“Of swaying their vote?”

I grin at him. “Yeah. But I don't want anyone to know. I want to sway quietly.”

“An underground campaign. Excellent.”

“Something like that. Whitney hates me. And I'm not doing it to be mean to her, but I just think a person that is more involved in school activities should win.”

“So Peyton or Mariah?”

“I'll vote for Peyton, and I hope she wins.”

Shark and I sit down on a newly vacated log. The couple that was sitting here has wandered off, hand in hand.

It makes me miss Dawson.

Directly across the circle of logs, right in my line of sight, is Aiden. Logan sitting on his left. Two girls on each side of them and three girls sitting in front of them in the dirt. Logan appears to be telling a story, and Aiden is occasionally interjecting a comment and laughing.

Aiden's blond hair is practically glowing in the moonlight. The shadows playing across his face make him look angular and more mature. And when he smiles, it's like a god reached down and touched the forest with light.

Shark pulls out a joint and lights it up as Peyton sits down next to him. “What's up, girlie?” Shark says to her.

“I hope you're sharing,” she replies.

He nods, takes a hit, and passes it to her. She takes a big hit, holding it in her lungs for a long time, then slowly breathes out and hands it to me. “Whitney's pissed at me.”

“Why?” I ask, as I pass the joint back to Shark.

“Because I'm going with you this weekend. And I didn't even mention a new dress. She would have come unglued.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That we’re shopping for dress-up days for the dance team.” She takes another deep hit. “Ah, much better.”

Aiden walks over and sits down next to his sister. Shark hands him another joint. As he sucks in, the stubble on the side of his face becomes more noticeable. All that light scruff.

I can sort of understand why the girls were literally sitting as his feet.

A girl leans down in front of Shark and whispers drunkenly, Let's hook up. He stands up, tells us, Duty calls, and leaves with the girl.

Peyton gives Aiden what appears to be some sort of godly telepathic message. They nod at each other and she says, “There's Brad. I need to talk to him.”

Leaving me sitting alone with Aiden.

“Where's the harem?” I ask, slightly sarcastically, as my phone vibrates.

Dawson: I lobe you

Me: I love you too.

Dawson: I druk.

Me: You’re drunk? Where are you?

Dawson: no shoes./'

Me: Where are you?

Dawson: gurl bed partzy

I feel like someone just stabbed me. My cell phone drops out of my hands.

Aiden picks my phone up, reads it, shakes his head, and hands it back to me.

"Um . . ." I look to Aiden, hoping he’ll say something reassuring. That all the awful thoughts I’m having about Dawson cheating couldn’t possibly be true.

But he doesn’t. He just looks at me. With those green eyes. Unfortunately, there’s no confidence in them, only sympathy.

He feels bad for me because he thinks Dawson is cheating on me.

And something else. Something that I always see when he looks at me. It’s like his eyes speak to me. Trying to get me to understand something. Something that resonates deep inside me.

But something that I don’t understand. It’s like being spoken to in a foreign language.

I don’t have a clue what it means.

But I do know what to do.

Me: Your brother is “druk,” can’t find his shoes, and is in a “gurl’s bed at a partzy.”

Riley: Shit.

Me: Yeah.

Aiden says, “Are you okay?”

“Not really. Have fun with the harem. I’m heading back to my room.”

“I’ll walk you. The harem will wait.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m fine.” Tears start leaking out of my eyes. I don’t want Aiden to see them, so I turn around and run. Run through the trees. Run to my dorm window. When I get there, I close my eyes, lean against the side of the building, and start to slide down into the grass.

Aiden is right there. He pins me against the brick wall, moves his leg between mine, and pushes his chest tightly against me.

He looks down at me, taking in my lips like he always does right before he kisses me.

But he doesn’t kiss me.

He shakes his head, wraps his arms around me, and hugs me.

Just hugs me.

Which really makes me start sobbing. “I’m never, ever telling a guy I love him again. It’s like I’m love cursed.”

He nuzzles his face into my hair and whispers soothingly, “You’re not love cursed. You just aren’t . . .”

“Just aren’t what?”

I feel his chest move deeply in and out, sighing against me. “Maybe he’s just drunk at the party. If he was hooking up, I doubt he’d stop to text you.”

“I think the hooking up is over and now he can’t find his shoes.”

“So you don’t trust him?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, when he left, did you trust him?”

“I did. He told me over and over not to worry. To trust him. That he loves me.”

“If he really loves you, he won’t cheat on you. Even if he’s drunk. You should have faith in the people you love. Maybe if you did, they wouldn’t let you down.”

I pull out of the hug and turn my back on him. “I’m going to cry alone in my room now. Thanks for your kind words,” I say sarcastically. But then I swing around madly. “So it’s my fault if he cheats?! That sounds like the kind of zen bullshit the Keats guy would tell me. I didn’t expect it from you. But I should have. It fits your whole player thing. The whole it’s-never-my-fault, take-no-responsibility-for-your-actions-because-it’s-easier-to-blame-fate, or cosmic forces, or someone else, than it is to admit that you just suck. Good night.”

He runs his hands down the sides of my arms and for reasons I don’t understand, it calms me down.

“Boots, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant that . . .” He pushes his hand through his hair, causing the ends to stick up a little. “Maybe the guy you’re with isn’t worthy of your love.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

My phone starts buzzing and buzzing.

“Who is it?” Aiden asks.

“It’s Riley,” I reply as I answer the phone. “Hey, Riley.”

“Where are you?”

“About to go in my room.”

“Cam wants to talk to you. I’ve got him on conference with me. Say hi, Cam.”

Cam says, in a voice that is almost identical to Dawson’s minus the sweetness, “Don’t be mad at him.”

“He’s texting me from a girl’s bed!”

“Yeah, a bed that he’s in alone.”

“No offense, Cam, but Riley told me about you. How you didn't think Dawson should have a girlfriend. I get it. You're a player. You want to have fun and not be tied down.”

He laughs. “Actually, I'd love to be tied down.” I hear him yell out to whoever is at the party. "Anyone got any rope? I want to be tied up."

“I said tied down.”

“Close enough,” he says with another laugh.

“It’s been great talking to you. Tell your brother when he sobers up not to bother calling me.”

“And you need to cool your panties. He didn't hook up with anyone. In fact, he sucks as a wingman now.”

“What do you mean?”

“He won't shut up about you. It’s hard to pick up girls when one of us is all panty whipped and talking about his amazingly hot girlfriend. So I did what I had to do. Got him drunk. Put him to bed.”

I let out an audible sigh and get tears of relief in my eyes. “He's really alone?”

“Yes. He’s crazy about you. I’m not gonna let him screw that up. At least not until I meet you. I gotta go. Just got a taker on the rope.”

Riley lets out a loud laugh then says to me, “You okay?”

“Do you think Cam’s telling the truth and not just covering for him?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then, yes, I’m okay. Thanks, Riley.”