“I suspect you had a little more fun than me,” he grins mischievously.
“You made out with a different girl each night.”
“Yeah, but I didn't have sex.”
“Me neither.”
“Kiki, we don't lie to each other remember?”
“Damn, you must be physic about more than just panties.”
“Dawson is crazy about you.”
“Naw.”
“Uh, yeah. He is. He’s been on freaking cloud nine since you got here. Even before y’all had fun. Riley is actually worried you might hurt him. He thinks you like the Hottie God or whatever you call him.”
“The God of all Hotties.”
“That’s it. Hey, remember how we were talking about redoing Dawson’s image? Did you notice how tight he and Riley were this weekend?”
“I know. And I don’t even care about his image anymore, but I like seeing him happy. He was really sad that night.”
“And someone has cheered him up. Amazing how some orange panties can do that.”
“Oh my gosh! Have you been creeping through my clothes?”
“Nope. I’m just that good. Plus, I could see them when you bent over to pick up your duffle bag. Cute little daisy charm on the back.”
“Shut up. I’m afraid that when Whitney sees him happy, she’ll want him back. I’m not sure I’d stand a chance. We should be worrying about me getting hurt, not him.”
“Ah, Kiki, you know Dallas is always here for you.” Then he says, “Speaking of that. You, me, and Riley tonight at the cave.”
Tuesday, September 6th
Stalking me.
6:27am
I have seven missed calls from Dallas and a couple texts from him and Riley.
Basically the texts are versions of: Where are you? Did you fall asleep? Wake up!!
But the best text of all was from Dawson this morning.
Dawson: Miss waking up with you. Will be stalking you :)
I should be horrified by this text. I mean, stalking me! But, I’m not. It seems like a strange twist of fate that I’m happy about being stalked.
I get ready quickly, but carefully. I want Dawson to think I look amazing today.
I flip open my look book to see today’s look.
It’s not really how I’m feeling, looks very cute, but more preppy. So I flip through the book and try to find the sexiest version.
Look eighteen is what I want. The navy, black, and red plaid skort; red lace bra—and if it happens to show a little under my skinny ribbed black tank, oh, well; short red cardigan, with only the middle button buttoned; black leather sliced cuff; and vintage black and gold Channel earrings. Kym showed it with a pair of cute flats, but I decide to go full out sexy and wear the black platform Gucci boots I brought from home.
My hair is full of big curls and my bangs are held back in a poof with a silver barrette. My makeup is soft and natural, except for a black eyeliner swoop and as much mascara as my lashes can hold.
I look like the schoolgirl version of Barbarella.
(In case you’ve never seen Barbarella, it’s an old movie starring Jane Fonda. When it came out in the seventies, it was very risqué. There were no explicit sex scenes, but the whole thing’s all about sex. Like there is one part where this evil dude locks her in this room that plays organ music and makes her feel, um, extreme pleasure. Anyway, I watched part of it until Tommy told me I had to go to bed. I think he was just turned on by Jane and wanted Mom to himself. Anyway, she has big hair and wears tall platform boots in the movie.)
Katie left earlier to get breakfast. I’m hoping to have time to grab at least some coffee before I head to class. I walk out and there, sitting on the brick wall, is Dawson, waiting for me.
I have to say, I love the way the boys here dress. No baggy jeans, no underwear showing. There’s something so sexy about a boy who’s dressed up. Dawson has on his required khaki cargo shorts, a pink and white striped oxford, a pink tie that I'm pretty sure has little blue elephants all over it, the navy school blazer, and Sperrys on his feet.
He looks so hot sitting there I almost want to whistle.
And then I can barely breathe as my mind flashes to his muscular body, naked, on top of me.
Whooh. Sorry.
He sees me, does let out a whistle, and looks me up and down. “Damn, Keatie, you look like some kind of S&M schoolgirl fantasy.
I smile. “So, you’re stalking me?"
“You know I am." He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me in for a kiss. As I lean forward, a bit of red lace peeks out. He stops midway, pushes me back out a little, and looks down. “Red lace. Are you trying to drive me nuts? Speaking of that, I still haven't seen the leopard one yet."
"I think you saw plenty this weekend."
"Yeah, but mostly bikinis. I want to see this bra up close and personal after practice.”
"I don't know. I might have lots of homework,” I tease.
"I'll tutor you, but I want you wearing nothing but that bra. Red panties too?"
“Probably.”
He pulls me in for a sexy kiss.
“Did I see you brought me coffee?”
"Oh, uh yeah, you distracted me. Here. Skinny soy chai latte, no whip, right?"