Love Me

“Is this what you want? Is this the position you want to be in?”

There’s a knock on his door. “Mr. Steele,” Whitney says. “I really need to confer with you.”

“Just a moment,” he says, still holding me down on the desk. “Is this the position you want to be in?” he asks again.

“No,” I whimper.

“Then you need to do what I say.”

“Yes,” I say as he pushes harder.

“Get to class. I’ll go through the school’s security and figure out a plan for you.”

“Um, okay.”

I walk out of his office door, suddenly feeling like I can’t breathe.

I run outside and down to the track, where I sprint until I can’t sprint anymore.

Then I sit down on the ground and cry.

Because I just realized that next time I probably won’t get away.

Are you effing kidding me?

6:10pm

“So, we’re alone. Out on the highway. Anything come to mind?”

I’m in the car with Dawson. He’s got the radio turned up and his hand on my knee.

I think for a second. And, well, no. Nothing comes to mind. “Uh?”

“I’m driving. You maybe wa

Then I get it.

He wants road head. Are you effing kidding me?

“That sounds very romantic.”

But I don’t do anything to him. Instead, I look out the passenger-side window and fight back tears.

I don’t win the fight.

I turn to face him. “Hey, I’m not feeling well. Will you take me back to school, please?”

He sees my tears. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Oh, wait. Did you think I was serious? I was just joking.”

“No, you weren’t. You didn’t open the car door for me. You didn’t make any plans for tonight. And your idea of romance is asking me to blow you while you drive. This isn’t go

He lets out a big sigh, pulls off the side of the road, and turns to me. “Keatie, I was just joking. Can we not joke and have fun anymore? We had sex the other night. It was amazing, like always.”

“I’m sorry. But I shouldn’t have. It’s not fair to you.”

“How is it not fair to me?”

“Because it’s giving you the wrong impression. It makes you think things are okay with our relationship when they’re not.”

“I’ve done stuff for you. Homecoming. The key necklace.”

“I know you have. We just never dated. And that’s not your fault. I never gave you the chance to woo me. We slept together fast. Then thought we were in love. Then . . . Well, then it was over. I know we complicated things by sleeping together the other night. I just wanted to feel close to you again. But I also want to feel close to you in ways other than sex. Maybe we shouldn’t sleep together until we figure this out.”

“You’re right. We probably shouldn’t. Keatie, I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you either.”

He pulls me into his arms and kisses me. They are sweet I’m sorry kisses.

Kisses that get all mixed up with my tears.

As usual with our kisses, they quickly turn from sweet to full of desire.

He pushes his seat back and pulls me over, so I’m on his lap, straddling him.

Pretty soon we’re doing exactly what we just decided we shouldn’t do.

And it feels amazing.

“Just so you know, I’m taking you to a cool little place for di

“Really?” I say and start crying again.

“Why does that make you cry?”

I sniffle, crying through the words. “Because it means I don’t have to feel bad about what we just did.”

“You feel bad? How can you feel bad about something that felt so good?”

“Because it’s not that simple.”

“How much simpler can it get, Keatie? We have sex. Amazing, mind-blowingly good sex. I’m sorry if I haven’t made a big deal of going out on dates. I did ask you to Homecoming in a big way. I pla

I nod, dry my tears, and feel so much better.

He drives a bit farther and takes me to a hole in the wall. The outside is rundown, needs painting and needs a new sign. But I notice the parking lot is packed.

It’s a casual Mexican restaurant and there’s a long line of people waiting to get in, but Dawson walks up to the front, shakes a guy’s hand, and motions for me to follow him.

The guy leads us through the restaurant and then out a sliding glass door.

Now I see why the place is so packed.

There is a huge courtyard under a glass roof. The glass roof is sparkling clean, and you can see the clouds floating by as the sun turns them various shades of pink. There are little twinkle lights everywhere, across the beams on the glass ceiling and in the huge potted trees.

We are seated at a table that is set between a couple trees and has a feeling of seclusion.

Dawson pulls out my chair for me and grins at me as I sit down.

“This place is very cool. How did you ever find it?”

“I wanted to take you somewhere special. I’ve been looking up restaurants all afternoon.”

I lean over and kiss him. “Thank you.”

A Mariachi band strolls up to our table and start serenading us.

Dawson looks irritated, hands one of the dudes a wad of cash, and shoos them away.

We get to the game a bit late.

The scoreboard shows that the second quarter has just started and we’re down by a touchdown.

It starts to sprinkle rain.

The rain gets harder, the field gets muddier, and Dawson holds me tighter.

Pretty soon, it’s the end of the game.

The score is tied.

Only a few ticks left on the clock.

Aiden walks onto the field to kick the wi

He looks at the goal post. Lines up the kick. Then he stops and looks dead at me.

He does a complicated-looking thing with his hands. His thumbs and pointer fingers form touching double O’s. Then the rest of his fingers form sort of a bridge above the O’s.

Sort of like you would make a heart with your hands. But I have no idea what it’s supposed to be.

The ball is snapped. Logan lines up the laces and Aiden kicks the ball straight through the goal posts.

The guys rush out on the field to congratulate him as the crowd cheers.

At midnight, I’m lying in bed, trying to mimic what he did with his hands.

When all of a sudden, I see it.

My phone buzzes, startling me.

Hottie God:  You need to sneak out tonight to congratulate me. 

Me:  That thing you did, before you kicked it. Was it supposed to be a four-leaf clover?

Hottie God: The Cave. One hour. 

This is crazy. I really shouldn’t go.

But I’m going to.

Take off your pants.

1am

It’s stopped raining, but is still cloudy, damp, and chilly. I trudge back through the trees, getting my boots all covered with mud.

Aiden isn’t here yet, so I sit down on a stump, realizing too late that it’s very wet. And now, so are the back of my sweats and even my underwear.

Is there anything worse, really, than a damp ass?

This is not very romantic.

I hear the brush moving and get a momentary rush of worry about getting caught out here after curfew.

But the tree limbs part, and Aiden walks into the clearing carrying a Burberry sleeping bag.

“No way I’m sleeping outside in this weather,” I tease.

“The backing is waterproof, so we won’t get wet when we sit down.”

“Too late for that.” I turn around and show him my wet backside.

“There’s nothing worse than a damp ass,” he says. Which are the exact words I just thought a few seconds ago.

Oh, the fates are so toying with me.

He spreads out the sleeping bag with the shiny side down, kicks his shoes off, then stands on top of it and starts taking off his sweatpants.

Uh, holy shit.

What is this?

I watch though.

He has the best legs at school. They have just enough light blond hair to be masculine, but not enough to be hairy.