Date Me

I want to make my parents proud too.

He stands in front of me and wipes a tear from my cheek. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m just really proud of you, Aiden. You should have seen your mom. She teared up and beamed when you won. I just think it’s really cool that you risked making a fool of yourself for her. You did it for her, right?”

“I did it for all the people that I love. Did you love it?”

“Everyone loved it. You got a freaking standing ovation.”

“That’s not what I asked. Did you love it?”

I take a deep breath, so that I won’t start crying. “I loved it, Aiden. I really loved it.”

I get the grin. The grin that grows into the megawatt, brighter-than-the-sunset smile. “I want you to meet my parents,” he says. He takes ahold of my elbow and guides me through the crowd that is still trying to congratulate him.

“Mom, Dad, this is Keatyn Monroe. She’s the girl I told you about.”

Told them about?

Shit. What did he tell them? That he hates me most of the time?

That I’m a freaking soccer-ball-stealing, boot-wearing, French-speaking lunatic?

Aiden’s mom holds out her hand. As we shake, Aiden’s dad says, “We understand Aiden’s French has improved because of you.”

Tutoring. Thank god. He just told them I’m his tutor.

I smile. “Yes, but we still have a long way to go. Especially if he’s going to get to our goal of a B.”

Aiden’s mom smiles. “We heard you’re taking him to France to celebrate when that happens.”

I look at Aiden. My eyes search his for answers. He told his parents that?

He gives me a sly grin.

“He sort of tricked me into agreeing to that,” I say honestly.

His mother laughs. “He’s had that gift since he was a little boy. He smiles that dang smile and looks at you with those big green eyes and he can get away with anything.”

“Mom!” Aiden says, laughing. “Don’t give away all my secrets.”

“Oh, that one I already know,” I say with a laugh of my own. I like his mom already.

Peyton interjects, “Yeah, he never got into trouble. He’d always make Mom laugh or he’d kiss her on the nose and get out of it. It never worked for me.”

Peyton’s dad laughs. “Give us a break. You may not know how to work your Mom, but you have your daddy wrapped around your little finger.”

Peyton beams and gives her dad a hug.

Aiden says, “Well, I supposed I better get out of this makeup and ready for the game.”

“Oh, I have to get going too. It was nice to meet you both.”

Aiden and I turn and walk away in the same direction. “Your parents are great.”

He nods. “Yeah, they are. I’m lucky. Everyone has been complaining about their families coming. I couldn’t wait to see mine. I bet it’s hard not having yours here. Hey, who is going to walk you onto the field?”

“It is, but my uncle is coming.”

We get to the boys’ locker room and as he heads through the door I sort of whisper, “Good luck, Aiden.”

He hears me, stops, does a one-eighty, and comes back to me. He pulls up the sleeve of the black leotard he’s wearing. On his arm is a marker drawn four-leaf clover.

“That looks like . . .”

“Points for dances, Round 3? I had someone draw it to match your note. I needed some of that luck today.”

He still has my note? Of course, I still have the real clover he gave me. It’s pressed between the pages of my Keats poetry book.

“Why did you need luck?”

“Probably because I risked making a fool out of myself. I’m glad I did it though. It was exhilarating. Is that how you felt when you went ru

I laugh. “Yeah, kinda.”

“That was really brave. New girl. New school. To take that chance.”

“Maybe, but what you did was braver. Changing people’s perception of you is a lot harder than making a first impression.”

“Well, since I’m feeling lucky. What do you say? Points for Dances, Round 4?”

“I can’t do that, but . . .” I reach out and trace the outline of the four-leaf clover. “I do wish you and the team lots of luck.”

It seems kind of mean.

6pm

I go to the dance room, change into my game outfit, and get ready for the fun surprise we have for the alumni tailgate. I get a text from Garrett letting me know that he’s here. I text him back and let him know where to meet up with me.

I know he’s not my family. I know that he’s being paid a lot to help me, but I also know that Garrett runs a very large and successful security firm. I know that he’s taken a special interest in my case. I know that he cares.

I spot him. He’s looking really handsome in his charcoal pinstriped suit. I never really paid much attention, but Garrett is really quite good looking. And, apparently, Miss Praline has already noticed this. She is totally chatting him up.

“Do you know Melissa?” Garrett asks me.

“Melissa and I do know each other. She is also Miss Praline, my French teacher.”

Garrett grabs her hand, kisses it, and starts speaking to her in French.

He’s so flirting with her.

And she is totally swooning.

It’s really, really cute.

“Um, Miss Praline,” I say, as I pat Garrett on the back. “My uncle, Garrett, really doesn’t know anyone. Do you think he could sit with you during the game? I have to go now and do a dance thing, and I’ll be out on the field during the game.”

Garrett grins at me and Miss Praline gets all flustered. “Well, um, of course, I wouldn’t want your, uh, uncle, to get lost or anything.”

Ha! I doubt Garrett ever gets lost. He probably has a full recon poster of the school’s building plans on his cell phone.

“That would be great.” I give my uncle a hug, then point and say, “We’ll meet right over there to line up when there are two minutes left in the half.”

“Sounds good. I’m looking forward to it.”

There’s a wide pathway ru

I walk casually over to a tent and pretend to be interested in what they are doing.

Someone turns up a great song. Which is my cue. I walk out into the pathway and start doing a line dance to the music. I’m the only one out here, so people are turning to stare.

After a few lines of the song, Peyton and Maggie come out to dance with me.

Pair by pair, dancers join in the dance, and pretty soon a lot of the alumni dancers join in too, then some of the crowd.

By the end of the song, the pathway is full of people dancing with us.

After the flash mob, Peyton runs up to me, flushed and beaming. “That was so much fun. You did a great job starting it.”

“A great job making a fool out of myself, you mean?”

“Speaking of fools, what did you think of Aiden’s dance?”

“It was really good. So, does Whitney know about Cam or your dress yet?”

“Are you kidding? I made sure to parade him in front of her the second he arrived. I know she’s mad, but it’s not like she can say anything about it. And no, she doesn’t know about my dress. I want that to be a surprise.”

“That seems kind of mean, Peyton. I think you should tell her.”

“I don’t think it’s any of her business what I wear.”

“That’s true, but—“

She holds her hand up. “No. I don’t want to hear it. I’m going to do what I want to do.”

“Yeah, but . . .”

“I’m not listening.”

I really want to tell her that this is going to blow up in her face. That someone will end up getting hurt in the crossfire. That her boyfriend will get drugged. That she’ll turn into a bitch. That her secret will come out.

But I know she won’t listen.

Maybe it’s a lesson you have to learn on your own.

Excitement in the air.

Halftime.

At halftime, I change into my formal gown, then meet Garrett just outside the field house. We gather with the other Court members waiting for the processional. The game has been going in our favor. We’re up by fourteen already and you can feel the excitement in the air.