“Because, it’s embarrassing. Duh!”
“Come on. It can’t be that bad.” He flashes his dazzling smile at me and slowly blinks his eyes. I’m pretty sure that’s how he triggers his mind control powers because I can’t bring myself to lie to him.
“Fine. She knew I was a virgin.”
“So?”
“So I was the only one, and I had a reputation as a party girl. I dated my perfect boyfriend for over a year. Everyone thought we were doing it, but we weren’t. She threatened to tell everyone that our relationship was a sham.”
“So, the Keats guy was your first?”
I shake my head. “No. There was one other guy.”
“Tell me about the Keats guy. You still talk to him.”
“I crushed on him for a couple years. He was like a whole new world compared to the people I was friends with at school. He liked surfing, smoking, dive bars, indie rock. When we went places it was casual, never really planned out. We got together this summer, he told me he loved me. Now, he doesn’t.”
“You told me in French he was stupid, but that’s all you said.”
“No. One embarrassing story is enough for tonight.”
“Tell me. Then I’ll tell you one.”
“You have an embarrassing story?”
“Yep.”
“Fine. So I went to see him. He was with another girl while I was there.”
“So, he sort of cheated on you?”
“No. We weren’t going out. Wait. Whose side are you on?”
“Yours. Always yours,” he says. “I’m just asking. He sounds like a jerk.”
“He does.”
“So, back to your friends. He wasn’t acceptable. So you fought against them?”
“Yeah, I tried to. I loved him.”
Aiden touches my finger with his. “You should love me,” he says sweetly.
But I laugh. I can’t love Aiden. Aiden could destroy me, and I can’t take any more destruction in my life. Before I can reply, he grins at me and says, “Actually, don’t. I don’t want to be the rebound. Dawson is obviously a rebound.”
I shake my head and roll my eyes at him. “No, he isn’t.”
He gets up off his bed, presses play on his phone, and holds out his hand. “Come on. You still owe me those dances.”
I stand up and he pulls me into his arms.
I close my eyes and breathe in his godly scent—warm musk mixed with an intoxicating bit of clove and possibly some golden glitter and fairy dust.
I barely hear the songs play. All I can think about is how Aiden’s hands are touching my lower back. About how close his cheek is to mine. I lean a little closer.
As was the case before, dancing with Aiden is practically otherworldly. As hot as sex is with Dawson, I can’t help but wonder how it would feel with Aiden. It’s as if the dance is just a preview of how amazing it could be. And as we’re standing here together, swaying slowly, I swear my heart jumps out of my chest, mates with his, and comes back to me.
WTF!?
Did I seriously just think that? My heart mated with his? Oh, baby Jesus, it is time for me to get out of here.
Is he burning some kind of incense? Did he put some hallucinogenic mushrooms in the Gatorade he let me have a sip of? What the hell is wrong with me?
I pull back just a little and break the spell.
Well, I break the spell until he smiles at me. He has his eyes closed when he first looks toward me, then he slowly opens them, offering me just slivers of dazzling green. When he sees me looking at him, his mouth—that-gods-be-damned-for-creating-it mouth—curls into a sweet grin.
“I love dancing with you,” he says.
“It is nice,” I say, like an idiot. Of all the words I could use to describe the way I feel when I’m dancing with him and all I can come up with is the word most overused by fourth graders?
He’s still holding me in his arms. And I really don’t want him to let go.
“It’s almost curfew; you better go,” is what he says, but he tightens his hold on me.
I make myself blink. It seems to help fight his powers. Breaking the spell for a moment or something.
“Yeah,” I say, a little too breathlessly. But what I’m thinking is Kiss me. Please, Athena, Zeus, Apollo, whoever, make him kiss me.
Shit. How does he do that to me? It’s like he telepathically puts thoughts into my head.
I don’t want to kiss him. I like Dawson.
He leans in and gets as close to my lips as possible, without touching them. “Too bad you have a boyfriend, or I’d be kissing you now.”
I swallow hard.
Because I had momentarily stopped breathing, a pile of spit had collected in the back of my throat. It was either swallow or choke.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” As my lips move to speak the words, they just brush against Aiden’s, and the feeling is more electrifying than if I had actually kissed him.
I pull back, shocked.
“I really have to go,” I murmur, and then get the hell out of there and race to my dorm.
But I’m seven minutes late.
Which is like a half a second in god years, so you’d think it wouldn’t be held against me, but it is.