I take a step back. “I guess we’re kinda sorta dating.”
“So you’re kinda sorta single?”
“Yes. I’m not convinced he’s over Whitney and I’m kinda getting over someone myself, so we’re taking it slow.”
“That’s not what I heard,” he snarls.
“So Dawson told you that?”
“Well, no. Just what I’ve heard.”
“Alors vous ne connaissez pas la merde.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, You don’t know shit. Tomorrow. Tutoring. Right after school. And we’re meeting in the library.”
GRRR!
Ohhhh! Go team.
7:30pm
Watching the JV game with everyone and sitting next to Dawson. Well, snuggling next to Dawson. He’s adorable. He’s feeding me Skittles and then kissing me. Our mouths taste deliciously fruity.
Dallas texts me, even though he’s sitting in front of me.
Dallas: You+me=cave tonight. And I’m not taking no for an answer.
Me: Okay, but I don’t think we should kiss.
Dallas: Why not? You and Dawson aren’t going out, right? Can’t you do what you want?
Me: Well that’s true, but I don’t really want. I like him.
Dallas: :( But that’s cool. We haven’t talked in a while and maybe I have a dating dilemma of my own.
Me: Really?!
Dallas: Ha. No.
After halftime, I once again find myself in Dawson’s big athletic hoodie. It goes down to my knees. He’s sitting behind me in the bleachers, and I’m leaning back between legs.
Dawson slides a cool hand under the sweatshirt. I assume to get warmed up.
He casually strokes my side and then my stomach.
It feels nice, so I snuggle closer to him.
But as soon as I snuggle in closer, his hand dives down the front of my shorts. His back is leaned tightly into mine and his chin is resting on my shoulder. I turn my head just a little toward him and warn, “Dawson.”
He gives me adorable kiss on the cheek and pushes his hand further down.
Then he starts rubbing me, um, down there.
At first I think he’s just sort of teasing me. Trying to get me to go back to his room.
But he very quickly stops teasing and gets down to business.
I know I should tell him to stop. He should not have his hand down my shorts when we’re in the bleachers at a football game.
But because his sweatshirt is so big, no one can tell.
And what can I say?
I like it.
It feels really good and really naughty.
I try to keep my breathing steady, but he can tell that it’s not working. Or, well, that what he’s doing is definitely working.
I can feel his mouth form a smile on my neck.
I grab his bicep tightly.
Then close my eyes and miss a few plays. We don’t stand up and cheer when someone makes a big play. I can’t even clap. I’m breathing heavily. Gripping his bicep with all my might. Begging him with my grip not to stop.
The team scores, everyone stand up to cheer, and Dawson takes that moment to do a little scoring of his own. And then, I find myself cheering too, but for different reasons.
OHHH, GOOOOO TEAM!
“You’re so naughty,” I whisper to him.
“You so liked it. Can we please go back to my room? Like, now. We’ll just kiss, I swear.”
“We won’t just kiss and you damn well know it.”
I manage to keep him at the game, and by the time it’s over, it’s too close to curfew to just kiss in his room. We’re walking toward the dorms when Dallas slaps a Red Bull into my hand and says, “Drink up. Dress warm.”
Dawson says, “What’s that for? You meeting him at the cave tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
“What? You can come if you want. We just want to catch up.”
“You once told me you and Dallas smoke and make out when you’re there.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Hell, yeah, it bothers me.”
“Which part?”
“The kissing!”
“Oh, well, you don’t have to worry. Look.” I let him read my texts from earlier, telling Dallas we weren't going to kiss.
“I’m sorry. I should trust you.”
“We’re not in a relationship, Dawson. So, really, technically, I could kiss anyone I want to. So can you.”
“I don’t want to kiss anyone else, but I do have something I should probably show you,” he says, as he hands me back my phone.
“What?”
He messes with his phone and hands it to me. “Whitney texted me today. Read it.”
Whitney: Just because we aren’t going out, doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.
Dawson: Okay?
Whitney: I know you’re having fun with the new girl, but she’s not good enough for you. Why don’t I set you up with Rachel? She’s always crushed on you and at least she comes from a decent family.
Dawson: I’m surprised you’d want to set me up.
Whitney: We’re friends, Dawes, and you need someone worthy of your status. You’re still one of the golden boys here, and I assume you want to stay one. Dating beneath you will not be good for you. It’s practically social suicide.
Dawson: It’s really nice of you to worry about me, but I like Keatyn.