Damn him!
Tonight I’m doing an internet search on how to protect yourself from a demigod.
He’s surprisingly happy to see me.
“So, how was your weekend with your Keats boy?”
I’m thinking he already knows the answer to this question but wants to make me suffer. Suffer for loving another boy. But if he knows about Brooklyn, wouldn’t he also know about Dawson? Maybe he doesn’t know.
“My weekend was fun, but I spent very little of it with him.”
Annie says, “Really? What happened?”
But class gets started, and we aren’t allowed to talk.
I try to focus on Dawson, how sweet and sexy he is, while trying to forget the way Aiden makes me feel just by sitting next to me.
Toward the end of class, we’re allowed to converse with each other in French. So I turn to Annie and Aiden and ramble on about what happened this weekend.
They both look at me blankly.
Annie goes, “Something about stupid?”
Aiden adds, “I got something about boy. Was he a stupid boy?”
“Yeah, basically, that’s the gist of it. I only saw him briefly, then went up to Dawson’s house in the Hamptons. He and Riley had a bunch of people there. It was a lot fun.”
“You shouldn’t be hanging out with Dawson. He’s a jerk.”
Annie says, “Who cares what he is. He’s way hot.”
I turn around to face Aiden. “Why do you think that? No one else thinks that.”
“You thought that. Just last week. Or do you not remember how he was pawing your shirt? Or how he gave you the awful unwanted kiss that ruined your lips? You been drinking the Kool-Aid?”
“You know about the Kool-Aid?”
“Everyone knows about the Kool-Aid.”
“Oh, you mean drinking the Kool-Aid, not the actual Kool-Aid.” I laugh.
“Why’s that funny?”
“Because Dawson and Riley make an alcohol-laden Kool-Aid when they’re at the beach. Their get-drunk-and-screw Punch.”
“You drink that Kool-Aid too?”
“Well, sure. Everyone did.”
“And here I thought you weren’t like everyone else.”
He doesn’t say a word to me, French, or otherwise, for the rest of class.
That, or he wants in your pants.
Before dance
“So, you got drunk and had sex with Dawson, huh?” Whitney sneers at me.
It’s always amazing how a girl can go from gorgeous to ugly with a simple mean sentence. She looks so ugly to me now.
I don’t want to be mean back, but I have to stand up for myself. I don’t want to be friends with her, but I really don’t want to be her enemy either. I just want her to leave me alone. So I keep my mouth shut.
But then she adds, “You’re such a slut.”
And I can’t help it.
I know Dawson told me this in confidence, and he would be disappointed to hear me say this, but I do.
“I don’t need to be drunk to want to sleep with Dawson. He’s extremely sexy. But no, the night I got a little drunk, I didn’t have sex with him. Not that it’s any of your business. And, oh, you and Jake are adorable. I’m so happy for you. And for him to ask you out so quickly, he must really like you a lot.”
That, or he wants in your pants.
But I don’t say that.
I’m above that.
Well, not really.
But I’m trying to be.
Definitely screwed.
9:50pm
I’m on my laptop looking up gods and demigods when I get an email from Garrett. He tells me that he would prefer if I didn’t tell anyone from home about my loft and gives me the name of a designer friend of his. He tells me the guy is up-and-coming. Which is a total understatement. The guy is well known for his ability to mix multiple styles for a very comfortable, lived-in look. He will be the perfect guy to decorate the loft. I actually let out a little squeal.
I quickly email the designer. Introduce myself and send him a link to photos of the loft.
He emails me back quickly, congratulating me on choosing a place with such incredible bones. He is going to get with the realtor, see the space, take some measurements, and get back to me in a few days with a plan.
I get back to my research. I figure it’s important for me to determine what exactly Aiden is if I’m going to be able to avoid his spells, or cosmic force, or whatever power it is that he has.
Then I wonder if maybe we were connected somehow in a past life, and that’s why his pull on me is so strong. But my feelings for him lately have been more on the hatred side of the spectrum. Because I hate that he does this to me.
He smiles at me.
Why does he have to smile at me?
Why does he have to be all, How was your weekend?
Ugghh!
So, just to set the record straight. I very much believe in God. In one God. The gods I am referring to here are of the Greek (or Roman?) type god world. I have never really determined how they fit into real religion because they don’t, really. I think they are more of a thing we study as history.
But now I’m thinking that maybe they represent temptation.
Whatever.