“Are you smiling right now?” I ask him.

“I have a very big smile right now, “ he replies.

“I’m wearing your jersey tomorrow.”

“I need to give it to you.”

His comment makes me whimper. Because I so want Aiden to give it to me.

“Give me your shirt?” I manage to say.

“Meet me in the morning for breakfast?”

“Sure.”

“You really did steal the show.”

“I love that you said it in French.”

“Well, French is a sexy language. Bonne nuit, Boots.”

I get up off my bed. Katie is in the bathroom putting her hair in a ponytail. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah. And I’m so excited. Did you see what I made for Bryce? It’s on my desk.”

I look at the heart on her desk. It’s got hot pink glitter around the edges of it, a football drawn in the middle of it, his number 44, and her name at the bottom covered in more glitter.

“It’s really pretty! This is a cool tradition, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, we didn’t do anything like this at my old school. Annie’s coming over. You should see what she made for Ace. She’s so excited because, you know, it’s usually the dancers and the cheerleaders that decorate the boys’ locker room. It’s cool that for this game the escorts get to do it. And sneaking out after curfew to decorate makes it feel that much more exciting.”

“You know we aren’t really sneaking out. We’re supposed to.”

“I know. It just makes it seem funner. What did you make for Aiden?”

I grab the paper football off my desk and show it to her. It’s got a big green four-leaf clover on it, just like the one he drew on the footballs, his number 1, a cowboy boot, and the word sort.

“Why didn’t you put your name on it?”

“I did. The cowboy boot. He calls me Boots.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because he didn’t know my name when I first met him and I was wearing cowboy boots.”

“Boots is the name of the monkey on Dora the Explorer. Do you want to have a monkey name?”

“I didn’t at first. Now, I kinda like it.”

“I like when a boy gives you a nickname that’s original. So why the word sort?”

“Sort means fate in French. He once told me that we’re sorta like fate.”

“Oh, that’s dreamy. I’m so excited for neon day and the black light pep rally tomorrow afternoon. Do you have an outfit planned?” She looks at me and shakes her head. “Of course, you have an outfit planned.”

Maggie, Annie, and Peyton burst through our door, waving construction paper and streamers. I know that Maggie is wearing Jake’s jersey and Annie is wearing Ace’s. “Peyton, whose jersey are you wearing?”

“Dawson’s.”

“Dawson’s? I thought Brooke was wearing his?”

“No, she’s wearing Brad’s.”

“Oh,” I say.

Peyton wraps an arm around me. “It will piss Whitney off. But wait until I get Super Cooper. That will really piss her off.”

“Super Cooper?”

“Yeah, a body like that and he’s got to be like Superman between the sheets.”

“Peyton!” Annie exclaims. “He’s a teacher.”

“And I seriously need to be taught,” Peyton says, while Maggie and I snicker.

“Let’s go decorate!” Katie yells.

Friday, November 4th

The happy trail.

Breakfast

I wake up early, dress myself in neon, put my hair back into a ponytail, and then rush to meet Aiden in the café.

He’s already here.

And he looks so adorable. He’s got on a bright orange sweatshirt, white athletic shorts, and gold aviators. He hands me a folded up jersey to wear tonight. I open it up and look at the number one. The name Arrington across the back.

And, yes, I go there. Keatyn Arrington.

Doesn’t that sound pretty?

“So I heard Dawson isn’t going to be here this weekend.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Peyton. She’s his escort but he’s not going to the banquet.”

“Yeah, he’s going home with his parents.”

“I heard he’s going to party with his brother.”

“Yes, that too. I don’t want to talk about Dawson. Have you seen your locker?”

“Not yet. Did you decorate it for me?”

“I don’t know.” I smile. “All these traditions are new to me.”

He leans closer to me and says sexily, “I have an important tradition that I need your help with.”

“Oh, really? What kind of tradition?”

He responds by taking off his orange sweatshirt.

I swear to all the gods on Mount Olympus that someday I am going to run my tongue down those abs. Follow the happy trail all the way down . . .

“Uh, what? Did you say something?”

He flashes me a knowing grin. “Yes. I said that it’s your job to paint this neon stuff on me for the pep rally.”

“Are you going to be shirtless for the pep rally?”

“Yeah, the cheerleaders asked me to be in their skit.” He tosses the orange sweatshirt over his shoulders like a cape. “I’m Super Cougar.”

“I hate cheerleaders,” I mutter under my breath.

“I heard that.” He bats his brown eyelashes at me and says, “Would you prefer one of them paint me?”

“No!” I say, grabbing a paintbrush out of his hand. “I’ll do it. I’m really good at art.”

Like, sorta.

I mean, I have painted my own toenails in a crisis situation.

He holds up small tubes of yellow, orange, and green neon paint.

I run up to the food line, grab a paper plate, and then squeeze the paint onto it.

“Did they tell you what they wanted?”

“I think just stripes here and there.”

“Okay.” I dip the brush in his water bottle then into the paint. I carefully place the brush on the end of his collarbone, trace it over his shoulder, then slowly down his arm to his hand. Going over each and every muscle. I repeat the procedure on his other side, using the orange instead of the neon yellow.

Then I run stripes of color straight across his stomach, the brush slowly gliding across all the places my mouth longs to be.

Aiden shifts uncomfortably.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask, standing back up from where I was kneeling in front of him.

“Uh, no,” he says, clearing his voice.

I brush more paint onto his skin directly above his waistband where his shorts are riding low on his hips.

He groans a little and then steals the paintbrush out of my hand. “Your turn.”

“My turn . . .” I start to say as he quickly paints stripes across my cheeks.

I stick my finger in the paint and run it down the sides of his cheeks. Making him look like a warrior god getting ready for battle.

He adds more paint down the sides of my arms.

I move my neon sunglasses from the top of my head down to cover my eyes. “I can’t be seen with all this paint on my face,” I tease.

Then he sets the paintbrush down, curls up his fist, places it gently under my chin, and kisses me.

The sexual one.

Lunch

I'm walking toward the café when Dawson grabs me. “We need to talk,” he says.

He has my hand and is dragging me toward our bench.

“Do you know what today is?”

“Friday. The big Compass Cup game day. Are you nervous?”

“It’s our two month anniversary. The sexual one.”

“Oh.”

“Are you in love with him?”

I rub my hand across my eyebrow and slump my shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do this weekend.”

“If you’re asking me if it’s okay to hook up with some girl, I’m going to give you the same advice you gave me. When you feel like you want to, you will.”

“I don’t feel like I want to. But then, I do.”

“Dawson, just the fact that we can sit calmly and talk about this should probably tell us both something.”

“That we’re better off as friends?”

“Probably.”

“You made me believe in love again.”

“I was broken too. Still am. Love sucks. Or maybe I just suck.”

Dawson grins at me and jabs his elbow teasingly into my side. “I always liked that about you.”

“Happy Anniversary, Dawson,” I say, kissing his cheek and laughing.

“Sit with me at lunch, today?”

“Okay.”

“Whoever you date better be good with us being friends.”

“I won’t date them if they’re not.”

As we walk back to the café, I say, “I heard Peyton is your escort.”

“She wants to piss off Whitney.”

“I think pissing Whitney off is a bad idea. Why do you keep sitting at her table, Dawson? Jake’s left. Really, everyone’s left.”

“They’ll be back. It’s always been our table.”

I wanna get lucky.

Pep rally

The football guys are getting set up for their speeches.

As I walk by Ace, Dawson, and Logan with my pompoms, Logan calls out, “Keatyn, wait! I want you to have one of these.” He flashes a clover tattoo at me from the stack in his hand.

“What’s with all the fucking clovers?” Dawson asks.

“Shouldn’t they be cougar paws?” Ace adds.

“They’re for luck,” Logan tells them both. “Don’t you wanna be lucky?”

“I wanna get lucky,” Ace says, fist-bumping Dawson.

I raise an eyebrow at them.

“Oh,” Ace says. “I mean, uh, you know. With the big victory.”

I roll my eyes and walk away.

Logan follows me. “These are for the team, but I saved you one.”

He pours some water on a paper towel then looks me over.

“Right there,” he says, pointing to my hip, right above where my other tattoo is.

As he’s putting the tattoo on me, I say, “That’s right above my other tattoo.”

“You have a tattoo?”

“Yeah.” I pull down the waistband of my neon green dance skirt and show him.

“What’s that mean?”

“It stands for chaos.”

“Luck and chaos. Perfect.”

“Why is it perfect?”

“Because we’ve lost the last three years running. And tonight,” he yells out loud, “there’s going to be chaos in Connecticut!”

“Chaos in Connecticut!” everyone cheers.

Maggie walks by without saying anything, so I grab her.

“Can Maggie have one?”

Logan looks her up and down and smirks. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

“I think she needs one more than you do.”

He nods. “You can have mine, Maggie.”

“Hold still, Maggie,” I boss. “He’ll put it in the same spot as mine.”

“Naw, different spot,” he says, holding her gaze.

Then he shocks us both when he places it right above her heart.

“Now you’ll be lucky in love,” he says and walks away.

Maggie puts her hand over the tattoo and visibly melts.

But then she squints her eyes at me. “Why does he want me to be lucky in love? Does he want me with Jake?”

“Maybe he wants to be lucky in love with you.”

“That would take more than luck,” she says. “That would take a miracle.”

The big game.

7pm

There's excitement everywhere. Pompoms wave. People cheer as the team runs out of the locker room through a blowup cougar head.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Riley grab Ariela's hand and pull her out of line, but then more guys run by and I don’t see where they go.

The big game is held at a nearby college stadium and the place is packed.

All the escorts are waiting for the football players to come off the field from warm-ups.

I notice Ariela has a clover tattoo on her cheek.

“Did Riley give you that?”

She puts her hand up to her cheek and smiles. When she does, I see a flash of pink on her left hand.

“Ohmigawd, did he finally ask?” I jump up and down.

She beams but then grabs my hands and whispers, “Shhhh. I haven't told anyone yet.”

“What'd he say? When did he ask?” I whisper back, still sort of jumping in place because I'm so excited.

“Just before the game. He gave me the tattoo, asked me to be his lucky charm, and then asked me to be his girlfriend.”

I give her a big hug. I'm so excited.

Then she looks at me and says, “Wait. What do you mean, finally asked?”

“He showed me and Dallas the ring weeks ago. Was all shy and said you had a thing for Hello Kitty. Isn't it adorable?”

“You didn't help him pick it out?”

“Nope. He did it all by himself. And I'm pretty sure he had it for a while before he even showed us.”

“He told me he loves me,” she whispers breathlessly.

“Back off, Kiki, she's mine,” Riley says loudly, wrapping an arm around Ariela and planting a big kiss on her lips. “Officially.”

“It's about time,” I say to him