Текст книги "Love Me"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

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“I saw Dawson changed his relationship status. Are you getting back together?”

I sigh again. “Last night, we, um, sorta maybe did some stuff that made him think things were on the right track.”

“You had sex?”

“I’m not sure I should talk to you about this. Whitney is your best friend.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whitney says she told you that she was sorry. Did she?”

“Yes, surprisingly, she did.”

“I think Dawson needed closure. He told her that he loves you. Which was so awesome.”

I ignore her Whitney slam. “Can I ask you a question about them?”

“Sure.”

“This is dumb, really. But your stupid brother said something to me earlier.” I fidget with my locket then say, “Did Dawson woo Whitney?”

“Woo her?”

“Yeah, like cute little gifts or notes or candy? Did he score points for her or make her dance with him? Did he hang lights on his ceiling? Give her four-leaf clovers? Write on a football for her?”

She looks very confused by all this. “Uh, no. She invited him to the movies with a group of us, sat next to him, made out with him, and they were together ever since. But Dawson was a good boyfriend, always thoughtful and sweet. Although . . .” She hesitates for a second. “You already know she wanted his brother and not him. She started hanging out with him hoping to make Cam jealous, but then it didn’t work. It’s a very unromantic story.” She laughs out loud. “But all that stuff you just said. Dawson didn’t do that. My brother did, right?”

“Yeah. He did. And I don’t know how I feel about him because sometimes he acts like he likes me and other times he acts like he doesn’t.”

“And how is Dawson wooing you?”

“That’s just it. He’s not. He’s sweet. We have amazing sex. Like, it’s amazing. And that’s why it’s now complicated. I can’t resist him, even though I’m still mad at him. I’m complicating it. I swore I wouldn’t do it with him until I got things straight in my mind, but then he started kissing me. And now I’m supposed to go on a sort of date with Aiden. I’m babbling. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Boys are confusing. Tell me all the stuff my brother did.”

So I tell her. Spill my guts, going all the way back to the start of the school year. About the lunch, the four-leaf clover, the dances, the toast, Keats, B, how he was mad at me, tutoring, all of it.”

“So why aren’t you with him?”

“Because it’s even more complicated. When I kicked the soccer ball at his head, it felt like we had this connection. And when he told me he was going to ask me to marry him at the top of the Eiffel Tower at sunset someday, it was too amazing to believe. Especially since I knew his player reputation.”

“Top of the Eiffel Tower, sunset?” She visibly melts and clasps her hands together. “Oh, Keatyn. That’s so romantic! I want that.”

“Well, obviously, it hasn’t worked out so well, so watch what you wish for. Aiden gets mad at me a lot. Gets mad and walks away. Dawson never gets mad at me. Plus I’m pretty sure I’m love-cursed.”

“I think I am too. But we have to keep trying until we get it right.” She hugs me and says, “So where is he taking you for dinner?”

“He said some French place. He said it’s not really a date. That it’s tutoring with food. Then he said it was a date and that we’d celebrate the fact that he got an A on a quiz. But then he said it wasn’t a date because it’s complicated with Dawson. But then he told me to un-complicate it. Which is part of the problem. Clearly, the boy has no idea what he wants. So, I don’t know what it is. Just a dinner, I guess.”

She grins at me. The same stupid grin that her brother gets when he thinks he knows something that I don’t. “The French restaurant is very nice. It’s definitely a date.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Great. Is that where he takes all his girls to woo them?”

She grabs my shoulders and looks me straight in the eyes. “Keatyn, my brother has never had to woo anyone. You saw him at the Cave the other night. They flock to him. Practically line up. I happen to know that he’s only been to that restaurant twice. Both times with our parents.” She looks me over. “You’re all sweaty. You need to go get ready. What are you going to wear?”

“I don’t know.”

She grabs me by the elbow. “Come on. I’m going to help you pick out something perfect.”

I’ve showered, shaved my legs, deep conditioned my hair, and am now curling it into the sexy supermodel curls I wore the night we danced under the twinkle lights.

Peyton is sitting on my bed flipping through a magazine when my phone buzzes.

“Oh shit,” she says, looking at my phone. “It’s Dawson. He wants you to meet him for dinner. What are you going to say?”

“The truth,” I reply, walking over to grab my phone. “We promised to always be honest with each other.”

Me:  I can’t. I’m going out for dinner.

Dawson:  With who?

Me:  Aiden. We’re combining tutoring with some French food tonight.  

Dawson: That sounds like a date.

Me:  We’re both single now. We can both go out on dates.

Dawson:  I only want to date you.

Me:  Someone asked me today what you’re doing to try and woo me back. Do you think you’re wooing me?

Dawson:  I’m pretty sure I did that last night.

Me:  Sex is not wooing.

Dawson:  Oh :(

Me:  Dawson, I know the sex is good. We have a great friendship. But I just don’t know if you even like me enough to woo me.

Dawson:  So you’re gonna date both me and Aiden?

Me:  I’m not sure that Aiden wants to date me, but I am going to dinner with him. 

Dawson:  I hate you right now.

Me:  And I love your honesty. If it’s any consolation, I have hated you quite a bit recently too. 

Dawson:   :(

“He says he hates me,” I tell Peyton.

“He’ll get over it. You have to do what’s best for you. And even though I like Dawson, what he did sucked.”

“Yeah, it did. My mom told me that you have to learn to love yourself before you can love someone else. Do you think that you love yourself?”

She picks up one of my pillows and hugs it. “I think that’s good advice, but it’s hard to love yourself. Especially if you’re like me and have screwed up more times than not.”

“Isn’t that part of loving yourself? Forgiving yourself too?”

“Yeah, probably. Although, I’m having a hard time with that. My mom has cancer.”

“I know. Aiden told me. It’s in remission, right?”

“Yeah, but when we found out, my parents made some big changes in our lives. I was a little bitch about it. We had to make bucket lists. I was mad. Mad she had cancer. Mad they moved me away from my friends. So, on my bucket list I put that I wanted to go to boarding school. So, of course, they sent me.” She shakes her head. “Serves me right. I haven’t really liked myself much since.”

I sit on the bed next to her. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. That was a lot to handle. And I know your parents did what they thought was best, but moving you away from your friends, your support system, would have been awful. I can see why you acted like a little bitch.” I smile at her. “Aiden told me about that time. About how he ended up here. He loves it, though. Do you?”

“I just try to stay busy enough not to think about all my mistakes.”

“My mom says that our pasts, including our mistakes, are what make us who we are. My dad died when I was eight.”

Her eyes get big and she reaches out to touch my forearm. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. The reason I’m telling you that is because my mom loved my dad, but now she’s with someone else. Someone she met and just knew was right. She says that sometimes life makes you wait for true love until you’re ready for it. Like all of the stupid mistakes you’re making now, when the right guy comes along, you’ll maybe have them all out of your system. If that makes sense. At least, I hope that’s what it means.”

She leans back and looks up at my ceiling, like she’s saying a prayer or making a wish.

“Hey, there are glow-in-the-dark stars all over your ceiling. Did you and Katie do that?”

I laugh. “Actually, your brother put them there.”

“Oh, wow. He is totally wooing you. You should really give the boy a chance. Now, what are you going to wear?”

I walk in my closet and try to stay calm. But it’s hard.

Because I. Am. Nervous.

Crazy, butterflies-in-my-stomach, strung-out, starting-to-sweat nervous.

Nervous that since the second he asked me on a sort-of date to a French restaurant my mind has been going to all those dreamy places. I’ve been writing scripts in my head about how he’ll take me to dinner and tell me I’m the one. That he made a wish on the moon. That it was fate that brought us together. That he wants to marry me. That he wants to grow old with me.

That he wants to kiss me with his tongue.

French restaurants and French kisses should be paired like a lamb chop and a vintage Bordeaux.

They. Belong. Together.

And I could so belong to Aiden.

I should call Maggie. She knows Aiden’s past. Has anyone ever successfully moved out of the friend zone with him?

No.

I can’t do that. I don’t want to know.

I don’t want to be like any other stupid girl.

I can’t even see my clothes. They have all just become a blurry colored background. Like a sunset.

Oh. My. God.

Everything—even my own closet—is plotting against me.

When has my closet ever looked like a sunset? Never. Never, ever. Ever.

Always. Only. Ever. For you. 

“Can’t you find anything to wear?” Peyton says, pulling me out of my maniacal thoughts.

I look at my closet again. Take a whiff of it.

It sort of smells like Aiden.

That’s it!

He was in my room putting up the stars. That’s why I can’t think. There must have been love potion still lingering in the air that got trapped in my closet.

I walk out into my room, open my window, and take a deep breath of fresh, cleansing air.

“I think I almost have it figured out,” I lie.

“You aren’t usually so indecisive. Here, I’ll choose one.” She wanders into my closet, flips through the rack, and pulls out a pale pink Marchesa organza ruffle dress with a black bow at the waist. “This is what you should wear. It even looks Parisian.”

Oh, I can’t wear that dress. That’s the dress I’d been saving in my closet at home for the perfect occasion. I brought it here to give me hope. It’s the dress I thought I’d wear when I got my life back.

I’ve even given the dress a little script.

We’ll go to Paris. Stay at the Four Seasons. Shop all the designer boutiques. Stop for tea and macaroons at Ladurée. Then, as I walk into Cartier, an amazingly hot guy—who, unbeknownst to me, is the prince of a small country—holds the door open for me. He whispers to me in a sexy accent. He tells me I’m beautiful, causing me to blush the exact same shade as the dress. He helps me pick out a fabulous piece of jewelry, then insists on buying it for me, telling me that the gorgeous gem pales in comparison to my beauty.

But, in all likelihood, that won’t happen any time soon.

My mind flashes to me wearing this dress in my coffin, instead. After Vincent finds me, rubs his tattoo against me, and makes me film a movie.

I shudder. “You’re right, Peyton. That dress is perfect.”

“You’re acting strange,” she says, scrutinizing my face. Then her face breaks out into a grin. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

“I just got dumped by Dawson and then slept with him. Now it’s complicated and I’m going to dinner with your brother. Please, don’t stress me out any more. This dinner is a simple tutoring exercise.”

She smirks. “Whatever you say. How about shoes?”

I pull a pair of black Jimmy Choo high-heeled sandals that have black ostrich feathers gracing the front of them. “These, for sure,” I say, my confidence coming back. I grab a pair of long black feather earrings, a pearled Alexander McQueen clutch, and a rose quartz flower ring for my accessories.

“Love the feather earrings,” Peyton says. “Très chic.”

My phone buzzes.

“It’s my brother,” she says. “He’s just pulling up and says he’ll meet you in the front hall.”

A wonderful sense of powerlessness.

6:30pm

I walk slowly down the hall.

I’m done freaking out. I look good. I’m loving me. I’m doing all the things at school that I wanted to do. I’m proud of the fact that I’m still here. That I came face-to-face with Vincent—not once, not twice, but three times—and managed to get away.

But, at the same time, I feel like my luck is starting to run out.

Maybe I need another four-leaf clover, I think with a grin.

As I turn to walk into the front hall, Aiden’s eyes are on me, making me feel like I’m making a grand entrance at a ball.

Now presenting Miss Keatyn Elizabeth Douglas.

I just need a little dude standing here with a trumpet.

Oh, shoot. Script change.

Now presenting Miss Keatyn Elizabeth Monroe.

Aiden is wearing a charcoal gray suit with chalk-colored pinstripes and a white dress shirt with French cuffs. Very appropriate.

And he looks so very handsome. I know I go on and on about his appearance, but I’ll just say this.

He looks like he walked out of my dreams.

He walks toward me, kisses my hand, and says, “Vous êtes belle, mademoiselle.”

“You look pretty handsome yourself,” I reply. Then I notice his tie. It’s pink with little black Eiffel Towers sketched all over it. “We going a little overboard on this whole French theme?” I ask, pointing at his tie and laughing.

He chuckles and pulls up the tie. “This was my family’s way of giving me shit because I barely passed French last year. I got a 70.2% as my final grade. I told you. Fate.”

He leads me outside to the car that is almost as gorgeous as he is, walks me around to the passenger side, opens the door, and lets me in.

I slide into the leather seat, loving that Aiden has good manners.

Aiden opens his door and slides in next to me.

He reaches over, grabs my hand out of my lap, and holds it on the stick shift under his. “You ready?”

“Yeah. I’m looking forward to seeing if you can read the menu. You have to order. You know that, right?”

He grins at me as he puts the car in gear.

And I may be slightly obsessed with the way his hand feels on top of mine. The way he presses down on it slightly when he shifts. It’s like he’s in control.

And for some strange and surprising reason, I find this oddly comforting.

No, comforting isn’t the right word. I feel like he’s taking care of me. Kind of like the old-fashioned version of how a man is supposed to be. Usually, I have to drive a relationship. I have to know where it’s going.

With Aiden, I have this wonderful sense of powerlessness.

And it’s kinda thrilling.

“I love your dress,” he says. “And we match.”

“Your sister picked it out. I wasn’t planning on wearing it. I was sort of saving it.”

“What for?”

“You know, like a rainy day.”

“That dress is too pretty for a rainy day. You look like you should be in Paris having tea and eating macaroons.”

My eyes practically bug out of my head.

What the hell?

Can he read my freaking mind now, for real?

“I, uh, how did you know that?”

“Know what?”

“That I was saving it for Paris.”

He squints his eyes at me. “I didn’t. I just said that it looks like you should. So, does Dawson know we’re going on a date tonight?”

“I thought it was tutoring with food?”

Aiden pushes his hand down on mine as he shifts. I force myself to breathe normally. I am a normal person.

“No, it’s definitely a date. So, what did you and my sister talk about?”

“You know, clothes, shoes, boys.”

“Boys?”

“Well, yeah. We were talking about wooing. What you said made me think.”

“And what did you decide?”

“So far, Dawson is not wooing me. He’s also not thrilled about our field trip tonight.”

“You told him we were on a field trip?”

I laugh. “Naw, I told him it was tutoring with food at a remote location.”

“So, you lied?”

“Technically, that would not be a lie. And no, I didn’t. I told him it was a date. Even though you were a little unclear about it, your sister says it’s a date because you’re taking me to a nice restaurant. Plus, you’re wearing a suit. It’s totally a date.”

He downshifts, stops at a light, pulls my hand to his lips, and kisses it again. When the light turns green, he pushes it back on the stick shift, revs the motor, and slams through the gears.

And I must admit, it revs my motor too.

“You’re driving awfully fast.”

“I know. It’s fun, huh?”

Okay, so I have to gush.

OH. MY. GOSH.

Is he freaking sexy, or what?

Him, the suit, the tie, the car, the adrenaline rush, all of it.

He is—well, it’s no surprise. He is God of all Hotties, for sure.

We get to the restaurant, where he opens my car door, opens the restaurant door, and pulls out my chair for me. He is quite chivalrous.

But then he flips open the menu, written in French.

French is like his Achilles heel. His one weakness. And it’s adorable. Plus, it’s good to know he has at least one weakness.

“I like that you suck at French,” I tell him.

He slides his chair closer to mine and tries to read the entire menu.

And he doesn’t do half bad.

He figures out what he wants and attempts to order. And I maybe have to correct his pronunciation a few times, but he does well.

And it is the most adorable thing ever when he orders for both of us.

As Grandpa would say, His Momma done raised him right.

Damn, did she ever.

When the waiter takes our menus away, Aiden holds my hand and gazes into my eyes.

I’ve never felt so important or like what I had to say was so important. Like, you know how lots of times you’re talking to a guy and his eyes are looking everywhere but at you? Then he will glance back at your face, to verify that you are still talking; then he’ll look down and stare at your boobs—to make sure they are still intact, I think. And then his eyes sort of get that dazed look, and he continues to stare at your boobs, and you want to scream, Uh, hello, I’m speaking with my mouth, not my cleavage; you wanna just occasionally glance up? 

Aiden’s not doing that. I have his full attention.

And he sure freaking has mine.

I also realize that his pull on me is not as shocking.

Maybe it’s like when you go stay up in the mountains and get acclimated to the altitude. I’m sort of being acclimated to his magnetism. I’m not quite as tongue-tied as I usually am around him, and I’m able to think more clearly.

He flashes his smile at me. “Why are you glad I suck at French?

“It makes you more human,” I stupidly say. Oh jeez, I’m an idiot. “I mean, uh, I wouldn’t have gotten to come here for dinner if you, um, didn’t, right?”

Clearly the air is still thin here at the top and is affecting my brain.

He reaches out and pushes my hair behind my ear, like he’s done it a million times. “I just noticed your earrings. Love the feathers and how they match your shoes.”

“Thanks. You look quite handsome tonight yourself. Whoever tailored your suit is quite talented. It fits you meticulously.”

“I wanted to look nice for you. So, I know you and Dawson are complicated, but what about Dallas? You were kissing him in the video.”

“Dallas and I are very not complicated. We’re friends. We smoke together sometimes and then we kiss. It’s no big deal.”

“You don’t think kissing is a big deal? I think our kisses are a pretty big deal.”

He runs his thumb across the palm of my hand, causing me to shiver.

The waiter interrupts our kissing conversation when he sets down our appetizers. A traditional French onion soup and sautéed escargot in a mushroom and red wine sauce.

“It’s too bad we don’t have a nice Bordeaux to go with this,” he says. “When we go to France, we’re drinking wine with every meal.”

“Have you ever been to France?”

“Once, to Paris. Do you like to travel? I love it.”

“Yeah, I do. I like to see the different cultures, experience the foods, see the sights, the countryside. Where all have you been?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Basic stuff like Disney World. New York. Chicago. Then Venice. London. Hawaii. Berlin. Amelia Island. Cayman Islands, St. Kitts and St. Croix.”

“What did you think of St. Croix?”

“It’s like paradise. I’d love to go back, but my parents are on this kick where they won’t go back to the same place until they have been everywhere on their list. I’d love to go back just to relax, though.”

“Maybe I could arrange that.” I can’t help it. I’m smiling big.

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Good friends of ours have a place there. They don’t go very often, so I can use it whenever I want.”

“Really?”

I nod. “Okay, so, this is way out of left field . . .”

I stop myself.

Keatyn, what are you thinking? You’re not making plans with another boy only to be let down. You’ll go to St. Croix by yourself for Thanksgiving break. You’ll have fun relaxing. You’ll work on loving yourself.

“Um, never mind. So, this week rehearsals start getting serious. I can’t believe in a few weeks we’ll be performing in front of a live audience.”

He holds a spoonful of soup up to my mouth. I’m trying not to swoon over the fact that he’s feeding me.

“Don’t do that,” he says.

“Don’t do what?”

“What you just did. You were going to ask me something. Something that you were excited about, but then it’s like you got scared to ask me.”

I soak an escargot in wine sauce and eat it.

“This is all really good,” I say, avoiding the subject.

“Boots . . .”

“Can you read my mind?”

“No, but I sure wish I could. I’d love to know what you’re thinking. Tell me.”

I bob my head around like an idiot, trying to think up a lie. But, as usual when I’m with Aiden, all that’s in my head is cotton candy.

“I’m going there for Thanksgiving break. I was going to invite you. Like, the place is big. Peyton and your family could come too. But it was a silly idea. I’m sure you have plans and stuff.”

“We’ve always gone to my grandma’s for dinner, but she passed away last year, so I’m not sure what our plans are. Why were you hesitant to ask?”

“Um, well, it’s, like, a month away, and who knows if we’ll even still be friends then.”

He tilts his head and gives me those green eyes. Those eyes that see straight through me. “Boots, we’re gonna be a lot more than friends by then.”

Great. More. As in we’ll be sleeping together.

“I doubt it,” I say disappointedly.

“Yeah, I should probably take into account your track record.”

I can’t believe he just said that!

I look down at the tablecloth, suddenly feeling like I could cry.

He leans his forehead against mine. When I look up, he bats his dark brown eyelashes at me and smiles. “You know I’m just teasing you. Come here.”

I don’t move, so he puts his hand under my chin, pushing it up, straight to his waiting lips.

Once again, our kiss is so simple, so chaste, our lips touching, barely moving.

He kisses me for a few seconds then cruelly pulls his perfectly-formed lips away from me. “I’d really like to know what you’re thinking right now.”

“I’m thinking no one has ever kissed me the way you do,” I answer honestly. And surprisingly. Why the hell did I just say that?!

He stares at me for a few beats of my heart, then says, “So, we have this Greek weekend coming up. You do realize that since we’re on the Social Committee we have an obligation to be together the entire weekend to make sure everything goes as planned?”

I squint my eyes at him, trying to gauge if he’s serious. “I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, yes, I had it written into the bylaws. So Friday night after the game, you have to sit with me at the movie and sing-along. Lame.”

“It will be fun and you know it.”

“I think anything we do together will be fun.”

And I can’t help it. My mind goes to doing things with him. His tongue blazing a trail across my body. The gods only know the things that boy can do with his powerful mouth.

“Uh, yeah, probably,” I manage to sputter out.

“Then, Saturday, you’ll have to cheer me on while I compete—shirtless, apparently—in the Gods of Olympus competition.”

“I think the whole shirtless thing was pretty brilliant. I wonder who came up with that idea?”

“I think I’m going to freeze,” he says with a laugh. “And then there’ll be the feast. Where you will toast in my honor—”

“Only if you actually win.”

“I’m going to win.”

“Just because you danced your way to Mr. Eastbrooke doesn’t mean you can win at wrestling. Do you even know how to wrestle?” I want to add that maybe we should get naked and he could practice, but I don’t.

He puts his chin on his fist and licks his lips. Which means I get to see his tongue. He smirks and raises his eyebrows at me. “Maybe I’ll have to show you.”

I gulp, then nervously grab a curl and wrap it around my finger.

He grabs my hand out of my curl and brings it to his lips. “What? You don’t want to get naked and see which one of us is stronger?”

Um, honestly, I don’t know what I want. Part of me wants him to be like every other guy. Wants him to be a player.

But most of me wants him to be different.

I flash him a fake smile. “That sounds fun,” I say with zero enthusiasm.

What’s wrong with me? The hottie god wants to get naked with me and now I don’t want to?

And to top it all off, I suddenly feel like crying. I can feel little tears prickling my eyes.

Am I about to get my period or something? Why am I feeling so emotional?

Aiden tilts his head at me, looks into my soul, and somehow knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“Boots, I was just teasing you.”

My heart soars and drops all at the same time. “So you don’t want me naked?”

He slowly blinks his eyes. When he opens them, the hunger I saw briefly in his room when he had me pinned against his wall is back. And, once again, it is so. Fucking. Sexy.

“I definitely want you naked. Just not yet. We should take things slow. Be friends.”

I sit here. Not sure what to say to that. Part of me wants to fight him on it. Part of me thinks he’s right. Part of me just wants to see him naked.

“So, back to this weekend,” he says. “We will also be required to kiss and hold hands.”

“You’re trying to create a Greek atmosphere by kissing?”

“Oh, no. That will be because you want to.”

“I want to? No. You’ll want to.”

“What makes you think that?”

My response is interrupted by the waiter bring our entrée. It smells heavenly. He went a little cheesy romantic on the entrée, ordering chateaubriand for two. It’s served with a Béarnaise sauce, roasted fingerling potatoes, and asparagus. He cuts into it and feeds me the first rich morsel.

“Because I’m starting to think that you’re wooing me,” I tell him after I finish chewing.

“Me? Naw.” He grins. “What was your first clue?”

“Honestly, the way things have gone between us, so up and down. Like, one minute you pulled the she-loves-me petal off and the next the she-loves-me-not petal. But today, I was telling your sister about wooing and I realized all that you’ve done.”

“And?”

“I like it.”

We finish dinner, talk over dessert, then head out to his car. Again, he opens the door for me as I slide in.

He gets in the other side, puts the keys in the ignition, but doesn’t start the car.

He leans toward me and pushes my hair behind my ear. “I want this feather. Can I take it off?”

I’m sort of puzzled by this request, but I say, “Uh, sure.”

He glides the hook out of my ear then runs his thumb across it. “It’s a soft as it looks.” He runs the feather lightly down my arm.

“Mhmm,” I groan softly.

He pushes my hair from one side of my neck to the other, so my neck is fully exposed on the side closest to him. Then he runs the feather up the side of my neck.

Which may be the sexiest thing anyone has ever done to me.

My dress has a plunging neckline and when he runs the feather down into my cleavage, I decide it is indeed the sexiest thing anyone has ever done to me.

How does he come up with this shit?

His mother is Aphrodite, that’s how. Durrr.

I lean back into the headrest and close my eyes. Just feel the feather gliding across my skin, leaving me with goosebumps everywhere. He glides it up on my face and slowly across my eyelids.

I swear, I’m taking this feather home and having it bronzed.

He runs it across my lips.

Although having it dipped in gold would probably be more godlike.

I feel his chest touch mine as his lips replace the feather.

I run my fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck, and finally he kisses me more deeply.

Still no freaking tongue, but the kiss is deeper. His lips are pressed tighter to mine. His mouth more forceful. Who was it that said we needed to come up with another word besides amazing?

Oh, I forget.

His hands tangle in my hair then slide down my shoulders. My eyes are shut tightly, taking in every touch. He kisses gently down my neck and then I feel one single finger follow the outline of my dress.

On. My. Naked. Skin.

The finger starts on my collarbone, making a slow descent down the side of one boob, pausing briefly in my cleavage, and then back up the other side.

My back is pressed tightly against the seat, and even though my eyes are closed, I can’t stop smiling.

And making little contented sighs.

He grabs my chin and turns my head toward him.

I half open my eyes.

Did I mention that I am in love with this boy? One hundred percent completely, stupidly in love with him?

But I am an idiot who clearly has no clue what real love is.

But I don’t care right now.

I gaze into his eyes and then kiss him back.

Eventually, sadly, the kissing stops and he drives us back to school. He parks his car in the lot and holds my hand as we wander slowly toward my dorm.

I’m still in a bit of a daze. Must be an aftereffect of kissing a god.

I’m thinking about what’s sure to come next—an amazing goodnight kiss—when I hear a voice say, “Keatie?”

Oh, shit.

It’s Dawson, sitting on the steps in front of my dorm, obviously waiting for me.

I freeze. “Uh, hey, Dawson. What’s up?”

Aiden squeezes my hand, turns me around to face him, and completely ignores the fact that Dawson is here. “I had a great time tonight.” He leans in, kisses me on the cheek, and says quietly, “And I’m keeping the feather.”

Then he turns and walks away.

Dawson says, “You’re really dressed up. So, you got French food?”

“Yes, we did. Aiden was able to read most of the menu. How was your night? What’d you do?”

He grabs my waist like he always does and pulls me in toward him.

I give him a little hug.

But I can’t kiss him.

I just can’t.

“I complained to Bryce the entire time you were gone. He finally told me to shut the fuck up, so I came out here to wait for you.”

I pull away from him. “Oh, I’m sorry, but I have to get in there. Sign in. I don’t want to get in trouble. Just text me or something.”