"How did Whitney find out?"

"We were roommates. She thought I was lying to her about something, so she followed me one night. Even took pictures of us, um, together."

"Oh my gosh."

"She threatened to tell the school. Said I was going to get expelled. She hated me because of Cam. I know, in retrospect, he probably would’ve gotten fired and I wouldn't have been in trouble. Clearly, I was underage when it happened. But I didn't want to upset my parents. And now, if she showed the pictures, it would ruin his marriage, get him fired, and definitely get me expelled."

"Were you more popular than her? Back then?"

She shrugs and wipes a tear from her eye. "Maybe. I didn't really think of it that way. I made dance team and she didn't. But I didn't think she really cared. She didn't seem to want to get involved in any activities. I signed up for everything. Figured if I stayed busy, I wouldn't have to think about stuff."

“The other day in the locker room, when you threw away the shoes . . .”

“Wasn’t that great? It felt so freeing. And she always makes snide comments about our dance outfits. I think it’s because she’s jealous.”

“If she tried out and didn’t make it, I’m sure she is. Did she try out the next year?”

“No. Ever since, she acts like she’s too good for it.” Peyton snickers. “Really, it’s that she’s just not a very good dancer.”

Better than naked chests?

French

Although Peyton wants to skip the rest of the day, I tell her that I need to get to French.

“My brother has really started enjoying French,” she teases.

“He doesn’t enjoy it. He just likes it better because he’s not so close to failing anymore. Takes some of the pressure off.”

She looks at the clock. “You better scoot, then. I think I’m going to stay here. Maybe take a nap.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you before the game.”

I slide into my desk just before the tardy bell rings.

From behind me Aiden says, “Congrats on the play. I told you you’d get the part.”

I flip around. “What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you hear the cast announcement at lunch?”

“No! I skipped lunch. I was helping your sister with some Social Committee stuff. Well, sorta.”

“You’re playing the part of the Cheerleader Bachelorette.”

I let out a loud shrill. “Ahhhh!”

Miss Praline goes, “Keatyn?”

I flip back around. “I can’t help it. I’m so excited!”

Aiden explains, “She just found out she got the role she wanted in the school play.”

“Well, that’s nice, Miss Monroe. Congratulations.”

“I’m excited for you, Keatyn,” Annie says. “But I’m even more excited for tomorrow.”

I grab her arm. “Oh, I didn’t tell you about tonight, did I? Riley is going to ask Ariela right before the game. We’re writing Homecoming? on a football and he’s going to pass it to her during warm ups.”

“Oh, that’s so cute!”

“And she’ll be able to keep the football. I kind of wish I had something to keep.”

“Me too,” Annie says. “Although I do have a screen shot of him asking me. And Maggie took pictures.”

I think about Aiden’s Homecoming stars.

I spin around to ask him. “What ever happened with your stars, Aiden? I keep thinking I’ll see someone post them on Facebook.”

“What stars?” Annie asks.

Aiden ignores Annie and says in a stern voice, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I turn back around.

Why doesn’t he want to talk about it?

Oh my gosh. Is he embarrassed because she said no?

And who in their right mind would have said no?

I think about what Shark said in detention that day. What was it? Something about Aiden and the dream girl. Or waiting for the dream girl.

Who is this dream girl and what the hell is her problem?

Is she blind?

I sneak a peek at Aiden.

His head is down. But I can see his arms. His lightly bronzed skin. His blond hair, which he’s been pushing over to the side instead of spiking up because it needs to be cut. He’s doodling on his notebook, causing the muscle in his forearm to flex the same way it did when he trapped me against the wall the other night. When he said, Date us both.

Is that what he wanted to do? Date both me and the Homecoming girl?

Ugghh. Riley was right. He is so the player.

But my curiosity gets the best of me, so I write him a note.

I close my eyes and think about lying next to him. His pinkie just touching mine.

He whispers in my ear. “You better be there, or I’ll quit Social Committee.”

“So quit. I’m tired of you telling me that. If you don’t want to be there, then just quit.”

He leans up a little closer and sighs, his breath warming the side of my face. “I need you. Please?”

I turn around to tell him I’ll try, but when I do my check smashes straight into his lips.

“You want me to kiss you, all you have to do is ask. You don’t have to try and be all sneaky about it.”

I whip my head forward, flipping my hair in his stupid face. “Kissing you is the last thing I want to do,” I mutter.

“In your life?”

“What?”

“Are you telling me that will be your dying wish? It’s the last thing I want to do. Have his lips on mine. Then I can die happy,” he says dramatically.

“You really should’ve tried out for the play. Drama king.”

“I’m not a drama king.”

“Ha! Everything about you is drama.” I turn back around and smirk at him. “Big production. But no one is buying the tickets.”

“And you’re the little production that gets out of hand. Turns into a massive time and money pit. Then goes straight to DVD.”

I think about something sad and let tears come to my eyes. “That’s harsh.” I dab the corner of my eye for effect. Hang my head down a little.

I’m so sad.

His face completely softens. I can tell he feels bad.

“I was just teasing. I already told you that you’d get amazing reviews and I . . .”

I slowly let my face break into a wide shit-eating grin.

“Seriously? You can bring on the fake tears that easily?”

I shrug a shoulder. “It’s a gift.”

A good send off.

3:30pm

We don’t have dance practice, since there’s a game tonight, so I drag Dawson to his room to kiss him.

Actually, I’m thinking about doing more than kissing him. His parents are coming for the game and he’s going back home with them, so I won’t get to see him later. And he’s going to be hanging out with his brother and lots of other girls.

I’m thinking he needs a good send off. And I have the perfect thing for that.

I reach down and skim my hand across the front of his pants.

Dawson gives my body a squeeze. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“You don’t want me?” I pout.

Shit. Maybe Riley is right. Maybe I should be worried.

He pushes himself against me, so I can feel that his body does want me.

“I do want you, but you’ll wear me out. I need to be fresh for this game. St. Thomas is a big rival, and I thought you had to tutor Aiden?”

"I thought you were jealous of Aiden?"

"Well, that was before. When I thought he liked you."

“And now you think he doesn't?"

"It's pretty obvious that he doesn't. He could’ve taken advantage of what happened last weekend. Instead, he told Riley about it. So that Riley would tell me. I was wrong to be jealous. He’s obviously not into you, so I'm fine with you tutoring him. I mean, we do need him. He's our starting kicker and since Cole got hurt, he’s starting at receiver too. We don't want him to get kicked off the team because he’s failing.”