Kiss Me

He frowns and says, “Well, here we are.”

We’re standing outside my dorm.

He pats me on the back of my shoulder and says, “See ya later, Boots.”

What’s up with that?

A pat on the back?

I’m not sure what happened between kissing in his room and saying goodbye, but I’m pretty sure he’s mad at me.

Seriously, a pat on the back?

I get in my dorm and check my phone.

I have a text from Riley. One from Tyrese with the party info. One from Dallas asking if I’ll take him to the party.

I pla

Me:  I did get invited to the party, but I’d rather chill. Meet me at the Cave at 1?

Dallas:  Will do. And will bring party favors ;)

Me:  I was hoping you would :) Just don’t bring Riley, okay? 

Dallas:  Why? You two were getting down on the dance floor. Although after you left he was getting down with pretty much everyone. Some chick named Audrey, in particular.

Me:  I just want to relax. Who did you dance with?

Dallas:  Just a bunch of people. No one special. So what happened with Aiden?

Me:  We danced, kissed, sorta made out a little but, then, it all went to shit :( I’ll tell you about it when I see you.

It wasn’t awful.

1am

I get to the cave. I figured other people would be here, but I find Dawson sitting on a stump alone, looking sad. He looks up at me and, I swear, I might have seen tears in his eyes.

I feel bad for him because I know it too. Love sucks.

“Tough day, huh?” I say quietly.

He runs his hand back through his hair and then rubs his hands down his face. “Yeah. Shitty day. Are there a bunch of people coming here tonight?”

“I don’t think so. Only me and Dallas that I know of.”

“I can’t handle being friends with her.”

“With Whitney?”

“Yeah. I was watching her dance with Jake tonight. I wanted to alternately kill him, kill her, and kill myself.”

“Peyton asked me about our kiss.”

“She was gathering information for Whitney. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know. And it’s okay. I told her you were really drunk and that I stopped it. I mean everyone saw that I stopped it. Although I didn’t tell her how horrible it was. Maybe I should have?”

“You’re not exactly cheering me up here.”

“I let her know it meant nothing. That’s all that really matters. And Peyton told me what happened with you and Whitney. I’m sorry. It would suck to get dumped like that, but at least it had nothing to do with you.”

“What do you mean it had nothing to do with me?”

“It was a status thing. Peyton got a college boyfriend. Whitney wanted one too.”

“That’s why she dumped me?”

“Yes.”

“We dated for almost three years. We were in love.”

Could he really not know how manipulative she is? If he doesn’t, then she’s an even better Alpha than I thought. I should be more careful.

“You were like last year’s Prada bag. She wanted the new bag.”

“I don’t get it.”

Hmmm, let’s use terms he can understand. “Let’s put it this way. You were a Porsche Carrera. Whitney loved driving you. You looked sexy. But then one day, Peyton pulls up in a Ferrari. The Ferrari was better, so even though she loved you, she had to trade you in on a Bugatti Veyron.

“Oh. What a bitch.” He is quiet for a minute. “The breakup hurt.”

“I can tell it hurt. I’m sorry. I also know how you feel. I had someone do the same thing to me recently.”

“You got traded in too?”

“Different reason, but same hurt.”

He looks at me with the most adorably sweet eyes.

“I’m sorry you got hurt too. What you said about my brother earlier, that really true?”

I laugh. “No. I was teasing. Besides, I’ve know him for three freaking days.”

“Yeah, but you’re hurt, and this is all new and exciting. Trust me, it will get old and boring pretty fast.”

“So have you tried to get her back?”

“Ye-ah. All the time. She won’t listen to me. Says we can be friends. I can’t be her friend.”

“So you’ve apologized?”

“Apologized for what? You said I didn’t do anything.”

“Sure you did. You suddenly weren’t good enough. It pissed her off and forced her hand. She hated that she had to break up with you. You were the golden couple. Then, to top it off, when she dumped you, you started hooking up with everyone, anyone. Now she couldn’t get back with you even if she wanted to. Unless . . .”

“What the fuck? What do you mean unless?”

“Unless you earn back your golden status. What Aiden said last night when you were touching my top. You been acting like that a lot lately?”

“We just got back to school!”

“This summer maybe? Last spring?”

He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, maybe. So what am I supposed to do? Go without girls to try and prove something to her?”

“I think maybe that’s exactly what you need to do.”

“No. I can’t freaking win.”

“What if you could?”

“What do you mean?”

“I think your image needs a makeover.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Dallas creeps up and whispers, “Hey, y’all.” He sits down next to me and wraps me in a big hug. “I love you already, you know that?”

“Hey, I need love too,” Dawson says, so Dallas and I jump on him, knock him to the ground, and hug him exaggeratedly.

Dallas says, “So tonight was good, then went to shit. What happened with Aiden?”

“Yeah, what happened with Aiden?” Dawson asks.

“Well, he took me to his dorm room, opened the door, and he had put lights up on the ceiling and had rose petals on the floor, and seriously, I was pissed. Here he had been telling me he wanted to dance with me, made it sound all romantic, and I walk into this huge seduction scene.”

“So you don’t want to do it with Aiden?” Dallas asks.

“Well, not yet! Not until I know if he likes me, and we go out, and fall in love or something. Like it’d be a while, for sure! Especially since I’m not falling in love with anyone here. I am so done with love. And, after last night, I thought we were done, but then he scored the points for me. So we danced, and he kissed his amazing kisses. But still, no making out. No tongues. No hands. Nothing. Then he decides to pop the champagne, and then he does this really sweet toast. By fucking Keats.”

“What’s wrong with Keats? I thought girls love that poetry shit,” Dawson says.

And Dallas is like, “Does that have something to do with the surfer?”

“Yeah. He used to call me his Keats, and he always quoted Keats poetry to me. And he did one about nothing becoming real until you experience it and that was right before we first had sex. Not that long ago.”

Dawson lowers his voice. “Oh, dude, bad move, huh? Like, mood killer?”

“Ya think? I froze. Then I slammed two glasses of champagne. He didn’t know. And his quote was sweet, like about bliss and kisses.”

Dallas laughs and nudges me with his elbow. “So, then did he try to get down and dirty?”

“No! We kissed. But his hands stayed put.”

“You can kiss me. I promise my hands won’t stay put,” Dallas shoots back.

“That goes for me too.” Dawson grins.

“You,” I say, pointing to Dawson, “are done with the random hookups. No kissing. No sex. You are a good boy from now on.”

Dallas rolls out a blanket for us. “So, that sounded okay. Why don’t you think he likes you?”

“Because then he asked why my face went white when he said the quote and I told him. He asked me if I had sex with the guy and if I loved him. I told him he was my first love, and he’d always be special. Then he looked pissed at me. Then he patted my shoulder and said, See ya later, Boots. What does that mean? Does he like me or hate me?”