“You finished with your dances yet?” he asks.
“Well, all except the ones with you.”
“Awesome. Come with me.” He takes my hand and leads me out the door.
As in outside.
“I thought you wanted to dance with me?”
“Oh, I do.”
“Then where are we going?”
“I’ve got a little surprise for you,” he says sweetly.
I see that he’s leading me to his dorm. So, last night, I was irritated that he didn’t do anything more than kiss me. Tonight, I’m irritated because I’m pretty sure he wants to do way more than kiss.
Why else would he take me to his dorm room?
And that kinda pisses me off.
I can’t figure this guy out.
At all.
Maybe that’s his ruse. He acts like a nice guy. Like he’s not a player. Then a girl thinks, Well, yeah, I know he’s a player, but he was so sweet to me, I must be different than all those other girls, and then she falls in love with him and then he plays her.
He’s sneaky.
I try to make conversation. Safe conversation.
“You always score so many points?”
“No. Never. Those were for you. I’m trying to impress you. Remember, I asked you to be my date and you turned me down, so I had to come up with a new way to monopolize you.”
“And you’re gonna monopolize me in your dorm room?”
“Kinda.” He flashes me another blinding, powerful grin, and I just do as he says. He may also have the power of mind control. I’m not sure yet.
Outside his dorm room, he says, “Close your eyes.”
Okay, is it just me, or is this getting a little freaky? And what the hell does he have in there?
The line, Does this rag smell like chloroform to you? flits across my brain. I have a brief, panicked stalker moment and realize I do not have my purse with the pepper spray in it. I take a deep breath, decide to trust him, and tentatively close my eyes.
I hear the door open and feel his hand on the small of my back, guiding me into the room. The door makes a gentle closing sound.
“Okay, open your eyes.”
I do.
And what I see is not what I expected.
At all.
OMG!
The lights are off and on the ceiling he has strung a bunch of little white twinkle lights. He has a bottle of champagne chilling in a plastic bucket of ice and there are rose petals all over the floor.
It’s gorgeous!
I want to fall madly in love with him. Fall into bed with him. Let him give me about a million more of his soft, amazing kisses.
But then I remember Vanessa’s words and my pledge: To think with my head and not my heart.
I look again. See it all differently.
And I know what it is.
A. Big. Elaborate. Seduction. Scene.
I can’t imagine a boy going to this much trouble for anything else. No wonder he got so many girls last year. I mean, who wouldn’t fall for this shit?
Well, except for me. Because I know what he’s trying to do.
All of a sudden, I feel disappointed.
Really disappointed.
“I don’t get it. I thought you wanted to dance with me? Or did you have a different kind of dancing in mind? If you want to have sex with me, at least be honest with me and tell me that’s all you want.”
He looks around, panic on his face. “That’s not all I want. Shit. It does kinda look like that. Crap. I’m sorry. Let me start over.”
He holds out his arms. “All this is not supposed to be seduction. This is supposed to be me creating a dance. I wanted to dance all twenty-nine dances with you alone. I even have a twenty-nine song playlist on my phone if you’re ready.” He grins. “They’re kinda all slow songs. I want to dance slow with you.”
And then I feel amazing again.
Like all is right in the world.
He turns on the music, pulls me into his arms, and sways with me. By song four, we’re barely moving, and my body is molded tightly up against his.
It’s amazing to me how perfectly we seem to fit together. Like I belong to him. Like I’m a part of him.
We stare at each other, not saying a word. One of his hands runs lazily up my arm, then across my shoulder, then across my jawline, under my chin. And then, finally, across the back of my neck, pulling me toward his lips.
We kiss. Soft, slow, gentle. I seriously have never felt anything so intense. How can soft, butterflies-flitting-through-the-air kisses have so much power over me?
I was right. For sure, his powers are in his mouth. And he is so using them against me.
I’m but a mere mortal. I can’t resist.
“Want some champagne?” he murmurs.
I don’t want to stop dancing, really don’t want him to let go of me.
“I really don’t want to move from this spot,” I say dreamily.
Told you. I can’t lie to him.
He gives me another soft kiss. “You don’t have to move.”
He does though, pops the bottle, pours it into plastic drinking glasses, and hands me one.
He holds his glass up in the classic I’m-about-to-make-a-toast position, so I don’t take a drink yet.
“‘Now a soft kiss—Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.’ Cheers.”
He clinks my glass and takes a drink.