We’re just finishing up another ass-crack-of-dawn Social Committee meeting.

“Okay,” Brad says. “Let’s meet again on Thursday morning.”

I groan and roll my eyes.

Aiden, who is sitting next to me, says, “Why don’t we meet on Thursday for dinner? The JV team has a bye week.”

I mouth I love you to him.

He cocks his head to the right and gives me a smirk.

“You know what I mean. I’m just thankful I don’t have to get up so early. I love you for suggesting a later meeting. These are about killing me.”

He doesn’t reply. Just nods his head and keeps grinning.

As we’re walking to get coffee, he says to me, “You gonna dance with me at the after party?”

“I’m sure I’ll be dancing with everyone. We want it to be a shake-your-ass-bump-and-grind-with-everyone kind of thing. See you missed out on that with your twenty-nine slow dances.”

“I loved our dances. I love to dance with you.”

“Why don't you just say it?” I arch an eyebrow at him.

“Say what?”

“You love me.”

“Naw, not yet.”

“Still, you were throwing out a whole lotta love there.”

As he runs his hand through his hair, I notice a bead of sweat just below his hairline. For once, Aiden looks like a normal, nervous boy.

He changes the subject. “You have really good ideas. Like seriously.”

“Only for parties.” I laugh.

“Naw, you have that thing. That think outside the box thing. It’s like you think anything is possible. It’s refreshing.”

“Well, whatever we can dream, we can do, right?”

His green eyes glisten and he says quietly, “I sure hope so.”

“Aiden! Have you been dreaming about me?”

He blushes.

Seriously. He actually blushes. And I was just teasing.

I mean, I’ve had dreams about him.

But he BLUSHED!

That means his dreams were sexual!

“Aiden!?”

“What?”

“You’ve had dreams about me. Tell me about them.”

“No.”

“Come on. I'll tell you one I had about you. It was naughty.”

I get the smile, the mega watt can’t-look-directly-into-it-like-the-sun-cuz-it-hurts-your-eyes smile. “Do tell,” he says.

“No, you go first. Did we have sex in your dream?”

“Yes.” His mouth looks playful. The corners of it are turning up, but his eyes make me feel like I’m standing naked in front of him.

“Tell me.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead he asks, “Did we have sex in yours?”

“If I tell you that, I have to tell you the whole dream.”

“If I’m going to tell you, I need to smoke. Meet me at the cave tonight.”

Katie, Annie, Maggie, and me are having a girls’ night to celebrate my Student Council victory and so that I can attempt to thank them for all their help. I ordered in Chinese food for us. We eat, paint each other’s nails, gossip, and drink some nasty screw-top wine.

We discuss who we hope will ask us to Homecoming and who might be possible backups. They tell me about all the grand ways in which boys here ask you to the dance. They sound like mini wedding proposals. They go on and on about all the romantic things they have seen. Maggie tells us how Logan asked her last year. How he ordered her a big cookie cake that said Homecoming? in frosting. I think about how Sander asked me last year. It was something like, Once you pick out a dress, you’ll have to go shopping with me so we can match. I don’t think he ever actually asked.

Tuesday, September 20th

He thinks he’s a sex god.

8:20am

I think I drank a little too much wine last night. Or maybe it was just because I was already tired, but it totally relaxed me and I was completely crashed out by eleven.

I missed meeting Aiden at the cave and I saw this morning that he called and texted me, but I didn’t hear my phone. I didn’t even hear my alarm go off. Thank goodness Katie had hers set too.

I have a bit of a headache, so I pick out something cute to wear.

I firmly believe that Gucci shoes have the ability to cure a hangover. Kym always says that when people with hangovers dress sloppily, they feel sloppy all day. So, I’m dressing for how I want to feel. A cute white oxford shirt with an oversized black bow tie neck. Plaid skort. Black cardigan. Black over-the-knee socks with ribbon ties. Gucci black patent and suede platform oxford booties. Matching Jimmy Choo black patent bag.

In History, Riley flicks the ribbons on my socks. “How are things going with you and my brother?”

“Good, I think. He got mad at me the other night, though, and was acting kinda jealous.”

“Would you rather have a guy that doesn’t care?”

“I guess not.”

“He told me you were with Aiden the other night.”

“And Annie and a bunch of people studying for our French test.”

“In a hot tub?”

“Well, that was the plan. Regardless, it was fun. And I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“So you’re not in love with the Hottie God anymore?”

“That wasn’t love. I just, I thought he was cute, and he has a certain charm about him, but he tells me he likes me one minute and then he hates me the next.”

“He told you he likes you? Was this recently?”

“Um, no. It was a while ago. What about you? You and Ariela are cute together. She seems a little too sweet for you, though.”

He flicks my hair.

“Hey!”

“What do you mean she’s too sweet for me?”

“Well, she’s not like the whoredom girls.”

“She’s not.” He grins big.

“Why are you grinning so much?”

“Cuz I like that about her. She doesn’t want to have sex with me until we’re going out and in love and stuff.”

“Do you want her to fall in love with you? Usually you’re good with just lust.”

“Yeah, well, I really like her. I’m not just a sex god, you know,” he laughs. “Hooking up is fun, but I think it’d be cool to do it with the same person. Truthfully, my brother has been so happy, I kinda want to be that way too.”

“Your brother is happy because all of a sudden he thinks he’s a sex god.”

Riley laughs out loud.

The teacher says, “Riley, do you have something you’d like to share with the class?”

Riley clears his throat, trying to stop laughing. “No, sir.”

As we’re leaving class, I can’t help but give him a big hug.

“What’s that for?”

“My wittle Wiley is growing up and falling in wuuuuv.”

“Do not tell anyone I said that. We don’t want to ruin my reputation just yet.”

He can go it alone.

French

I walk into class where Aiden is sitting at his desk, book open, doing some last minute studying.

“Hey, sorry about last night. Did you not get my text this morning?”

“Yeah, I got it. Just didn’t have anything to say back.”

He’s pissed at me. Again.

“Oh. Um, I think you’re gonna do good on the test. Good luck.”

“Doubt it.”

“Why do you doubt it? We’ve studied hard.”

“I was up late, sitting outside, waiting for this girl to show up when I should’ve been asleep.”

The teacher starts handing out tests, and I’m not supposed to say anything, but I turn around anyway. “Maybe if you replied to my text, I could explain.”

“I’m sure you were busy with Dawson.”

Miss Praline says, “Keatyn, turn around. No talking during the test.”

“I wasn’t. I feel asleep. I’m really sorry.”

He huffs at me and puts his head down.

Now I can barely concentrate.

And after class he doesn’t say a word to me.

He just leaves.

And I’ll be damned if I’m going to tutor him tonight. Or any other night.

He can go it alone.

Longest week of my life.

6pm

On the way to Taco Tuesday, Dawson complains, “How much longer are you gonna have your period?”

“It ended today,” I say. I was shocked to discover this afternoon that it is completely over. It’s barely been three days. Can I just say that I love the pill. Seriously, no cramps and fewer days. I don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner. Well, actually, I do know. My mom was afraid it would turn me into a slut.

“Really, already? Is that normal?”

“Actually, no. It’s not normal for me. Uh, so I have something I need to tell you.” I’m really excited to tell him about the pill.

His eyes get huge. He veers off the road into a parking lot then turns and looks at me.

“Are you pregnant? How could that even be? We’ve used a condom every single time!”

“What?” I reach out and touch his forearm. “I’m not pregnant. I just had my period, silly.”

He blows out a huge breath of air. “Oh. Yeah. Oh. My. God. You about gave me a heart attack. The way you said, I have something I need to tell you.”

Part of me feels slightly offended at this. Obviously, I would freak out too if I was, but there’s a tiny part of me that wants him to say, I don’t know, something more reassuring.

“That’s probably something we should discuss since we’re having sex. Condoms aren’t infallible.”

“You mean like what we’d do if that happened? If you got pregnant?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” He runs his hand through his hair and sighs big. “Well, I don’t know what we’d do. Don’t you kind of have to be in that situation to decide?”

“What do you mean?”

“How old we are at the time. If you wanted to keep it. If you didn’t. If you wanted to have it. If you didn’t, all that. I think it’s easy to say, I’d have it, or I’d get rid of it, or I’d keep it, or I’d give it up for adoption, but then if you were actually in the situation, I would think even if you planned one thing, you might decide to do another.”

“Like, what do you mean?”

“Keatie, I don’t want a baby now. I doubt you want a baby now. But if you were pregnant, right now, I think I’d have a really hard time giving it up.”

And I’m pretty sure that with those words I just fell a little bit in love with him.

No. Think with your head, Keatyn. That is not romantic. He’s just reassuring you because he likes having sex with you.

I lean over and kiss him. “I’m sorry I freaked you out. The reason my period wasn’t normal, why it was shorter, is because I went on the pill.”

His face lights up. “Really? So we won’t have to use condoms anymore?”

“Doubling up the protection is a good thing. Plus, I mean, have you been, like, tested?”

“I’m clean, Keatie. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

He leans over, kisses me deeply, and then drives us to dinner.

We eat a whole bunch of tacos. I’m still amazed when I sit down with a group of boys just how much they can eat.

After dinner, Jordan starts telling us about how he broke up with Tasha, a girl I don’t know very well.

Dallas is like, "Dude, you only dated for a week."

"Longest week of my life."

And I’m like, "Why's that?"

"Do you know how much work girls are?"

"Uh, I guess not?"

"She wanted me to sit around all night texting her. No offense, but I just had dinner with her. We did homework together. We made out, but she didn’t want to do anything else. And I’m okay with that. But when I come back to my room and want to kill a few zombies with my boys, she gets all pissed off! Calls me and goes, Why aren't you replying to my texts?" He uses a funny bitchy girl voice when he says it. It makes us all laugh.

Ace says, “I hate high maintenance chicks.”

Bryce agrees. “They’re all high maintenance.”

Riley, who is still laughing, says, "If they would just understand it’s hard to text when you're saving the world from obliviation.”

All the guys laugh.

“Dude,” Tyrese says, “my kill ratio is better than all of yours.”

“No way,” Dallas says. “Mine is the best. You got totally owned when you played me. Now, Ace, he sucks.”

And thus ensues a verbal war of who is better at killing fake things with a fake gun.

I totally do not get the video game draw. Brooklyn used to get high with his friends after surfing, then they would chill, which meant they sat around in his game room on the floor pillows and played video games. Brooklyn has a sweet game room: low couches, beanbags, and pillows. But the big draw was four separate Xboxes, which allowed them all to get on Xbox LIVE and play each other.

Even Tommy would play with them occasionally. Tommy told me video games reach the primal depths of men. Their need to kill and provide. Since now they just make money to provide, video games give them the opportunity to release this natural desire. Of course, then all Brooklyn’s friends started talking about other ways to release their natural desires and Tommy sent me home.

I whisper to Dawes, "Am I high maintenance?"

"Naw, you're cool. I’m not really listening to them though. All I can think about is doing it without one. I never have—have you?”