Aiden Read online

  I want her to have a life filled with love and happiness—and me.

  That’s the truth. I’m in love with her.

  Probably have been since she rushed down the hill, stole the soccer ball—with her dress and golden hair flying behind her, looking like a goddess—dribbled down the field, and kicked it right past me.

  What girl does that?

  What new girl does that?

  But when she smirked at me, I saw more than beauty and challenge. I saw myself reflected in her unusual purple-blue eyes. I felt my soul awaken—my heart kick-started.

  You hear about love at first sight, but never really believe in it. Never expect it will happen to you. Most of what I have experienced up until now falls into the lust-at-first-sight category. She just feels different. She has brought out a range of emotions in me I didn’t realize I had.

  The level of anger, jealousy, and rage she makes me feel drives me nuts.

  But there’s more.

  Desire and love mixed with a fierce need to protect her and to care for her.

  I want to know what makes her tick, and what’s happened in her life to make her what she is today. She eludes confidence, but there’s something behind the curtain—just below the surface, is it sorrow? Or is she just homesick?

  She closes her eyes and starts crying again.

  I wrap my arms around her, causing her to practically melt into my chest. I try to soothe her by whispering in her ear. “Shhhh, it’ll be okay.”

  Her body shudders, and she sobs a bit more. I slide my hand into her silky hair, causing the sweet scent of cotton candy to permeate my senses as I hold her tightly. I can hear her heartbeat against my chest. I swear, it feels like it beats for me.

  “Why aren’t you in class?” she whispers.

  I run my hand through her hair again, trying to calm her. “I saw you sitting on the bench, talking on your phone. You had your head down the whole time. I was waiting so I could apologize for last night. Again. It feels like I’m always apologizing to you. But when you looked up, I could tell by the look on your face that something was wrong. And when you marched straight to the chapel, I knew you must be really upset. What happened?”

  “I got some bad news from my family. Um, my friend, she has this guy who has been stalking her. She’s maybe missing right now.”

  “And they think the stalker might have hurt her? What was their relationship? Did they date?”

  “No, they think it started when he saw a picture of her.”

  “A picture?”

  “Yeah. Um, my friend wanted to be an actress, and he saw a picture of her. They met. He flirted with her. Told her he wanted to make a movie with her. They actually had become friends. She thought he was nice. Until he tried to kidnap her.”

  She’s telling me how all of this happened to her friend, but her hands are shaking, and the tears continue to fall. Why does it feel like she’s talking about herself? Why do I feel like there’s more to the story?

  A lot more.

  I try to make some sense of it. “So why isn’t the guy in jail?”

  “She invited him to a party. There was a commotion. He told her he was taking her to a van out back. But she got away. A guy fought with him. The police came. They took her statement. She was hysterical. Threw up. She’d been drinking. It was her word against his. There was just not enough evidence.”

  “That’s awful,” I say softly, pulling her back against my chest. “Tell me the rest.”

  And she does. About how her friend’s family sent her away. How Keatyn can’t see her again. How they think this stalker is still after her friend. It’s crazy. And scary.

  “I’m sure she’ll be okay. Is that why you came here? To pray?”

  She nods her head. “Yes. And I knew if I went to class I would start crying. I wouldn’t want anyone to see me like this. I’m sure I look gross.” She hangs her head in shame.

  I gently push her chin up. “I told you before. I doubt you’re ever gross.” Seriously, I’ve never seen someone look so beautiful when they cry. My sister’s face always turns bright red, her eyes get glassy, and her nose runs.

  Keatyn delicately slides her finger across her cheek to wipe the mascara off her face as she turns to me. “Aiden, do you ever lie?”

  “I don’t like to be lied to, so I try not to,” I reply, focusing more on the way she says my name. How it makes me stir in places I shouldn’t right now. She’s upset. Sex is the last thing that should be on my mind. But it’s there. God, it’s there. I can control myself around girls, but with her, it’s a constant struggle.

  “My friend. She was afraid, so she left town. Just up and left. Didn’t tell very many people where she went. She’s living somewhere else under a different name. She’s meeting new people and making new friends, but she hasn’t told them what happened. Or that she’s using a new name. She feels like she’s living a lie.”

  “Is she just lying about her name?”

  “No, she has to lie about her past, too. She wasn’t famous, but her parents are. People would recognize her name.”

  “Well, I’m sure her new friends would understand if they found out.”

  She smiles, lies down and puts her head in my lap, then pulls her feet up onto the pew and curls up in a ball. “I’m afraid for her.”

  When she speaks those words, a chill runs through me. But not because of her friend. I’m afraid for Keatyn—because she’s afraid. And I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something she’s not telling me.

  I push her soft hair back off her face gently and run my hand across her cheek. She needs reassurance. And I want to be the one who kisses it and makes it better. “What I told you in class. Whenever you need me, I’m there. I know we were talking about tutoring, but it goes for everything. You can always come talk to me when you’re upset.”

  She lets out a big sigh as fresh tears fall down her face. “No, I can’t. Half the time you’re mad at me. You got so mad at me last night. I really wish we didn’t fight, Aiden.”

  “It bothers you?” Thank God.

  “Yes, it bothers me. I like you. I wish we could be friends.”

  “You know why I get mad, don’t you?” Because I’m jealous as hell.

  “Yes. You jump to conclusions about things that you shouldn’t.” Wrong. “Half the time you don’t let me finish my sentence before you go storming off.” True, because she drives me nuts. “And then you pretend punch my head.” This makes me smile.

  I bend down to kiss her forehead. “I’m sorry. I promise not to pretend punch your head ever again.”

  “Thank you.”

  My cell buzzes again, causing me to glance at it. “It’s my sister. She’s called me four times. Hang on.”

  When I answer, Peyton goes, “Aiden! Where are you? Are you with Keatyn? Do you know what time it is?”

  “Yeah,” I reply. “I didn’t realize it was that late. It’s fine. Don’t worry. And yes, she’s with me.”

  “I don’t know what you are doing, but you both better get your asses to the field house. Now.”

  I end the call, not needing to hear anymore.

  “Are we in trouble for skipping French?” Keatyn asks.

  “We didn’t just skip French, Boots. School’s out. You’re supposed to be in the dance locker room, and I’m supposed to be getting ready for the game.”

  She sits up quickly. “What time is it?”

  “5:45.”

  “Ohmigosh! Are we going to be in trouble?”

  The defeat in her face is like a blow to my gut. She doesn’t need more trouble. She’s been through enough today. And, maybe, she’s been through enough before she ever got here. I need to fix this for her.

  “Tell you what. I’ll go talk to the Dean. You go get ready for dance.”

  She attempts to clean up her face and straightens her sexy, red dance skirt. Her hair is damp around her face and causes her tendrils to curl a little. I give her a smile, then hold open the chapel door for her as she takes off running toward the field house.

  Flavor of the week.

  6:15pm

  “You need to get to the locker room, son,” the Dean says after I explain what happened to Keatyn—how she got some bad news from home, how I saw her get a phone call and then go directly to the chapel, how upset she was, and why I hope she won’t be in trouble.

  “Thank you, sir,” I say, knowing we won’t get any demerits or detentions.

  “And, we need a win tonight,” he adds.

  I leave the Dean’s office happy that at least Keatyn will have one less thing to worry about. I rush into the locker room, throwing on my pads and getting suited up.

  “Nice of you to join us, Arrington,” Coach says, but thankfully he doesn’t press the subject. Probably because I’m never late, and he knows I must have a good reason for being so today.

  But, unfortunately not everyone feels that way.

  Dawson gives me shit the second he’s out of earshot. “What’s going on with you and Keatyn?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit. Tell me where you were all afternoon.”

  “In the chapel.”

  Dawson is all pumped up and mad. His hands are closed in tight fists, and he’s dying to take a swing at me.

  “Get your head in the game, Dawson,” Jake says, stepping between us. “You two can duke it out after we win.”

  But Dawson doesn’t back down. He gets in my face. “If you were hooking up with my girl, you better hope the game never ends.”

  I don’t bother to tell him that regardless of what he thinks Keatyn is not his girl.

  Because if she truly loved him, when she was upset, she would have gone to him. She would have told him everything, not me.

  But the second it cro
sses my mind, I realize that’s not true. Because I know she didn’t tell me everything.

  My thoughts are interrupted by the Coach yelling at the team. “Let’s get out there and win this one!”

  I focus on the football game when I’m out on the field, but when I’m on the sidelines I watch Keatyn. She’s off—messing up her dances.

  I study her face from across the field. She looks stressed out. Preoccupied. Obviously, thinking about her friend.

  She’s not even really watching the game. Her eyes are constantly darting across the crowd—like she is trying to find someone she knows?

  Or could she be in danger here?

  “Arrington!” Coach yells out, calling for my attention. “You think you can make a fifty-yarder?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I reply confidently. “I do it in practice all the time.”

  “Then go do it!”

  I run out onto the field and line up for the field goal—smiling as I think about getting a few more Points for Dances—and drill the ball through the goal posts.

  For her.

  Only for her.

  As the team makes our big entrance back onto the field after halftime, I hang to the back of the pack. The cheerleaders and dance team always line up for our return, and I need to talk to her.

  She’s shaking her pompoms but seemingly lost in thought when I stop directly in front of her and slide my hands down her arms. “Have you heard anything?”

  She looks shocked that I stopped in the middle of the field to talk to her. It makes me wonder what kind of guys she’s dated in the past. Is she not used to someone caring about her?

  She gazes into my eyes and shakes her head. Her eyes are like windows into her soul. That bluish purple color makes me forget where I am.

  I lean my helmet against her forehead, needing to be closer to her. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

  Then I take off running to catch up with the rest of the team before Coach yells at me.

  Coach doesn’t seem to have noticed my stopping, but Dawson sure did.

  He grabs me by the face mask, pissed. “I told you to stay the hell away from her!”

  “I can talk to whoever I want,” I reply, shoving him away, standing up straighter, and preparing myself for a fight.

  Dawson lunges toward me, but someone steps in between us.

  “I told you, deal with this shit later,” Jake yells at Dawson. “We’ve got a game to win. Focus on that.”

  “I don’t give a shit,” Dawson yells, but Jake drags him over to the bench.

  “What’s going on with you and Keatyn, anyway?” Logan asks, sliding up next to me. “You ditched all your afternoon classes and were with her? I’m all for you getting some tail, bro, but you can get kicked out for that shit. Not to mention, Dawson wants to pummel you. I’d hate to see my best friend shipped back to California over some freaking girl.”

  “It’s not like that,” I mutter as I run out onto the field for the start of the third quarter, praying that what I told Keatyn will come true. That it will all be okay.

  After the game, I take a quick shower, hoping to be able to talk to Keatyn before she leaves for the weekend. She’s going with my sister, Whitney, Dawson, and the rest of the popular crew to some spa up north.

  What I’d really like to do is talk her out of going, but that probably won’t happen. I know she’s been looking forward to it.

  Would it be bad of me to use her concern for her friend as a reason to stay?

  Here.

  With me.

  As I’m leaving the field house, I notice her slip behind the bushes not far from the door. I’m going to say something witty, but then I see Dawson get into a limo with Whitney and Rachel and leave.

  Why did they leave without her?

  Did she decide not to go? Is that why she’s hiding? She didn’t want them to see her?

  Wait, did she and Dawson break up?

  I want to jump for joy and then kiss her, but her body language changes. Her shoulders slump forward in defeat, and I realize she’s not happy about whatever just transpired.

  “Why are we hiding in the bushes?” I whisper. “And why did they just leave without you?”

  As she turns around, her chest brushes across mine—the unmistakable jolt of energy I know we both feel every time we touch causing her to hop backwards and almost fall into the bushes. I reach out and grab her, holding her upright.

  Tears fill her gorgeous eyes.

  “Whitney told me right before the game was over that even though I was sitting there when she asked, I wasn’t invited. Then she said something nasty about me being Dawson’s flavor of the week and how he’s going to hook up with Rachel. I was going to cancel on him anyway. I have a car coming to pick me up in the morning, and then I’m going to New York. I guess Dawson is still mad at me about today. Or maybe Whitney is right, and I am just the flavor of the week.”

  I listen to her every word, thrilled that she’s standing here in my arms, but mad that my sister and her friends could be so mean.

  “You know, you’re even beautiful when you cry,” I say, brushing a few tears from her cheek.

  “If this is the new and improved Aiden, I like him better already. I just don’t get why Dawson would leave. He bought me a key-to-his-heart necklace a while ago. He says he really likes me. But then he does this? Just leaves? Is that what they do, Aiden? Is this just a game to them?”

  “It all seems kind of odd, especially after what Dawson said to me at halftime.”

  “He got mad you stopped to check on me, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah, he was really pissed.”

  “It was nice of you. I’m pretty much exhausted. I can’t wait to go to sleep.”

  I move us out of the bushes and walk her to her dorm. I want to invite her to mine. I don’t want her to be alone.

  But her body language is telling me otherwise. If she’s like my sister, she probably wants to go cry in private. The girl has had a rough day—first her friend and now this.

  But I want her to know I’m here for her. Always.

  I give her a kiss on the cheek. “If you hear anything about your friend, let me know, okay?”

  “Okay. Night, Aiden.”

  “Night, Boots,” I say with a smirk, then pat her on the back—a redo of the end of our twenty-nine dances night.

  “Very funny,” she says as she walks into her dorm.

  But at least I made her smile.

  I’d kick his ass.

  11:30pm

  I go to my dorm and flip on the twinkle lights I put up for her—feeling hopeful. She and Dawson will be over after this, and I want to ask her to Homecoming—this weekend while Dawson is gone. I just need to figure out the perfect way.

  I close my eyes and run through all the ways I’ve seen girls get asked over the years, but none of them are right. My train of thought switches to how vulnerable she looked today in the chapel.

  How she practically curled up into my lap.

  How she turns me on.

  My phone rings, startling me. When I see it’s her, I feel like I just got caught. That she knows I’m thinking about her.

  “Is your friend okay?” I ask.

  “Yes. I just got good news.”

  “I’m glad. I've been praying for that all day.”

  “Me too. Thanks for today, Aiden. For talking—well, for listening to me and for getting us out of trouble for skipping.”

  A Facebook notification dings in my ear. I move my phone in front of my face to see it. Whitney has posted a photo of Dawson kissing Rachel’s cheek in the limo.

  “Wow. That hurts,” she says.

  “What hurts?” I ask, hoping she didn’t just see it.

  “Whitney just posted a photo of Dawson kissing Rachel.”

  “Only on the cheek. I just saw.”

  She starts to cry again then chokes out, “I have to go, Aiden.”

  “Wait,” I say, but it’s too late. She’s already hung up on me.

  Shit.

  My instant reaction is to want to fix everything for her, and since I can’t change what’s going on with her friend, I’m only left with one choice. Because no matter how much I want her and Dawson to be over, I can’t stand to see her hurt. And I’m pretty sure I’m the only one she told about what happened.