Aiden Page 5

  After a few minutes, she puts her phone in her bag and walks toward me, but she seems caught up in thought. When I realize she hasn’t even noticed me, I step directly in front of her.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Huh?” she says, distractedly. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine. My friend is safe. It’s all good.” But I know she’s lying. She’s upset about something else. She reaches out and touches my arm. “Hey, I heard you were the one who told Riley about what Whitney did. That was really nice.”

  “Well, I promised to be nice to you. Will you meet me in my room tonight for tutoring?”

  “I appreciate it, Aiden. And, uh, sure.”

  We walk through the lunch line together but sit at different tables, her taking a spot next to my sister, who told me earlier today that Dawson didn’t ask Keatyn to Homecoming this weekend.

  I don’t even feel jealous that she’s going to sit with Dawson at lunch. In a few short hours, I’ll be asking her to Homecoming.

  I set my lunch tray down next to Parker and across from Logan.

  Alicia and Ashley set their trays down on the table and take the two empty seats next to Logan.

  Alicia runs her hand through Logan’s hair and then kisses him.

  I glance at Maggie, who frowns and looks away, even though Parker is holding her hand.

  The Dean stands up in front of us and taps on a microphone. “I have a few announcements,” he says.

  As I swivel in his direction, Ashley taps my foot under the table, getting my attention. She gives me a sexy smirk then slides her bare foot up my leg then straight toward my crotch.

  The Dean makes a few announcements that I’m not listening to, because I’m trying to get Ashley to get her damn foot off me without making a scene.

  Just as I get her to comply, I hear the Dean say, “Keatyn Monroe, it’s come to my attention that you’ve been seen canoodling around campus with Dawson Johnson.”

  Canoodling? What does that even mean?

  I turn around in my seat to face the stage at the end of the cafe. Why would the Dean say something like that in public?

  He continues. “I know you’re new, but we have very high standards here.”

  Whitney laughs so loud that the whole lunchroom can hear. “This is priceless,” she says, and my mind starts going crazy, wondering what Whitney has done now.

  Did she tell the Dean something that will get Keatyn in trouble? Is she trying to get her kicked out of school?

  I grab my phone and text my sister.

  Me: What has Whitney done?

  Peyton: I have no idea.

  Me: You have to stop it.

  The Dean continues. “You’re about to see just how high.”

  Then the room fills with the sound of stripper music. The Dean drops the microphone and starts dancing.

  And he doesn’t dance very well. I should teach him a thing or two.

  Everyone at our table is both laughing hysterically and cheering him on.

  I glance at Peyton. She shakes her head at me. She has no idea.

  The Dean sticks his index finger in his mouth then touches it to his ass. Like it’s sizzling hot.

  I can’t help but laugh, too.

  The side door opens. Jake, Riley, Bryce, Dallas, Tyrese, Ace, and some other guys on the team dance their way into the room.

  This must be some skit.

  The guys line up next to the Dean and do a striptease dance, pulling their school blazers off and tossing them to the ground.

  All the girls at our table start clapping and screaming.

  I look at Keatyn, see her shimmying to the music.

  Whitney leans over and says something into Keatyn’s ear, and I laugh as I watch Keatyn flip her the bird. Then she stands up, pumps her fist in the air, and screams.

  All the guys except for Jake strip off their oxfords—the Dean included—and swing them above their heads like lassos.

  This is crazy. And fun. My guess is this is something to boost ticket sales for the Homecoming game. But then why would the Dean have mentioned Keatyn’s name?

  Jake dances up to Keatyn and crooks his finger at her. She skips up to him as he pulls her into his hips and grinds against her.

  You’ve got to love her spontaneity. From the look on her face, she has no clue what’s going on either. They must have chosen her because they knew she’d love being on stage in front of everyone. That she’d dance and have fun. She’s not afraid to make a fool of herself.

  It’s one of the many things I love about her.

  Next thing I know, she’s unbuttoning his shirt, dropping low and shaking her ass. Jake pulls her up and puts her arms in the air then slides his hands from the tips of her fingers down the sides of her chest to her waist.

  I curl my fists into balls and swallow hard, immediately feeling jealous and wanting nothing more than to run up there and rip his hands clean off his body.

  She runs her finger down the front of his shirt.

  Jake pushes her back a little and says, “Get ready.”

  The music switches and the lyrics scream, Aaaaare yooooou readyyyyy? The crowd yells back, “YES!” Then a fast techno beat blares through the speakers.

  The Dean jumps out from the line and rips his t-shirt straight down the middle. On his white pasty chest is a red painted H.

  Jake follows suit. Ripping his shirt down the middle. On his chest is a red O.

  What? No. No. No. No.

  Riley jumps up in line and goes next. On his chest is the letter M. And on down the line, boys rip their shirts off, reveal their chests and a red letter. E. C. O. M. I. N. G.

  Dawson is asking Keatyn to Homecoming. Before I get the chance.

  This can’t be happening.

  Dawson slides in at the end of the line.

  He hands her a bouquet of pink roses, then very slowly rips his shirt off too. On his chest there is a ?

  I watch in horror as he says, “What do you say, Keatie? Will you go to Homecoming with me?”

  Please, say no. Please, say no.

  But she screams out, “Yes,” jumps into his arms, and gives him a steamy kiss.

  I can’t bear to watch, so I turn back around and stare at my lunch, feeling much like I did in my dream last night—like I was just shot in the chest and can’t breathe.

  “Wasn’t that an amazing way for Dawson to ask Keatyn to Homecoming, Aiden?” Ashley asks, rubbing it in.

  No fucking way I’m asking her.

  I get up, leaving my lunch, and march out of the cafe.

  I sit on a bench, feeling defeated and wallowing in self-pity until I see students making their way to their afternoon classes.

  I consider skipping French. How am I supposed to go sit behind her and smell her cotton-candy-scented hair every time she moves after this?

  You have a wild side.

  French

  Keatyn floats her way into class looking like she’s on cloud nine.

  I hate her.

  “Well, that was something,” I say flatly. I must be a glutton for punishment because I can’t help wondering if she would have liked my proposal better.

  She turns around and faces me. She’s beaming. Obviously, she loved the way Dawson asked.

  “Wasn’t it outrageous? The way he asked. I loved it!”

  “You like stuff like that? Being the center of attention.” I roll my eyes toward the ceiling and laugh. I’m such an idiot. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. Of course, you do. You seemed to be enjoying yourself. So, how come you never danced like that when we danced? It was pretty sexy.”

  “Oh gosh, did I look stupid?”

  “No, everyone loved how you played along. You looked shocked. Were you?”

  “I had no clue. I thought I was in trouble. Even when the Dean started dancing, I thought it was some new girl hazing or something.”

  “You have a wild side.” Something I hadn’t considered.

  “Everyone does. Do you?”

  “You have a boyfriend now. You probably won't be finding out,” I snap.

  “If I was wild, that wouldn't stop me,” she fires back.

  I gaze at her for a beat. “No, I guess it wouldn’t,” I mutter out.

  “You’re right though,” she says, practically bouncing in her seat. God, she looks beautiful. And happy. The bad part of all this is, I like seeing her happy. Even though I’m miserable. “I would never cheat, but he only asked me to Homecoming. Not to be his girlfriend.”

  Annie sits down and grabs Keatyn’s arm. “That was so adorable! I can’t believe you danced with Jake like that! Whitney was seething! It was awesome!”

  “Just before it all started, Whitney was telling me that Dawson was going to ask her to Homecoming. Telling me how they bonded in the limo. How they will be King and Queen.”

  Annie sighs. “Don’t do anything to make her mad at you, Keatyn. She’s not a nice person.”

  She nods. One would expect that after what Whitney pulled this weekend, Keatyn would already know that.

  She swivels in her seat, facing me again. “You know, it’s because of you that Dawson and I are still together. I haven’t thanked you properly, but what you did—how you told Riley. Seriously, thank you.”

  I close my eyes and swallow back my anger, grinding my pencil into my notebook instead of yelling at her for how dumb she is for being with Dawson. How she should be with me. But I can’t. Especially now that I know what’s she’s going through. I lean closer to her and whisper, “I told you in the chapel that I’m done pretend punching your head.”

  She smiles. It kills me. “I’m glad, Aiden. I don’t like when we fight.”

  I smile back. I can’t help it. But at the same time, she’s with him. He won. I lost. In fact, tonight at tutoring, I’m going to shov
e her lies in her face and threaten to tell her Homecoming date all about it. Screw it.

  “I’m done fighting,” I tell her.

  She doesn’t say anything in reply. Just slumps her shoulders, like what I said upset her, then turns around.

  Wait. Does she want me to fight for her?

  This is familiar.

  2:45pm

  I’m at football practice when I notice Keatyn running toward me, her long blonde hair flying behind her. She’s changed out of her soccer clothes and into a skimpy dance outfit.

  Damn.

  “Hey, would it be okay if we did tutoring in your room tonight?” she asks, slightly out of breath. “Everyone is talking about lunch, about how Dawson asked me to Homecoming, and I know if we go to the library we won’t get anything done because people will come up to gush about it.”

  “Uh,” I say, trying to take my eyes off her long legs. “I’m sure the library will be fine.”

  She scrunches up her nose at me, probably because usually I’m trying to get her to come to my room so we can be alone.

  But I can’t have her come to my room tonight. I have to take down the damn stars first.

  “Please,” she says with a pout, moving closer to me—so close, I can see the purple glints.

  “Oh, fine,” I say, tilting my head and watching the shake of her skirt as she walks away.

  “Seriously, Dawson is going to pummel you if you keep messing with her,” Logan says, snapping me out of my reverie and making me mentally kick myself for agreeing. I swear, it’s like her eyes have some power over me.

  “It’s just tutoring,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, sure it is. I heard what Ashley said at lunch. I’m sorry you had to watch Dawson ask Keatyn to Homecoming. I know what that feels like.”

  “Thanks. You’re right. She’s with Dawson. I need to back off,” I lie.

  I rush up the stairs, knowing I’m late, to find her sitting against the wall in front of my dorm room, her eyes closed, in the exact spot she was the night of the party when I fixed her lips. I can’t help but hope that’s what she’s thinking about right now.

  I slide down the wall next to her. “Sorry, I’m late.”

  “It’s okay,” she says with a nod. “I haven’t been waiting that long.”

  I can’t help but smile at the two of us sitting here. In the exact same spot. “This is familiar.”

  “What is?” she says, pretending not to know exactly what I’m talking about.

  “Don’t you remember the party? When I kissed you right here?” I gently touch her lips with my finger. “Fixed your lips.”

  “Yeah, I remember, Aiden,” she says with a sigh.

  She starts to get up, but I grab her arm. “Why don’t we just sit out here and study? Um, my room’s a mess.”

  “You’re such a liar,” she says, calling me on it. “Your room is always perfect.”

  I roll my eyes, knowing I need to be firm about this. “I think out here would be better.”

  “Aiden, what is in your room?”

  “I just . . . there’s something I don’t want you to see, okay?”

  She squints her eyes at me, looking curious, then gets up and opens my door.

  She looks around. Thank God, she doesn’t look up. “It looks normal.”

  Maybe she won’t even notice them. “Okay, well, let’s get to it.” I set my backpack on the ground and pull out my French workbook.

  She does the same, taking it out and setting it on my desk.

  “It’s been an exhausting, crazy day,” she says, flopping down on my bed.

  Shit. Don’t look up. Don’t look up.

  But part of me wants her to look up.

  She looks around my room again then closes her eyes and says, “Okay, so I worked on the first page of our homework during drama today. Do you want to copy it and just go over it? It’s mostly review.”

  “Uh, sure,” I reply. “Give me a minute.”

  I grab her notebook and start copying.

  “You don’t have the twinkle lights on,” she says. “It looks weird.”

  I glance up from my notebook and notice her looking at the ceiling. Spit catches in my throat, causing me to cough.

  I changed my mind. I don’t want her to see it.

  But she does. Her eyes go wide and she says, “Aiden! Oh my gosh! You put up stars. Are they the glow-in-the-dark kind? I love those! My little sisters had them all over the ceilings of their bedrooms.” She keeps studying them, apparently not realizing what it says yet. “Are they in a pattern?”

  “Yeah, they’re in a pattern.” I tap my pencil on my workbook, getting agitated. “You were the one who wanted to come here so we wouldn’t get distracted. Let’s focus on French. We have a lot to do.”

  “No. I want to see them lit up first. I’m gonna turn your lights off for a minute.”

  I immediately move to the bed, blocking her from getting up.

  I stare into her eyes, desperately trying to tell her that I love her. That she should be with me. That I spent eight hours yesterday working on this just for her.

  “What?” she says.

  “I didn’t want you to see this, but I know you won’t stop bugging me.” Because she won’t.

  “That is true. Can I turn off the lights now?” She smirks at me. She loves getting her way almost as much as I love giving it to her.

  “No. We’re gonna do this my way. Scoot over to the edge of the bed and then close your eyes.”

  I know she hates being told what to do, but for once, she complies.

  “You promise to keep them closed until I tell you to open them?” I ask. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right.

  “Sure.”

  “Okay.” I flip off the light. Then I pull down my blinds and close my blackout drapes.

  I look at her, lying perfectly still on my bed, her hair splayed out around her face. The curves of her body rising and falling in all the right places. God, she’s beautiful.

  I lie down next to her, allowing our shoulders to touch, then reach my pinkie out and take ahold of hers like it’s the most natural thing in the world—and it feels like it is. “Open your eyes now.”

  I turn to face her, watching the emotions cross her face. First, she seems to just take all the stars in, then she squints slightly, and I can tell she’s realized what it spells out. She smiles broadly, but then the smile fades, and she frowns.

  Her breathing speeds up, and she moves her hand to her stomach, clutching it.

  Not what I was expecting.

  Just as I’m about to tell her the truth, she leaps off the bed, grabs her workbook and backpack, and bounds toward my door.

  But she gets tangled up with my chair.

  She and the chair do a sort of slow-motion dance before it darts out from underneath her and sends her crashing to the ground.

  I jump off the bed to help her, but she gets up and says, “I’m fine. I’m not feeling well all of a sudden. I’m sorry. I, uh, I have to go. Call Annie if you need help.”

  Then she rushes out of the door, slamming it behind her.

  I turn on the lights, extinguishing the stars, then call Logan to see if he wants to go off campus for dinner. I can’t bear facing her again tonight. This was bad enough.

  Unfortunately for me, he invites Alicia who invites Ashley, who won’t stop talking about Homecoming. I consider taking her to my room after dinner, showing her the damn stars, and asking her.

  There’s really no reason why I shouldn’t.

  Logan invites the girls to come to our dorm before curfew. Ashley reaches out and takes my hand. I allow it this time, figuring what the heck. I’ll ask her.

  We run into Riley in the hallway. He’s carrying what appears to be a bloody sock.

  “What the hell is that?” Logan asks, the girls agreeing with a screech.

  “Keatyn fell and cut her knee. It was bleeding really bad. She had to get five stitches.”

  I drop Ashley’s hand, immediately feeling sick to my stomach. Did she cut her knee when she fell on my chair? Was she so upset that she didn’t notice how bad it was?

  Why did the stars upset her so much? Is it because she wishes she would have said no to Dawson and yes to me? Or did she think they were for someone else?

  “Um, I’m not feeling so well,” I say to everyone, rushing off to my room.