Hate Me

Logan finishes up. “Sunday afternoon, you can get involved in some games of boules and see a French film at two. Hope you enjoy all the activities we have pla

After they finish, Aiden whispers, “I need to get back to the shop. Are you going to French?”

“Probably not. I should go back to the dorm and help finish up the windows. Are you coming to di

He shakes his head. “No. I have to be in the locker room at six and there’s no way I could eat a heavy meal like that before the game.”

“I’ll miss you,” I say.

He grabs my hand and gazes into my eyes. “I’ll miss you too.”

“Will I see you before the game?”

“You go

“I don’t know. How many points do you usually score?”

“Last year I didn’t start and I averaged eleven.”

“So, how many will you score this year?”

“Not sure. Twenty, thirty, maybe. Hopefully. It might depend on how motivated I am.”

“One of the dancers said that she gives her boyfriend a—” I whisper the word in Aiden’s ear. “For every dunk he makes.”

Aiden’s fingers graze the skin just under my skirt, giving my goose bumps.

I swallow, wishing his fingers would move higher and give me something else.

“Are you offering me that?”

“Can you even dunk?”

“You doubt my skills?” he says with a laugh.

“I probably shouldn’t. I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do.”

“I can dunk. Never have in a game, though. I don’t want sexual favors for my game performance, but if I dunk, what if I get something I want?”

“Uh, what do you want?” I ask, my mind going all kinds of sexy places.

He stands up, pulling me up with him and leading me out of the cafeteria.

Once we’re away from everyone else, he backs me up against the wall, his chest pressing into mine, his knuckles pushing my chin up toward his mouth. “I want a night alone with you in my room. No parties. No hanging out. Just you and me dancing before curfew, then you sneaking over to my room after curfew and spending the night. Sleeping with me.”

I’m not sure what his definition of sleeping with him is, but I’m totally game.

“I’d do that even without a dunk,” I say, pressing my lips to his.

He grins. “I know. Maybe I just want to impress you.”

When he goes to the shop, I go to my dorm and order a huge candy gift basket and a whole bunch of chaos glow-in-the-dark temporary tattoos to send to the dancers at The Side Door with my thanks for letting me dance with them.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 3RD

Some mutual pleasure.

5:30am

Aiden’s alarm goes off at five-thirty in the morning.

He gives his phone a dirty look as I snuggle into his arms.

“No one ever checks on us in the morning. Does your house mom ever?”

“No, and even if she did, Katie would cover for me. I’m still tired. Let’s go back to sleep.”

He kisses the top of my head and runs his hand down my hair.

“I love when you do that,” I say sleepily.

I close my eyes and think about last night.

How he dunked the ball during warm-ups, then blew me a kiss. How he scored twenty-two points. How, when he was the bench, he’d always catch my eye and smile at me. How his eyes stayed glued to me when the dance team performed at the end of the third quarter. And then how we danced under the twinkle lights to our playlist. How dancing with him makes me feel high. Happy. Emotional.

I can’t imagine dancing with anyone else for so long without getting bored.

But things are never boring with Aiden. Especially because he added a fun dance song in the middle of our playlist.

We moved our bodies to the beat, grinding on each other and having fun.

When the slow songs started again, he picked me up, put me on his bed, then lay on top of me and kissed every part of my upper half until I had to run to make curfew.

When I snuck back over later, all he had on were a pair of boxers and a sleepy grin. After some mutual pleasure, I fell asleep in the same spot I’m in now.

Gritty, raw performance.

3:30pm

Aiden and I get up late, have coffee and chocolate croissants, and cheer for Logan at his wrestling match. Now, I’m lying on my bed relaxing before I have to get ready for tonight and reading reports about Mom’s movie online.

Christian Protestors Picket Theaters in California

Christian protestors came out in number yesterday to protest the Abby Johnston movie, To Maddie, With Love. In Los Angeles, two theaters were shut down after receiving bomb threats. Bomb squads searched both properties and found no incendiary devices. Moviegoers themselves rushed out of one San Francisco theater after smelling what they were afraid was some kind of toxic gas, but turned out to be simply a sewer malfunction.

None of these incidents have effected ticket sales. Box offices are recording what should shape up to be a record-setting weekend. Despite her dismal personal life, it looks like Abby Johnston may finally win an Oscar.

Excerpt from Movie Critic, Bart Wallow

This movie achieves that rare combination of being a big box office hit and having a gritty, raw performance that really shows off Abby’s acting chops. That she’s damn hot in this movie hasn’t hurt ticket sales, either.

Then I start searching for information on the remake of A Day at the Lake. I find a small blurb in a trade magazine.

Search For The Next Abby Johnston Falls Short

A Breath Behind You Films CEO Vincent Sharpe has been touring the country, looking for the next Abby Johnston to star in their remake of her cult classic, A Day at the Lake. Sources from inside the company say that the search has not gone as pla

I breathe a sigh of relief about Sander.

I also realize that I haven’t heard anything from B since I got notification that my birthday gifts arrived at his hotel.

I decide to call him.

He doesn’t answer, so I leave him a message.

“Hey, it’s me. Just calling to wish you a happy early birthday. I sent three packages to your hotel. It says they were delivered, so hopefully they found their way to you. I also wanted you to know that I’m not mad at you. I understand why your dad doesn’t want you to help me. Anyway, um, happy birthday again. Hope you have a great day and we can talk soon. Bye, B.”

KNOCK KNOCK.

I’m startled by the loud knock and drop my phone.

“Who is it?”

“Aiden.”

I glance at the clock, verifying that it’s a little before four, then open the door.

“I need you to come with me,” he says, pulling me out the door.

“Why?”

“I need to show you something, but we have to hurry.”

“Can I grab my coat?”

“Nope, you won’t need it.”

“You’re being awfully bossy.”

He grins at me. “I’m sorry, but we’re in a bit of a time crunch.”

“Did something happen with the picnic baskets?”

“No, I just need to show you something.”