Hate Me

Hottie God:  Be right there :)

After everyone files out, Aiden steps in the classroom. His tie is loosened, one of his shirt-tails is untucked, and his blazer frames his broad shoulders. He looks like he walked straight off the pages of a magazine. He kisses my cheek in greeting.

“What’s up?”

“Remember my project? How it didn’t survive the kiln because it didn’t have a strong foundation?”

“Of course. It was the inspiration for our love mansion.”

“Guess what!?”

“What?”

“I made a new one—one with a stronger foundation—and it survived!” I grab his jacket sleeve, leading him to the back room. “Look!” I say, pointing at it.

“Wow, that’s really cool. I love the design. All the scrolly pieces. You know what this means, don’t you?”

“That I’m amazing at ceramics?”

“It means if you can’t take the heat, stay out of the kiln.”

“I don’t get it.”

He runs a fingertip across the top of the bowl, then grabs my hips, pulling me close. “It means we’re going to survive the kiln, too. No matter how high the heat.”

Slightly exaggerated.

Lunch

A

“What?! Why?” I ask in shock.

“Because he’s an idiot.”

“Why’s he an idiot?” Aiden asks, leaning toward A

I try to ignore the effect his hand has on my knee. Actually, on my entire body.

“I don’t know; maybe I’m the idiot,” she says. “Because I know that something happened when he was home. He hardly called or texted me. And since we’ve been back, he’s been different.”

“Did you ask him about it?” Aiden asks.

“Yes, and he had no answer. Just sort of shrugged like it was no big deal. I’m sorry, but if you love someone you don’t ignore them for four days!”

“Maybe there’s an explanation?” I offer.

Jake sets his tray down at the table and says to me, “Did you get in trouble in ceramics?”

“No, she just wanted to show me that my new bowl survived the kiln.”

Jake puts his hand up to high five me, so I smack it. “Did she put my sculpture in the kiln?”

“No, but it was just lying there. She hadn’t destroyed it.”

“I think she wants me.”

I laugh at him. “You’re silly.”

“What’d you make, Jake?” Dallas asks.

“A mold of my dick. Teacher was hot for it.”

“Nice,” Dallas says.

“If that huge thing was a mold, I wa

Aiden’s grip on my knee tightens for just a second. Like a flinch.

Jake rolls his eyes and laughs. “Fine, it may be slightly exaggerated.”

“Ha! I knew it!” I laugh with him.

“Can we have a serious conversation?” A

“What are you freaking out about?” Jake asks her.

She gives Jake the eye. “Do you know what Ace did over Thanksgiving break?”

“Went home?” Jake replies.

“Well, then let me ask you this, Jake. Would you have texted your girlfriend over Thanksgiving break?”

“Uh, sure?” Jake says, not very convincingly.

“What if you didn’t? What reason would you have for not texting her?”

“Maybe my phone was dead?”

“What else?”

“I was busy?”

“Exactly!” she says, pointing at him. “That’s what I thought! But busy with what—or whom—is the question.”

“A

“I don’t know but, as you can see, he’s not sitting with me today. Look where he’s sitting.”

“I don’t see him.”

“He’s sitting by Chelsea.”

Aiden’s eyes get big and his hand finches against my knee again.

And I know.

“Aiden and Logan,” I say, “did Chelsea text either of you over break?”

Aiden nods.

So does Logan.

Maggie’s eyes get big. “She what? What did you say? Did you reply?”

“Yeah. I told her not to text me again.”

Maggie narrows her eyes. “That’s all?”

Logan pulls out his phone and shows her.

Maggie reads it. “Oh, nice. She said, and I quote, We should hook up. You know you and Maggie are never going to work. That little bitch.”

Logan leans his head against hers. “Did you see what I wrote?”

Maggie doesn’t read this out loud, but her smile tells us all we need to know.

I turn to Aiden. “What did she say to you?”

“Can we talk about it later?” he says.

“Uh, sure,” I say, but I’m not at all sure. In fact, I’m pissed. Because if he said something like Logan did, he would’ve shown me now.

I move my knee out from under his hand, crossing my legs and turning toward A

“I bet she just sent them to Aiden and your friends’ boyfriends to get back at you.”

“You’re probably right.” I turn and say, “Bryce, did she text you, too?”

“Yeah, I told her to fuck off. She made a sexual comment about that to which I didn’t bother replying.”

Katie grins at him and runs her hand down his arm. They’re so cute together.

I know I should trust Aiden. I have no reason to doubt him. But it’s killing me.

Feasting on my stomach.

I can’t eat.

I can’t stop wondering what Aiden said to her.

And why he won’t tell me.

And I can’t even look at him. I just look straight down at my food and pretend to eat.

This is another reason why I shouldn’t have come back here. I can’t take any more drama in my life.

About halfway through lunch, Aiden reaches under the table, putting his hand back on my knee.

I was pretending to be absorbed in a conversation Jake and Bryce were having and his touch makes me jump.

I bolt upright, grab my tray, and say to the table, “I have to get to class early. See ya later.”

I throw my lunch in the trash, deposit my tray, and avoid Chelsea’s table.

Whitney says, “Keatyn,” as I walk by hers.

I sit down with her, Dawson, Brooke, and Peyton.

“Hey, how was your break?” I ask her politely.

She doesn’t answer my question. “Did Chelsea text Ace over break?”

I nod sadly. “Yeah. Logan, Bryce, and Aiden too.”

“She wants to get back at you.”

“Probably.”

“It’s because we’re divided, so she thinks she stands a chance. In fact, I was thinking . . .”

She leans over and whispers in my ear.

And what she says makes me smile. “You’re right. Tomorrow night, it is.”

A weird match.

French

I get to French class early, and Miss Praline says, “Keatyn, would you mind missing class today?”

“Not at all!” I practically scream. I really don’t think I can stand to sit here with Aiden, wondering the whole time what the heck Chelsea said to him.

“Great. I need someone to go to The Market and choose the picnic basket assortments for the French club to sell. Would you like to take Aiden or A

I shake my head. “Neither one of them is doing very well in class. I’d hate for them to miss it.”

“Yes, you’re right. You don’t mind going by yourself?”

“Honestly, it’d probably be easier to have just one person choose.”

“All right,” she says, writing out a pass for me. “I’ll call them and let them know you’re on your way.”

I practically skip out the door.

When I get to the office, Dawson is just leaving.

“Whatcha doing?” I ask him.