulder. "And you are just the girl to be my new best friend."

"Um . . ."

She holds up her hand, shushing me. "No. Please. Don't say anything. Let me revel in the freedom."

"Uh, okay," I say, but I'm thinking, Shit. What did I just get myself into?

Be a rock star.

4:45pm

I stop to get hot chocolates for the girls after dance practice and when I get to our room, Katie, Maggie, and Annie are surrounding Katie's desk.

Katie turns to me. "Keatyn, come here! You have to listen to our new favorite song. And you should see the video. Hang on, I’m going to pull it up. The lead singer. Holy shit. He is so freaking hot. But, like, dreamy. And, I swear, it feels like he's singing to you. Like you're the only girl in the world."

As she pulls up the video, I see the name Twisted Dreams dance across the screen.

I slowly drop down onto her bed.

"It's not a real video," she continues. "Apparently, they played this song for the first time at a concert in Stockholm and the crowd went crazy. So the next concert—well, watch. You'll see."

The big stage is completely dark except for a spotlight shining down on Damian, who is sitting on a stool holding a microphone. His guitar strap is across the front of his chest; his guitar pushed around to his back. His head is down and his dark bangs are shagging over his closed eyes. The song starts out slow with only his soulful voice.

She's the kind of girl

Everybody wants be.

But no one sees what's inside,

Or that she cries herself to sleep.

But I see, baby, yeah, I see.

She's Miss Popular,

Floating with the crowd.

But it all feels so empty

That she wants to scream out loud.

But I see, baby, yeah, I see.

Suddenly, the stage lights up. The band starts rocking as Damian stands up, kicks the stool away, and sings loudly.

So forget about them,

Come surf the crowd with me.

It ain't the water,

But, baby, it's plain to see.

You gotta do your own thing.

Forge your own path.

Climb up to the top.

Any way you can.

You gotta do your own thing.

Do it up big.

Launch us to the moon.

Now, everybody sing.

The band joins him singing the chorus and so do Katie and the crowd. My eyes fill with tears. I know this is the song he talked about writing when we were in France this summer. About doing what makes you happy. About not following the crowd.

Be yourself.

Do what you love.

And soon we can all

Be a rock star.

Be a rock star.

You gotta do your own thing

Who cares what they think.

Rocket to the moon.

Come on, everybody sing.

Be yourself.

Do what you love.

And soon we can all

Be a rock star.

Be a rock star.

All three of them are still singing, Be a rock star, be a rock star, even after the video is over. Katie swivels on her chair. "Aren't they awesome? I heard they're going to tour Japan next and then, finally, they will be touring here. We have to go see them. Promise me."

I swallow the big lump in my throat and nod at her. "Yeah. We will definitely go."

Katie's phone beeps. She reads it and pops out of her chair excitedly. "That's Dallas. I'm meeting him for dinner, then we're skipping the JV game to study in the library." She laughs. "Actually, I'm hoping not to study. If he doesn't kiss me tonight, I don't know what I'm going to do. I want to kiss him so badly. Will you be in the library tutoring Aiden tonight? Or did you already?"

I laugh. "Let's see. I think you should get him to kiss you. Stare at his lips. He'll get the hint. And I am not tutoring Aiden tonight. I think he's going to study with Annie."

"Aiden said he has something else to do tonight," Annie says. "I'm meeting Ace at the game. Are you and Dawson coming?"

"I have those play tryouts.”

"Oh, I suck as a friend." Annie says, "I completely forgot. Good lu—"

"Don't say it," I interrupt her quickly. "You say, Break a leg."

Katie goes, "But you already hurt your knee. Why would we want you to break your leg? A cast would suck. You couldn't dance. It'd be tough to, you know, have fun with Dawson, and you could only wear one shoe."

"Katie."

"Oh, sorry. I'm rambling." She gives me a hug. "Why don't you wish me luck on the kissing, instead?"

"Good luck," I say.

Maggie says, "She is totally right about the shoes, because you'd probably have to wear flats with a cast. And that would suck."

"Hey, speaking of shoes. Should we all go shopping this weekend? I guess I need to find a gown and stuff for dress up days. Annie, you said you wanted a new dress."

Annie starts bouncing up and down. I think she and Katie have been hanging out too much. "That would be so great!"

Maggie screeches, “Yes! I’d much rather have you guys help me pick out a gown than my mother!”

“Where should we go?” Katie asks.

“New York. Dawson will be at Columbia, so I thought we could have a girls’ weekend. Shop all day. Stay at my loft. Party all night.”

“That sounds perfect!” Maggie exclaims.

“Hey, Ariela made Court too. Would you mind if I invited her?”

Katie says, “But she’s a cheerleader? Isn’t she supposed to be our mortal enemy during Homecoming?”

“Technically, yes, but she's really nice," Maggie says wistfully. "We were best friends until I accidentally slept with her ex-boyfriend."

"Accidentally slept with him?”

Maggie laughs. "I was drunk."

"Do you hate each other?"

"No, she forgave me, but we really haven't been close since."

“Do you have her number?”

“Yeah, here. I just texted it to you.”

I open the text, add her to my contacts, and text her.

Me: Hey! It’s Keatyn. Congrats on Court! Me, Annie, Maggie, and Katie are going to NY on Saturday morning to go shopping. Maggie and I need dresses and we all want to find stuff to wear for spirit week. We're staying at my loft. Wanna join us?

Ariela: Is Maggie okay with that?

Me: Completely. She says she misses you.

Ariela: Awww. Tell her I miss her too. I hoped to make Court again this year, but I was afraid to buy a dress early and jinx getting nominated. So I need to shop too. I’d love to go!

Me: We plan to shop all day and drink all night. A happy, boy-free night.

Ariela: I could use a boy-free night. Riley pisses me off sometimes.

Me: Why?

Ariela: He hasn't asked me to Homecoming yet!! It's only a week away! Is he going stag?

Me: I'm not sure. I'll ask him.

Yes, I lie to her. But after tomorrow night, she won't be mad anymore.

Ariela: Thanks :) I can’t wait!

"She's on board, and, Maggie, she says she misses you."

"Oh, that's so sweet. This is such a good idea. All right, I have to get going too. I'm working on a date of my own," she says as they breeze out the door.

As soon as they leave, I send an email to the concierge service for my loft with a long list of food and drinks I want delivered. Then I look at the clock.

Let's see. It's six here, so it should be well after midnight, depending on where he is in Europe.

I push Damian's number and, as usual, he answers right away.

"Keats, what's up?"

"A friend just showed me your video. The new song. It's really great. Catchy. She already has it memorized." I sing, "Be a rock star. Be a rock star."

"I've been wanting to call you. I'm sorry I haven't. You should've been the first one to hear it, since you inspired it with all your drama this summer."

"It's good to know my screwed up life is so inspirational," I say sarcastically.

"Hey, you're the one who told me people could probably relate. And you were right. We performed it one night just to gauge the crowd's reaction. It was nuts. They were singing it with us before it was over. And the label's not stupid. They knew we had a hit on our hands, got us some studio time, and we recorded it quickly. We released it a week ago and it's already hit number two in Japan."

"And there are over a million views on the concert video. Damian, I'm so proud of you. Where are you anyway?"

"Helsinki. We have a show here tomorrow night. That will round out the European tour. We'll be doing some promotional stuff, maybe get some studio time, then back at it in Japan. How's it going there?"

"I'm doing good. I'm dating a guy. He's really sweet . . ."

"Not to interrupt but I think I'm going to be in Miami soon. Special gig. I'll let you know. It'd be great to see you. I miss my Keats."

"I was your Keats before I was anyone else's."

He clears his voice. "You talk to him much?"

"I did something stupid, Damian. Vincent almost found me."

"What did you do?"

I tell him about the surf tournament.

"That's it. I'm kicking his ass."

"All that I just told you about Vincent and that's what you got out of the story? That you need to kick B's ass?"

"Yes. I'm definitely kicking his ass. And if I do Miami, it will be a very last minute surprise-the-audience thing. Not planned like Brook's tour. I really want to see you. What are you doing for the holidays?"

"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it yet."

"I think you should go to The Crab." The Crab is our secret name for their house in St. Croix.

"Could I? Will your dad be there?"

"No. Marissa is pregnant again."

"Awww!"

"Yeah. It's a boy this time. She wants to name him Rain."

"Well, his sister is named Stormy. I guess that would fit."

"He'll get his ass kicked on the playground with a name like that. Why can't they name him Lightning or Thunderbolt or something tough?"

"Speaking of names. My sisters got a dog like Buoy. They named her Kiki."

He laughs out loud.

I miss making him laugh. I miss him.

"My dad told me about that. All I have to say is Kiki must be one patient dog. I heard the girls painted her with pink and purple paint, then poured glitter all over her. When Tommy got pissed, Ivery took him aside and told him that Kiki was sad because she didn't have pretty tutus or glitter shoes and they wanted to her feel pretty. They're so funny. Everyone says they are going to have to call you Buoy when you come home." He stops laughing and is quiet for a minute. "I miss you, Keats. Everyone misses you."

"I miss everyone too. Garrett doesn't think I'll ever be able to go home. But I'm doing okay, Damian. I'm starting over."

"That's bullshit. If this goes on much longer, screw Garrett, you and me will figure out something together."

"Like old times, huh? You helping me write the scripts of my life?"

"Exactly. So, hey, we have a morning radio interview in a few hours and I haven't even been to bed yet."

I hear a girl's voice in the background say, Baby, hurry up.

"Who's that? Damian! Do you have a girlfriend?"

He laughs loudly and then whispers to me. "More like groupies. Touring is awesome."

"Then I better let you get back to that."

"Actually, I was just getting ready to leave. I really do need to get a few hours of sleep. Are you sure you're doing okay, like, really?"

"I think so."

"Any guys giving you shit?"

"I love you."

"You're avoiding that topic. Does that mean one already is?"

"No. It's more like the opposite."

"A guy is treating you too well?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"Maybe you should marry him," he laughs. "No, wait, you can't. We're already married."

"It will be easy to annul. We married under false pretenses. You told me you were a prince."

"Only because you wrote the script and made me wear that girly crown."

"True, but I also cast you as a frog because hopping around like a maniac and singing songs was something you were actually good at."

"Are you saying I wasn't a believable Prince? You've just dashed my dreams of winning an Oscar."

"I'm saying you played a much better frog." I hear the girl whine again in the background. "Case in point," I say and hang up.

Your arm candy.

6:45pm

After dinner, Jake walks by us, puckers his lips at me, and makes a loud kissing noise. "Come on, sweets, let's go."

Dawson flips him off, wraps his arms around me, and kisses my neck. "How ’bout you skip tryouts and come to my room? I guarantee it will be more fun."

"Why don't you come watch me?"

"I really don't want to watch you kiss a bunch of guys on stage."

"You know Jake is exaggerating that part just to piss you off. I kiss Jake three times in the play. And they have to be perfect fairytale kisses. They aren't hot kisses."

"Like this?" He lays his lips gently on mine in a chaste fairytale-style kiss, but then grabs the back of my hair and shoves his tongue in my mouth.

"Are you sure you don't want to try out? Those are the kind of kisses I would like to practice over and over again."

"So Jake's not going to kiss you like this?"

"Um, not even close."

"But if you do the play, we won't have much time for our kind of practicing," he pouts as he slides his hands down my back and squeezes my ass.

"We'll have plenty of time for that. I promise," I tell him as we head out of the café.

What I don’t tell him is that this is something I really want to do. And that for the first time in my life, I can try out for a role and not worry about being an embarrassment to my mom.

I can just be me.

I practically skip to the auditorium. I'm so excited.

I see Jake and Peyton ahead of me. They appear to be having a heated discussion. He walks through the auditorium doors and leaves Peyton outside.

She looks upset. "Are you okay?"

She takes a deep breath. "Yeah. Jake isn't going to say anything, but I'm pretty sure he already told Bryce. Whitney cannot find out."

"Congrats on Court. I meant to tell you earlier, but you were reveling in the freedom of throwing away your shoes.”

She brightens. “That felt really good. And you too. I’m so happy for you."

"What's the deal with wearing a formal dress on a football field? That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard."

"Really? It seems normal to me. So I saw Maggie and Katie earlier. They said you all are going to New York to shop this weekend. Do you think I could come with you? Is that bad? My totally inviting myself."

"We'd love it! I would’ve asked you. I just figured you already had a dress."

"Whitney has had her dress for months. She's been planning for the perfect dress since she started dating Dawson."

"Do you have one?"

"I do, but she helped me pick it out." She scowls. "I don't love it."

I give her a grin. "You're going to win, so you need to be in a dress that you love."

She bounces a little. "Wouldn't that be amazing?"

I glance at my watch. "Hey, I gotta get in there."

"Break a leg.” She looks at me sincerely and says, "Thanks for letting me come with you."

"You're welcome. Um, do you want to invite Whitney? I felt bad when she left me out, I don't want to make her feel that way."

"Hell, no," she says and marches off.

"Keatyn Monroe," the drama coach says, calling my name off a list in his hand.

It’s time! I was a little nervous while I was standing here waiting for my turn, but as I walk across the stage, it’s gone.

I’m ready.

I have my lines memorized.

The accent down.

I know how I want to portray the character physically.

I've even dressed the part in a sweet but flirty skirt and cowboy boots.

I recite my lines and forget about everything else.

After my tryout, I step slowly off the stage. I know I have to let the next person audition, but I'm not ready to leave. I could stay up here all night.

Dance. Talk. Pretend to be someone else.

I don't want to leave.

I send Dawson a quick text, telling him I'll meet him later, and work my way through the seats to the darkened back of the auditorium.

I'm surprised to find Aiden sitting right where I was headed. "Are you trying out?" I whisper as I take a seat next to him.

"No, I watched Logan and Nick try out earlier. They had to get to the JV game. I decided to stay and watch for a while."

"Shouldn't you be there too?”

"Cole was the starting receiver and he got hurt, so I’m filling in for him and will only be playing Varsity for a while.”

"That's exciting. Congrats."

He cocks his head at me. "So just who was that up there?"

"What do you mean?" My heart sinks. "Oh my gosh, did I suck?"

He smiles gently and shakes his head. "No, you didn't suck. It was like watching a different person. The accent. The way you flipped your hair."

He knows how I flip my hair?

He continues. "And you put your hand on your hip when she was being sassy. You only do that in real life when you're mad. You even held your jaw differently. Like, not as tight as usual and your face looked softer. Sweeter, maybe."

I break out in a grin. "That's because she's not a bitch like I am."

"You're not a bitch."

"No? But I can play one." I straighten my back. Tilt my chin and look down on him. Roll my shoulders slightly forward in a model pose. Get a defiant look in my eye.

"Damn, you haven't even said anything yet, and I'm already scared," he says with an adorable laugh. He studies my face for a minute. "You know, you have a very expressive face."

My mind flashes to Vincent saying those same words. I remember thinking it was sweet that he noticed. Of course, that was before he tried to kidnap me.

"Thank you," I say to Aiden.

"You belong up there. On stage. You made it look completely effortless, like you’re a natural."

My heart aches to tell him that I should be a natural at it, having an actress for a mom and a model for a dad. I think about my dad. How he always used to tell me to think of something happy and then would snap a photo. How we would pose for silly pictures. How he could think about something sad and look like a different person.

I nod my head and whisper the words I've been afraid to admit to anyone. "I think it's what I want to do. Like, for a living. Like, if I'm good enough."

"If I didn't need you here to tutor me, I'd suggest you quit school, go to Hollywood, and start auditioning. I'm serious, Keatyn."

My heart skips a beat. He just called me Keatyn.

God, my name sounds beautiful on his tongue.

I get all flush and flustered. Why do I still get that way around him? I kicked the Aiden addiction.

"Um, uh, thanks," I stammer. "But I think I need some practice first. Some classes, maybe."

"Well, I know you'll get the part."

"You can't know that. I was the first one to audition for it.”

"Why did you pick that role and not the lead?"

"I like how she affects the story, I guess. I like how she has to follow her heart and how she finds true love. How even though the Bad Prince tries to keep her and the Good Prince apart, their love prevails.”

Aiden lets out a deep, sexy growl. The kind of growl that makes a girl want to rip off her panties.

Not me, of course. I’m just saying most girls. Well, some girls would, maybe.

I think.

“I always knew you were a romantic at heart,” he says.

For the first time tonight, I start to sweat. I move my arms out wide on the armrests to give my pits some air to breathe.

No. I will not do it.

I will not talk to the hottie god about true love or romance.

I will change the subject.

"I've heard it's hard to be an actress. Dealing with the paparazzi. The filming locations. Kissing your cast mates. I can see why Dawson is having a hard time with it."

Aiden leans closer to me and puts his big hand on top of my knee.

It's a casual gesture, leaning in toward me, his hand on my knee for balance. "Dawson should be here supporting you. And if he had come, he'd know. It's not you up there."

Electrical shivers shoot up my leg.

And my knee is such a slut!

She likes it! She’s that friend you have. The one who you tell you’re on a diet and the next day she shows up with cupcakes and says, Aww, just one won’t hurt.

But when I look down at my knee, I realize that she’s not only a slut, she’s an enabler. She’s all, Look at your knee. How small it looks under his big hand. How safe it feels.

God, I hate my knee.

And Aiden is talking to me. Something about a premiere and a red carpet. But I don’t really catch all he’s saying.

Because. His. Hand. Is. On. My. Knee.

"You'll walk the red carpet with me?" I ask unbelievably. Is that what he said?

It's dark back here, but I instantly see a flash of brilliant white teeth.

"I said I'd watch you walk it, but if you're offering . . ."

“Oh. I, um, just, you know, a hot guy in a black suit is, um, well, it’s like the ultimate accessory."

I get another radiant smile. "It's agreed then. I'll be your arm candy."

I have the sudden urge to lick him. To see if he tastes as good as he looks.

He leans back to watch the next audition, taking his big hand with him.

I close my eyes and shake my head.

How the hell does he do that?

Damn him!

He's like a goddamned walking love potion.

I quickly grab the key necklace, hoping it’s like an antidote, and slide it back and forth across my chin while we watch the rest of the auditions in silence.

An obsession with bras.