“Oh, uh, yeah, that’s probably a bad idea. I was thinking like knocking boots, as in kicking a soccer ball with the boots, not, uh . . .” He runs his hand through his beautiful, dark blond hair in frustration. “Gosh. I’m sorry. Shit.”
“Merde.”
“What?”
“It’s shit in French. At the very least, I hope I can teach you to cuss properly. Whatever.” I turn to Annie. “I have a campaign idea. I want to use the school colors. All the signs will be red and yellow, with lots of gold glitter and leopard. I was thinking, Vote for Keatyn Mon-roaaaarrrrr. Like you roar at football games? What do you think?”
Aiden whispers in my left ear. “Rawwwrrr.”
And holy merde. He growls so sexily. The thought crosses my mind that I would like to make him growl for real.
In bed.
Annie says, “That’s such a good idea and using school colors is brilliant. We’ll make some cool signs. I’ve already managed to sneak some wine into my room. We’ll drink, make posters, and watch cheesy movies all weekend.”
“We have the dance team sleepover tonight, but for the rest of the weekend that sounds good.”
Aiden whispers from behind me, “So what about fuck?”
And, for a second, I thought he asked me to, well, you know.
My face gets all hot. I feel like I’m going to faint. The idea of doing that with Aiden is overwhelming. I grab Annie’s diet Coke off her desk and down it.
Regain my senses.
I finally realize that even though Annie and I moved on, Aiden is still talking about dirty French words.
I take a deep, cleansing breath.
“Well, there isn’t just one word. And it sorta depends how you mean it. How do you mean it?”
“Um, what if I wanna tell someone to fuck off?”
“You could say, Casse-toi! which, really, is a nicer way to say it. It’s more like saying, piss off.”
Miss Praline starts class and is blabbering on about French club and not actual French class, so Aiden passes me a note.
Sorta like fate.
2:55pm
I’m looking out at the bleachers filled with students and praying I do well. I would pray that I don’t trip, or fall down, don’t forget a kick, or miss a step, but Mom read some child-rearing book recently and says we aren’t allowed to say don’t or can’t anymore. They say when you tell someone don’t fall down, that’s what they focus on, and that’s what they do. So I’m telling myself, do the routine perfectly, kick as high as you can, have a smile on your face, don’t panic, um, I mean, be calm.
Okay, it’s time!
I run out there, smile big, and do the dance.
And I did it!
I did the routine perfectly—well, not completely perfectly; I was a little late on one kick, but that was because for a second I was blinded by Aiden’s smile.
We jump around with the cheerleaders.
Coach, Brad, and Dawson walk out to huge cheers. While Brad is speaking, Dawson looks over and winks at me.
Afterwards, I head to the library to meet Aiden.
On the way there, I get an email from Sam.
Congratulations. As of the close of business today, you are a new loft owner. I’ve taken care of setting up the insurance, the utilities, cleaning company, and security. You should be all set.”
I message him back a thank you, along with the name of the designer he will be getting a bill from.
Then Brad and Annie text me.
Brad: Your ideas rock. I’ll go with you to talk to the dean about it. This weekend?
Me: Sound good! You’re speech was awesome. Very motivational.
Brad: Thanks :) Your dance was awesome. A lot of the girls messed up. You didn’t.
Me: I was off on one kick, but I don’t think anyone noticed. Kick ass tonight!!
Annie: I have a sample sign done. Want you to see it. Where are you?
Me: Just walking in the library to tutor Aiden.
Annie: Oo la la. Be right there.
Aiden says, “What’s up, B-Moi?”
“You know, it almost sounds like you’re saying be mine.”
“I sorta am, aren’t I? Well, in a more intimate way.”
“Okay, so when we travel to France someday, I’m thrilled that you’ll be able to cuss and get laid, but we need to focus on your vocabulary words for this week.”
“You want to go to France with me, huh?”
“What?”
“You said when we travel to France someday.”
“I, uh, you know what I meant.”
“Yeah, I do.” He gives me a blazing smile. Like, full wattage, bigger than I have yet to see. It radiates up to the top of his blonde spikes. He puts his elbow on the table and rests his chin on his fist. Then he looks at me in his dreamy way. “We will definitely go to France together. Maybe I’ll ask you to marry me there. Top of the Eiffel Tower, sunset?”
“I don’t even like you. Why would I marry you?”
“You love me.”
I laugh out loud and get a couple shushes from the people sitting near us.
“Come on, Boots, you know I’m right.”
“I know nothing of the sort. And you really need to focus, or you will not be passing French, and I’m not the kind of girl that likes to fail.”
“And I’m not the kind of boy who will take no for an answer.”