Date Me

Me: Which part was really fun?

Dawson: The gummy lifesaver part.

Me: Who knew they the stretched like that.

Dawson: You knew.

Me: Only because I overheard a couple of the girls from dance talking about it. I’ve never tried anything like that before.

Dawson: Me either. It was sweet.

Me: It did make it sweeter. LMAO.

Dawson: It’s just really cool that you wanted to try it with me. I love you. Seriously. Love you.

Me: I love you too.

Dawson: Jake says everyone is partying at the Cave tonight. You going?

Me: Yeah, later. I have to help Aiden with French first, since I ditched him today for gummy lifesavers and won’t be here all weekend. We have an oral test on Monday. But he has plans and I’m going to the party, so I’m sure we’ll get through it fast.

Dawson: Oral test? You better not be tutoring him with gummy lifesavers.

Me: You’re bad. And, no. Definitely nothing like that for Aiden. I miss you already.

Dawson: Ugg. My mom says I need to put my phone away and talk to them. Which means they are going to grill me about you, Riley, Ariela, what Cam has been up to, blah, blah.

Me: I miss my parents. Talk to them. They’re dropping you off at Cam’s tonight, right?

Dawson: Yeah, we’re going to a party.

Me: I’m jealous.

Dawson: I’ll probably be texting you the whole time. I love you.

Me: I heart you.

Where’s the harem?

1am

It seems like I just shut my eyes and all of a sudden Katie’s phone alarm is going off.

She pops out of bed, pulls her jeans on, and practically dives out the window. “I’ll see you at the Cave, okay?”

“Sure,” I say. I peek at my clock, see it’s a few minutes to one, and try to figure out what I want to wear. Dawson won’t be here to keep me warm, so I throw on a long-sleeved Free People thermal shirt and some Rag & Bone jean shorts. I look at the Golden Goose boots that Cush gave me. They’d be perfect with this outfit.

I haven’t worn them since he told me his mom bought them. I’ve been sort of mad at them.

I pick the boots up and run my hand across the leather.

It’s not their fault that Cush lied. It really doesn’t matter how they became mine, what matters is what I thought. That these boots are everything I want to be.

I put the boots down on the floor and slide my feet into them.

Perfect.

My hear a little knock on my window and know it’s Aiden.

I climb out the window, laughing at how easily I glide out now. How different my life is now than when school started.

My boots should hit the ground about now, but instead I find myself sliding down Aiden’s body as he catches me.

“What are you doing?” I say madly. I don’t want to be in his stupid arms.

“Just catching you,” he says sweetly.

It’s really hard to be mad at someone that looks the way he does. Tonight, with the moonlight shining down on him, he almost looks angelic.

Asshole.

I try to push out of his arms, but he holds me tightly. “You can let go now,” I say.

He drops me to the ground and looks down at my feet. “You’re wearing boots.”

“I wear boots all the time.”

“Not those boots. You haven’t worn those since the day we met.”

How does he even know that?

I roll my eyes. “I’ve been sort of mad at them.”

He tilts his head to the side and squints his eyes at me. “Mad at your boots? You can’t be mad at those boots.”

“I’m not anymore. We made up.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. Let’s get French done so we can go party.”

His hand curves across the small of my back.

Electricity shoots straight up my spine, causing me to arch my back and jump away from him.

“You’re awfully jumpy tonight.”

“Stop touching me then,” I state a little too emphatically.

He stops touching me and leads me to the chapel, which is apparently open all night. I think I knew that, but had forgotten it.

We study in a very business-like fashion. Our test on Monday has a speaking portion, so mostly we work on his word enunciation.

“I think I’ve got it. I’ll keep working on it this weekend, but at least I know the proper way to say everything now.” He looks at his phone, which is loaded with texts. From girls. And Logan and Nick. And girls. “I better get going.”

“Um, okay. Yeah, me too,” I say, glancing at my phone like there’s something important in it. All my friends begging for me to get there. Unfortunately, there are no texts from anyone.

My friends suck.

When we get to the clearing known as The Cave, Aiden says, “Thanks for helping me. Have a good night.”

I watch him go over to where Nick and Logan are standing. A cheerleader that I don’t really know wraps her arms around Aiden's neck in a greeting.

I study her. Wondering if that’s what Aiden's dream girl looks like.

She's petite, with long dark hair, and a sweet smile. Her eyes are small and just a little too close together, but other than that she has a nicely proportioned face. And a body. A killer body. That kind of curvy body that boys love and I couldn’t get with the best plastic surgeon in all of Beverly Hills.

I look around.

All my friends are paired off. Which explains their lack of texts. A

Jake has his arm wrapped around Whitney. She’s smoking a cigarette and he’s drinking whiskey straight out of a bottle.

My eyes flit back to Aiden and the girl.

“S’up, girly,” Shark says, wandering over to stand next to me.

He appears to be a little tipsy, but his eyes follow mine straight to Aiden.

“Is she the dream girl?” I ask him.

“Chelsea? No.”

“She seems to like him.”

Shark laughs. "All the girls like him."

I watch as another girl bounces up to Aiden, shoves her boobs out, and hands him a shot. They click glasses and slam the shots together. Then she starts dancing in front of him. Grabbing his hands and trying to get him to dance with her.

“It appears that they do.” I say, realizing I’ve never seen this side of Aiden. He’s flirting. Laughing. Drinking. Doing shots. He even does a little arm shimmy, which gets the girls all worked up.

He, Nick, and Logan are literally surrounded by girls.

Weird.

“So who do you think will be Homecoming Queen? I’m having a tough time with the odds,” Shark admits.

“Why?”

“Because history suggests that Whitney will win. Every other Clarke has won. But there are other factors.”

“What factors?”

“My personal opinion is supposed to stay out of the odds. I always look at the facts. But the fact is, I don’t care for Whitney much. I’d rather see Mariah or Peyton win. Also, the freshman class is large this year, and I have no idea how they will vote. One would think based on Whitney’s lack of activities, it would give Peyton and Mariah an advantage.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

He leans his head close to mine. “Will it affect the odds?” He pulls out a flask, takes a swig, and hands it to me.

I nod my head as I take a swig. When the alcohol hits my throat, I want to spit it out. It burns all the way down to my stomach. “What is this?”

“Everclear. Hundred proof. Fastest way to get drunk.”

“Are you trying to get drunk fast?”

He gives me a wide smirk. “No, but I have been known to share with an attractive female or two.”

I laugh. “I see. Trying to get the girl drunk fast.”

“So, tell me the secret.”

“Ninety percent of the freshman class voted for me for Student Council. I never would have gotten on it otherwise. And I was thinking . . .”