Love Me

“Oh, that’s dreamy. I’m so excited for neon day and the black light pep rally tomorrow afternoon. Do you have an outfit pla

Maggie, A

“Dawson’s.”

“Dawson’s? I thought Brooke was wearing his?”

“No, she’s wearing Brad’s.”

“Oh,” I say.

Peyton wraps an arm around me. “It will piss Whitney off. But wait until I get Super Cooper. That will really piss her off.”

“Super Cooper?”

“Yeah, a body like that and he’s got to be like Superman between the sheets.”

“Peyton!” A

“And I seriously need to be taught,” Peyton says, while Maggie and I snicker.

“Let’s go decorate!” Katie yells.

Friday, November 4th

The happy trail.

Breakfast

I wake up early, dress myself in neon, put my hair back into a ponytail, and then rush to meet Aiden in the café.

He’s already here.

And he looks so adorable. He’s got on a bright orange sweatshirt, white athletic shorts, and gold aviators. He hands me a folded up jersey to wear tonight. I open it up and look at the number one. The name Arrington across the back.

And, yes, I go there. Keatyn Arrington. 

Doesn’t that sound pretty?

“So I heard Dawson isn’t going to be here this weekend.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Peyton. She’s his escort but he’s not going to the banquet.”

“Yeah, he’s going home with his parents.”

“I heard he’s going to party with his brother.”

“Yes, that too. I don’t want to talk about Dawson. Have you seen your locker?”

“Not yet. Did you decorate it for me?”

“I don’t know.” I smile. “All these traditions are new to me.”

He leans closer to me and says sexily, “I have an important tradition that I need your help with.”

“Oh, really? What kind of tradition?”

He responds by taking off his orange sweatshirt.

I swear to all the gods on Mount Olympus that someday I am going to run my tongue down those abs. Follow the happy trail all the way down . . .

“Uh, what? Did you say something?”

He flashes me a knowing grin. “Yes. I said that it’s your job to paint this neon stuff on me for the pep rally.”

“Are you going to be shirtless for the pep rally?”

“Yeah, the cheerleaders asked me to be in their skit.” He tosses the orange sweatshirt over his shoulders like a cape. “I’m Super Cougar.”

“I hate cheerleaders,” I mutter under my breath.

“I heard that.” He bats his brown eyelashes at me and says, “Would you prefer one of them paint me?”

“No!” I say, grabbing a paintbrush out of his hand. “I’ll do it. I’m really good at art.”

Like, sorta.

I mean, I have painted my own toenails in a crisis situation.

He holds up small tubes of yellow, orange, and green neon paint.

I run up to the food line, grab a paper plate, and then squeeze the paint onto it.

“Did they tell you what they wanted?”

“I think just stripes here and there.”

“Okay.” I dip the brush in his water bottle then into the paint. I carefully place the brush on the end of his collarbone, trace it over his shoulder, then slowly down his arm to his hand. Going over each and every muscle. I repeat the procedure on his other side, using the orange instead of the neon yellow.

Then I run stripes of color straight across his stomach, the brush slowly gliding across all the places my mouth longs to be.

Aiden shifts uncomfortably.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask, standing back up from where I was kneeling in front of him.

“Uh, no,” he says, clearing his voice.

I brush more paint onto his skin directly above his waistband where his shorts are riding low on his hips.

He groans a little and then steals the paintbrush out of my hand. “Your turn.”

“My turn . . .” I start to say as he quickly paints stripes across my cheeks.

I stick my finger in the paint and run it down the sides of his cheeks. Making him look like a warrior god getting ready for battle.

He adds more paint down the sides of my arms.

I move my neon sunglasses from the top of my head down to cover my eyes. “I can’t be seen with all this paint on my face,” I tease.

Then he sets the paintbrush down, curls up his fist, places it gently under my chin, and kisses me.

The sexual one.

Lunch

I'm walking toward the café when Dawson grabs me. “We need to talk,” he says.

He has my hand and is dragging me toward our bench.

“Do you know what today is?”

“Friday. The big Compass Cup game day. Are you nervous?”

“It’s our two month a

“Oh.”

“Are you in love with him?”

I rub my hand across my eyebrow and slump my shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t know what I’m go

“If you’re asking me if it’s okay to hook up with some girl, I’m going to give you the same advice you gave me. When you feel like you want to, you will.”

“I don’t feel like I want to. But then, I do.”

“Dawson, just the fact that we can sit calmly and talk about this should probably tell us both something.”

“That we’re better off as friends?”

“Probably.”

“You made me believe in love again.”

“I was broken too. Still am. Love sucks. Or maybe I just suck.”

Dawson grins at me and jabs his elbow teasingly into my side. “I always liked that about you.”

“Happy A

“Sit with me at lunch, today?”

“Okay.”

“Whoever you date better be good with us being friends.”

“I won’t date them if they’re not.”

As we walk back to the café, I say, “I heard Peyton is your escort.”

“She wants to piss off Whitney.”

“I think pissing Whitney off is a bad idea. Why do you keep sitting at her table, Dawson? Jake’s left. Really, everyone’s left.”

“They’ll be back. It’s always been our table.”

I wa

Pep rally

The football guys are getting set up for their speeches.

As I walk by Ace, Dawson, and Logan with my pompoms, Logan calls out, “Keatyn, wait! I want you to have one of these.” He flashes a clover tattoo at me from the stack in his hand.

“What’s with all the fucking clovers?” Dawson asks.

“Shouldn’t they be cougar paws?” Ace adds.

“They’re for luck,” Logan tells them both. “Don’t you wa

“I wa

I raise an eyebrow at them.

“Oh,” Ace says. “I mean, uh, you know. With the big victory.”

I roll my eyes and walk away.

Logan follows me. “These are for the team, but I saved you one.”

He pours some water on a paper towel then looks me over.

“Right there,” he says, pointing to my hip, right above where my other tattoo is.

As he’s putting the tattoo on me, I say, “That’s right above my other tattoo.”

“You have a tattoo?”

“Yeah.” I pull down the waistband of my neon green dance skirt and show him.

“What’s that mean?”

“It stands for chaos.”

“Luck and chaos. Perfect.”

“Why is it perfect?”

“Because we’ve lost the last three years ru

“Chaos in Co

Maggie walks by without saying anything, so I grab her.

“Can Maggie have one?”

Logan looks her up and down and smirks. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

“I think she needs one more than you do.”

He nods. “You can have mine, Maggie.”

“Hold still, Maggie,” I boss. “He’ll put it in the same spot as mine.”