Oh, shit. I just kicked at totally the wrong time.
Seven minutes left.
Not that I’m counting.
Step up my game. Do the rest of the routine to perfection. Turn, kick, shimmy, turn right, spin, kick, kick, pompoms up, and kneel.
Let’s get the heck out of here.
But no.
We have to stop and discuss tomorrow night’s festivities in more detail. We’re having a dance sleepover after the game. Everyone is all giddy and excited about this. Whatever.
I need to get out of here!
We already went over this!
I carefully sneak my way out of the dance room and into the changing room. I give myself a quick sink shower, touch up my makeup, throw on deodorant, some perfume and figure, what the hell, let’s give him the legs, leave on my booty shorts, throw on a clean T-shirt, grab my bag, and get over there.
Okay, fine. I did brush my teeth too. Not because I’m thinking I might kiss him. That thought never crossed my mind.
I’m seriously weighed down with my school bag and my dance duffle. As I come out of the field house, there’s Dawson waiting for me. He’s apparently done with football. Of course, all he’s carrying is a little teeny bag.
He’s like, “Where are you going in such a hurry? I thought we could hang before the game.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Miss Praline asked me to tutor someone that’s not doing well in French. I didn’t want to, but she bribed me kinda. Actually, it’s pretty exciting. Don’t tell anyone, but she’s getting me on the Social Committee.”
He hugs me. My duffle drops to the ground. “That’s awesome, Keatie. Maybe I should see if I can get on it too.”
“That would be cool. Okay, so give me a kiss, and then I gotta go. I’ll just meet you up in the stands.”
“You wearing those shorts?”
“Should I?”
“To the game? Hell, no. All the guys would stare, and I’d end up in a fight.” He pulls me in tight and puts his hands directly on the back of my shorts. “But tonight after the game, in my room, definitely.”
“You’re a bad boy.”
“I hope I’m good,” he teases.
“Okay, see you later.”
I bound off. He is following me, of course, because both boys live in the same dorm.
He runs up behind me, grabs my bags, and says, “Why do you need so much stuff?”
“I didn’t have time to stop at my dorm after classes, and I didn’t know I was going to be tutoring him until today.” I open the door to his dorm.
“Him?”
“Yes, him. Don’t be jealous. I want to hurry up and get this over with so I can snuggle up with you in the stands and watch the game.”
We walk by his room. He quickly pulls me inside and pins me against his door.
I laugh at him, but he’s being serious.
He presses his body tightly into mine and nibbles on my ear. “Maybe we should go to the game late. Just come to my room when you’re done.”
“I was just in your room last night.”
“Yeah, I know. It was amazing. But I’m not expecting that. I mean, unless you force me. Which would be pretty hot.”
“I have to go. Meet me at the game.”
He kisses my neck, trying to get me to change my mind. “I really have to go!”
Creeping on me.
4:45pm
Finally get Dawson to stop kissing me and then race upstairs to Aiden’s room. I’m late. When I knock on his door, the wonderful smell of pizza is wafting out.
He opens the door. “You’re late, Boots.” Blinding smile.
“Kept the lights up, I see.”
“Yeah, everyone liked them.”
“So, let’s get started,” I say.
“Yeah, let’s.” He grabs a piece of gooey pizza, holds it up to my mouth, and tries to feed me. I was going to resist, but he gives me that grin, and I just open my mouth.
“Aren’t you going to eat too?”
“Naw. I can’t eat stuff like that before a game or I’d puke. I got it for you.”
“And how did you know pepperoni and black olives is one of my favorites?”
And so unhealthy.
“It’s on your Facebook profile.”
“Damn, you’ve been creeping on me.”
“Maybe just a little.”
“You didn’t write on my wall or like any of my statuses.”
“Yeah, I know. You were mad at me.”
“I’m still mad at you, but here we are.”
“I’m so glad I suck at French.”
“Okay, so let’s go over these workbook pages; we don’t have much time.”
We get three of the four pages done before he has to leave.
“I better get going. Coach gets pissed if we’re late,” he says.
“Good luck tonight.”
I lean down to pick up my bags. He grabs one off his floor and puts it on my shoulder. He’s way too close for comfort. When he gets that close to me I have a hard time swallowing and breathing.
I feel his warm breath on my neck. “So what’s the deal with you and Dawson?”
Even though the bag is firmly on my shoulder, he stays close to me.
I think this is like that saying about not standing too close to the fire or you might get burned.
The fire that is Aiden is starting to make me sweat.