“Maybe. You swear you're over Whitney?”

“I swear.”

“Then I think I need another goodnight kiss.”

“I’m on my way.”

I crack the window, letting in the chilly night air, then run into my closet, using my phone as a flashlight and jumping over the pile of textbooks that are scattered across my floor.

I throw on a soft knit nightie as I hear my window open and shut. I grab a cashmere blanket off my chair, wrap it around my shoulders, and walk toward my bed where Dawson is diving under the covers.

“It's cold out,” he whispers.

I slide under the covers, wrapping him up in the blanket with me.

He's a little tipsy and looks really tired. “Are you tired?”

“Very, are you?”

“Yeah.”

“So you just wanted a goodnight kiss, huh, Keatie?”

“That and . . .” I run my hands through his hair, stalling. Then I decide to be fearless and go for it. “I wanted to tell you something.”

“And what's that?”

“I wanted you to know that I more than heart you, Dawson.”

I can feel him smiling as he kisses me. “Hearting me is good enough.”

“No, it's not, and it's not how I feel.” I kiss the side of his neck, just below his ear, and finally say it, “I love you, Dawson.”

Thursday, September 29th

Do I look guilty?

Lunch

When my alarm went off at 6:30, Dawson was gone. But when I got in the shower and shut the shower curtain, I noticed something on the top of my hand.

In black permanent marker, he drew a heart.

And I’ve been smiling at it all day long.

I’ve been smiling at my shoes too. I’d been saving these Prada two-tone black and red Mary Jane platform pumps for a worthy occasion. And a new relationship with sexy Dawson is just such occasion. I paired them with a black Burberry stretch silk cinched-waist blouse, my red cardigan, plaid skort, black over the knee socks with ribbon ties, and an adorable Longchamp furry red clutch.

I’m getting ready to walk into the cafe, when Peyton grabs my arm and says, “Oh my god. Why did you let me drink so much?”

“Why did you let yourself drink so much?”

She pulls me into the girls' bathroom, looks under all the stalls, and then leans against the counter with a thud.

“Jake and I hooked up.”

“Hooked up, hooked up? Or, like, made out hooked up?”

“We hooked up.” She throws her arms in the air. “In my brother's bed!”

“Eww. What if he had walked in?”

She grabs my shoulders and gets in my face. “What. If. Whitney. Finds. Out?”

“How would she? Jake’s not going to tell her. I’m certainly not gonna tell her. Dawson didn't see you kissing. What's up with you and Jake anyway? You seemed very familiar even before you got drunk.”

“We used to go out. It was a long time ago.”

“You're cute together," I say with a grin.

She buries her head in her hands and cries, “You don’t even understand. She knows things."

“Oh, I understand perfectly. But don't worry, I won't say anything. You have my word.”

“I just pray she doesn’t find out.”

“Don't act guilty then.”

She looks at herself in the mirror. “Do I look guilty?”

“Mostly, you look hung over but, yes, right now, you do. But that's probably because you're kind of freaking out.”

She runs her hand through her perfect long blonde waves and says, “Shit. I cannot let her find out but, at the same time, I would kind of like her to know. It just really pisses me off how she's prancing around with Jake and acting like them being Homecoming King and Queen is a given. Which is funny since this was always supposed to be her and Dawson's big year." She rolls her eyes. "The culmination of all her work."

"Her work?"

Peyton purses her lips. "I shouldn't have said that but, in a way, sleeping with Jake feels sort of freeing." She stops and laughs. "Plus, he is really fun. Maybe I should just tell her." She nervously bites on the edge of a manicured nail. "You know, she did that to me. Found out that my college boyfriend was cheating on me. Embarrassed me in class by passing around a photo of him kissing another girl."

I think about how I could help. What could she do that wouldn't be a direct challenge, but would still piss Whitney off?

I smile. "Maybe you should find a Homecoming date who is hotter than Jake."

Peyton narrows her eyes. "Who here is hotter than Jake?"

"I don't know," I say. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

We stand in line, grab a couple salads, and then sit at the table. Dawson and Riley walk over and set their trays down next to me.

Peyton's face lights up, and I half expect her to say Dawson is hotter and she'll take him.

She stands up quickly and throws her arms around my shoulders in a hug. “You're brilliant.”

"Why are you brilliant?" Dawson asks, just as Whitney sits down and scoffs, "Yes, why are you brilliant?"

"Because I helped a friend with a problem, I think."

Whitney sneers. "So brilliant that you don't even know. Classic." She turns her back on us and starts chatting animatedly to Rachel about Jake's Homecoming proposal.

I face Dawson. "I think maybe Peyton wants to be your date."

He runs his hand up my thigh. "Peyton is hot, but she's been with my brother. I could never be with someone who’s been with one of my brothers. Speaking of brothers. Cam wants me to hang out with him this weekend."

"That sounds fun."

"You won't be mad if I go?"

"Should I be mad at you for wanting to see your brother?"

He wraps his arm around my neck and kisses my forehead. "You're the coolest girlfriend ever."

I'm about to ask him what he's going to do there that I would need to be cool about, but the dean stands up at the podium. "Before I announce this year's Homecoming Court, I'd like to remind you all to be on your best behavior while the alumni are our guests. I expect no shenanigans." He stops and stares directly at Riley. "The alumni are to be treated with the upmost respect. Now it's my honor to announce this year's Court."

He starts reading freshman and sophomore names off a list. "Riley, why did he stop and look at you?"

Riley whispers, "Remember I told you I got kicked out Freshman year?"

"Uh, huh."

"It may have been due to an incident during Homecoming."

" . . . Junior boys: Aiden Arrington, Logan Pedersen, and Nick Cosse. Junior Girls: Maggie Morgan, Keatyn Monroe, Ariela Ross. And lastly, our Senior Court: Jake Worth, Dawson Johnson, and Brad Stewart. And our lovely Queen candidates: Whitney Clarke, Peyton Arrington, and Mariah Sauer. Remember, if you are a football player, you will wear your uniform on the field during half time. And, as per tradition, all girls will wear a formal gown. All members will be accompanied on the field by their parents. Congratulations to this year's Homecoming court, and Go Cougars!"

I watch Whitney ball her hand into a fist and shake it when they call her name. She must really want this. She never shows such excitement over anything.

Dawson hugs me. "Congrats, Keatie! I can't believe you made it. You've only been here a month!"

Whitney says, "Why you think she's dating you, Dawson? She wants to be popular."

I want to leap over the table, grab Whitney by the shirt, and wipe the smug look off her face.

But, I don't.

"I'm not dating Dawson to be popular, Whitney." I say. "I'm dating him for hot sex."

Dawson drops his head onto my shoulder to hide his snickers.

"Classy."

"Hot sex isn't supposed to be classy, Whitney. But speaking of classy, I heard how Jake asked you to Homecoming last night. How he tied a note to a certain body part."

Rachel and the other minions look at Whitney in surprise. I have a feeling she didn't tell them the complete truth.

Whitney recovers quickly. “He wrapped it around his ankle."

I laugh. “So I heard. I also heard that wasn't the first place you looked." I turn to Dawson. "Come on, my future Homecoming King. Walk me to class."

"My pleasure," he says, getting up and escorting me out of the café.

As I'm sitting in French class, waiting for the bell to ring, I'm thinking about texting Kym and asking her to find me a gown. But I decide that it might be fun to go shopping in New York this weekend instead. Dawson will be out of town, so I'll ask the girls if they want to make a weekend out of it. I’m also wondering who in the world I’m going to get to escort me on the field.

Me: I need your help.

My phone rings.

“What’s wrong?” Garrett asks me.

"Um, nothing. I made Homecoming Court. My parents are supposed to escort me. It's a big deal here, so I just thought maybe . . ."

Aiden and Annie sit in their desks next to me. ". . .Um, maybe, my uncle could come."

"I'm sorry. Your mom is planning a trip, so I have a lot on my mind."

"Is something going wrong with the trip?"

"It's my job to make sure nothing goes wrong."

"Oh, okay. So it's next Friday night. Will that work?"

His voice softens. "I'll make it work, Keatyn."

I smile. "Thank you."

Annie screams, "Congrats on Court! Oh my gosh, Keatyn, I'm so excited for you. And a little jealous, too. I wish I could get a gorgeous long gown.”

Scripted out her perfect life.

Soccer.

We're finishing up soccer practice when Peyton smiles and whispers to me, "Done."

"What's done?"

"I have a date who is hotter than Jake and, no offense, hotter than Dawson."

"Who?"

"Dawson's older brother, Camden. But don't tell anyone. I want it to be a surprise. I've been telling Whitney that I don't have a date. That I'm probably going stag. She's been pitying me."

“Why don't you want her to know?"

"Because that's who Whitney really wanted." She leans in close and speaks quietly. "Dawson doesn't even know this. He thought she was a virgin when they did it, but her first time was really with Cam."

As we jog into the locker room, I think about Dawson. How hurt and disgusted he would be if he ever found out the truth.

While I’m changing out of my soccer clothes, Peyton is still spilling. "He totally used her then ditched her. So she settled for Dawson. Told me that she knew he'd grow up to be almost as hot and planned their perfect senior year in detail."

"She scripted out her perfect life?" Wow. Whitney and I aren’t really that different.

I mean, except for the whole bitch part.

Peyton nods, "Exactly."

"So you're taking Cam to rub her face in it?"

"Yep," she says proudly, tightening her ponytail. "I'm tired of her crap. Tired of her telling me who I should date. What I should do. How I should dress. I'm going on record right now." She stands in the center of the locker room and yells out, "I hate square-heeled grandma shoes!" Then she takes a pair of sensible navy pumps out of her locker and whips them into the trash.

I can't help but flash back to Cush taking off the boots that were trying to kill me and how freeing it felt. How it was about more than just a pair of shoes that didn't fit. I was trying to free myself of Vanessa.

She goes on. "I'm popular. I'm in every freaking activity there is. I should just make my own group. Tell her to fuck off."

I scrunch up my nose. "Um, yeah, that might not be the best idea."

She wraps her arm around my shoulder. "And you are just the girl to be my new best friend."

"Um . . ."

She holds up her hand, shushing me. "No. Please. Don't say anything. Let me revel in the freedom."

"Uh, okay," I say, but I'm thinking, Shit. What did I just get myself into?

Be a rock star.

4:45pm

I stop to get hot chocolates for the girls after dance practice and when I get to our room, Katie, Maggie, and Annie are surrounding Katie's desk.

Katie turns to me. "Keatyn, come here! You have to listen to our new favorite song. And you should see the video. Hang on, I’m going to pull it up. The lead singer. Holy shit. He is so freaking hot. But, like, dreamy. And, I swear, it feels like he's singing to you. Like you're the only girl in the world."

As she pulls up the video, I see the name Twisted Dreams dance across the screen.

I slowly drop down onto her bed.

"It's not a real video," she continues. "Apparently, they played this song for the first time at a concert in Stockholm and the crowd went crazy. So the next concert—well, watch. You'll see."

The big stage is completely dark except for a spotlight shining down on Damian, who is sitting on a stool holding a microphone. His guitar strap is across the front of his chest; his guitar pushed around to his back. His head is down and his dark bangs are shagging over his closed eyes. The song starts out slow with only his soulful voice.

She's the kind of girl

Everybody wants be.

But no one sees what's inside,

Or that she cries herself to sleep.

But I see, baby, yeah, I see.

She's Miss Popular,