Page 4 of Date Me (The Keatyn Chronicles 3)
"Shut up and think. What else is on the field?"
"The scoreboard?"
"Only has numbers. "
I get an idea. "A football! You could write it on the football and while you're warming up, call her name and toss it to her. And you could both sign it and date it afterwards. That'd be really cute. It'd be cool to have a keepsake. Speaking of that, I'd like a keepsake to remember how Dawson asked me. Can you stand in my room with your shirt off and an M painted on your chest?”
He flicks my nose. "Hey, that was for you. I was embarrassed to be seen shirtless. "
I laugh out loud. "Now that is bullshit. You'd walk around shirtless all day if they'd let you. "
He smirks at me. "I'd be better off if they'd let me walk around with no pants. Now that is impressive.
Hollywood royalty to trash.
Math
While we're supposed to be doing some math problems towards the end of class, I poke Logan, who sits in front of me.
"Hey, I heard you’re trying out for the play. What part do you want?"
"I'm trying out for the Bad Prince. You know, the guy that screws everything up for the trashy girl you want to play?” He looks down his nose at me, like I'm actual trash, then turns his back on me.
I purse my lips and scratch my temple.
I have to admit, this kind of response from a guy is sort of new to me. At my old school, well, anywhere really, boys who I didn't know seemed thrilled, almost honored when I talked to them.
What happened to me?
Why isn't he flirting with me? Is he like Whitney? Does he think I'm trash too?
I look down and scrutinize myself. Run my hand down a chunk of my hair. It's still blonde and shiny. My clothes are still cute. I check my reflection in my phone. My teeth are still white. My legs still long and tan.
How did coming to a new school cause me to go from Hollywood royalty to trash?
Classy is overrated.
Ceramics
Jake folds his arms across his chest and sits on the stool next to me. "So now I have to figure out a way to ask Whitney to Homecoming that is classy but compares to what Dawson did for you. You're stealing her spotlight, Monroe. She doesn't like it. "
"You must be high if you think I'd help plan anything for her. "
He shakes an adorable freckled finger at me. "See, that's where you're wrong. I am asking you to help me. Because I gave you vodka for your knee. Because I came back with Dawson and because I helped him ask you. That's what friends do. They help each other. "
I sigh. He's right. I need to be a friend back.
"I doubt I’ll be much help. No one did this kind of stuff at my old school. My last boyfriend didn't even ask me to the dance. He just told me to tell him what color my dress was so we could match. "
"Come on. You have good ideas. Brainstorm with me. Think romantic. "
"You could spell out Homecoming in rose petals on her bed. She could take a picture of it. She'd like that, wouldn't she? It'd be private. Classy. "
"I think she's thinking classy is overrated. "
"She wants you to top the dean's sizzling ass and a bunch of naked chests?"
"I think so. "
"Hmm. You could jump out of a plane with a heart-shaped parachute. You could streak across campus in nothing but a raincoat. You could . . . You know, it's really hard because she isn't really in anything. Like, guys have put stuff in the girl's dance locker. Or one guy asked on stage during drama. It was so cute. So that leaves you with lunch or maybe at a football game. "
"Keep going," he says. "You're thinking big now. And it's good you haven't been here to see all the ways people have asked. That means you should be able to come up with something new and creative. ”
I shake my head. Trying to come up with something.
"Paint it on the football field?"
"I can't do that. "
"Do it with rose petals then. "
"They'd blow away. "
"Balloons?"
"Not original. "
I throw my hands up in the air in frustration. “Then why don't you just hire a freaking airplane and fly a banner over the field?"
He gets a big smile on his face and fist bumps my ceramic deer. "I knew you'd come up with something. "
Embarrassment protection program.
4:40pm
Aiden is standing in front of me, expecting me to teach him how to dance. Why did I ever agree to this?
“This is silly,” I say. “I can’t teach you how to dance. Plus, I’m injured. ”
“I saw you jogging at soccer practice, even though I doubt you were supposed to. ”
I laugh. “I took another pain pill. Felt healed. ”
He stands there and stares at me. Knows he wins whatever game he’s trying to play. If I could jog, then I should be fine to dance. I sigh and figure I'll just get it over with. I turn on my favorite dance playlist, grab his hips, and move them to the beat. Move them with mine.
He moves awkwardly. Strangely. With no rhythm whatsoever.
Um, okay.
This is not working.
I turn around, stand in front of him, push my back into his chest, and pull his arm around to my stomach, where it presses against my bare skin.
Leaving a scar, I'm sure.
I shake my ass into him, and he finally seems to be getting it. He’s moving with a little more rhythm.
What can I say? I’m a good teacher.
I put my hands on top of his and move them around on my body in the name of dancing.
This would be even funner if we were naked.
Shit.
Hello? You can’t think that.
This is you helping a dance-disabled friend.
It’s practically philanthropic. I bet I could get community service hours for this.
After about six songs, Aiden spins me out of his arms and breaks out boy band dance moves.
“What the hell?” I say, shocked. “Do you used to be in a boy band? Are you here in some embarrassment protection program?”
He gives me a radiant smile.
I shake my head at him. “Don’t tell me you can sing too. ”
He walks close to me. “We’ll have to save that for another day, Boots. I don’t want to overwhelm you with all my talents at once. ”
“Everyone says you have great hands,” I blurt out.
“These?” he asks, holding them in front of my face.
I look at his hands.
Really look at them.
They’re beautiful.
Seriously, is there any part of him that's not complete perfection? I run my hand across them, searching for something. Then I find a scar that runs across his pinkie and middle finger. “What happened here?”
He laughs. “Knife attack. In the war. ”
“Very funny. ”
