Authors: Jillian Dodd
He told me on the train how he was going to go slow today. Kiss every part of my body. Touch every square inch of me. But that all seems forgotten now.
This is fast and furious. A lot like the first time we did it. Hard. Fast. Primal.
Now he’s kissing me sweetly, grazing his lips across my cheeks, and up by my hairline.
“So much for our plan,” I say.
“I’m sorry, I just, I don’t know what you do to me. No one has ever made me like this. I just want you so badly I can hardly stand it. It’s like I’m an animal.” He laughs, then gets serious. “We’re, like, amazing together.”
“Can we tour the rest of the loft now?”
“As long as you stay dressed like that.”
“Uh, I’m not dressed.”
“Exactly.”
“Dawson, we
have
to go shopping today. I’m going to find a dress for Homecoming.”
“You got a date I don’t know about?”
“No, I don’t have a date yet. But I’m going, and I’m gonna need a dress.”
“And I get to watch you try them on?”
“You get to see me in them but, no, you don’t get to be in the dressing room with me. But I would like your opinion. I want to look good.”
“Dang. And I was just thinking how good you look naked.”
“I’m not naked. I still have on my boots.”
I grab a cashmere throw off the chair and try to wrap it around me as he picks me up and says, “Which way to the bedroom?”
I giggle and point in the direction that I think it’s in. I thought I had memorized the floor plan.
He manages to find the master bedroom and throws me on the bed.
Then he proceeds to do all the things he threatened to do to me.
Slowly kissing me, rubbing me, torturing me, really, until I can’t wait anymore.
Then it is slow. Amazing. Almost tender.
The real you.
12:30pm
I’m almost asleep when I remember and jump up out of bed.
“Ohmigawd!”
“What?”
“My closet.”
“What about your closet?”
“You’re going to think I’m crazy, Dawson, but I want to close my eyes. Will you open the door and turn on the lights for me?”
He looks at me like I am crazy, but pulls on his boxers and walks to my closet door. I close my eyes and hear a door open. A light switched on.
He grabs my hand and leads me. “Open your eyes.”
I look around. The black and white brocade wallpaper. The black lacquered chandelier. The hot pink Louis VIII chair. The soft flokati rug.
“You decorated your closet?” Dawson asks. He doesn’t get it.
“It’s my closet.” I tell him, but I tell myself,
You did this on your own, Keatyn. You’re doing it. You’re starting over. Living a new life. And you’re going to be okay.
“What’s this?” Dawson says, pointing at a shoebox with a bow wrapped around it.
I open the box and nestled inside pale champagne tissue paper are my shoes. The shoes from my birthday party. The shoes that are still the most beautiful shoes I have ever seen. I remember the joy I felt when I found them. I remember telling Kym we had to find a dress to do them justice.
Then I remember one of the shoes falling off when Vincent was dragging me to the door. I look at the right shoe. See the little scuff across the toe from when I tried to dig my toes into the carpet. I pick up the left shoe. The heel dangles, broken.
These shoes aren’t just beautiful, graceful, and unique. They are also survivors.
Just like me.
I open the card.
I thought you needed to be reunited with footwear that is the real you. -G
I hold the card to my chest and smile.
Just like my shoes, I’m still here.
Cush and I are over. Finished.
Brooklyn and I over. Finished.
I’m starting a new life.
I look at my closet and smile at all the empty racks.
“Dawson, you better get dressed. We have some serious shopping to do.”
I drag Dawson to all my favorite stores and most of the ones on Kym’s list. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t get to them all. I found a gorgeous dress.
All the dresses she picked out were really pretty, but only one had Dawson all hot and bothered. It’s a Valentino dress made of black lace. It has a banded waist with a macramé style, almost sunflower patterned skirt. It’s fitted and short. The top of the dress is asymmetrical, off one shoulder, tied at the top with a small bow. It has a nude colored backing behind the lace, so there is the slight illusion that you are naked and the lace is just there to cover certain body parts.
It’s gorgeous, classy, but still very sexy.
I also really love the Louboutin double platform sandals she picked out to go with it. The heels are so tall, and combined with the short dress, they make my legs look miles long.
“Hey, do you have some more shopping you need to do?” Dawson asks me as I’m paying for the dress.
“I wouldn’t mind shopping a little more before we leave.”
“Okay, good. I thought maybe I’d run and get something. I’ll meet you back here in, say, an hour?”
“Uh, sure. Where are you going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Um, okay. So, I guess I’ll head to the shoe department.”
“I should have known that.”
He gives me a kiss and rushes off.
As I walk to the shoe department, I wonder why Dawson hasn’t asked me to go to Homecoming with him yet. One of the seniors on the dance team got asked this week. Her boyfriend put a bunch of helium balloons in her dance locker along with a rose and a note. When she opened her locker all the balloons floated out. It was really cute and she was screeching with excitement, which I thought was sort of odd since they’ve been dating for a year. Another girl got a bunch of cupcakes at lunch. And one of the cheerleaders got asked by a football player over the loudspeaker at the game last night.
He left Whitney’s stupid weekend to be with me. He wants to give me the key to his heart. He must like me. But nagging in the back of my mind is his voice from that night at the cave, telling Dallas and me his goal was to take Whitney to Homecoming. And now that she and Jake are broken up, there’s nothing to stop him.
I forget to worry when I see all the shoes.
And boots.
All lined up by designer.
It’s like paradise. Or mecca. Or whatever.
All I have to say is it’s amazing how many pairs of shoes and boots you can try on and buy in a measly sixty minutes.
I’m laden down with packages when gorgeous Dawson comes strolling back in, bag swinging in his hand.
Literally every shoe shopper’s head turns when he walks by. He is that good looking. Even the old ladies can’t help but stare.
It makes me feel very lucky.
He walks up to me and kisses my cheek. “You leave any shoes for anyone else?” he says, eyeing all my shopping bags.
“There’s not that many pairs, I swear. Boots just take up a lot of room. What did you buy?” I ask curiously.
“You’ll see later.”
As we’re getting in a cab, he says, “Hey, do you think it would be okay if we meet my parents for brunch tomorrow? Riley told them I was in town and now they want to meet you.”
“That’d be cool.”
“So, back to the loft?” he says with a wink.
Back at the loft, I finally get to look around and find that my pantry and fridge have been stocked with some basics, including wine, champagne, water, sodas, caviar, hard cheeses, smoked salmon, and some frozen dinners.
While I put my purchases in my closet and change into the new robe I bought, Dawson pops a bottle of champagne. We decided in the taxi that we’d just order in some food. At school we are constantly around people. We’re looking forward to spending some time completely alone.
He sets the glasses and bottle down, grabs my robe belt, and unties it. “Much better,” he says, looking down at me, basically naked again. “I think we should just be naked until we have to go back to school.”
“It’s going to be hard to have brunch with your parents if I’m naked.”
He smiles and pours us each a drink, then puts his glass up in the air. “Here’s to my beautiful naked girl.”
“I’m not drinking to my nakedness.”
He runs his hand down my stomach. “Oh, but you should.”
“Dawson! Stop that! We need to order food. I’m starving.”
“Me too, but it’s not my fault you’re so damn sexy, and you make me want you. All the time.”
I turn my back on him, let the robe slide off my shoulders, and walk naked into the bedroom.
He follows me like a dog after a bone. “Oh, you’re in trouble now.”
After dinner, Dawson says, “I bought dessert. That’s what’s in the bag.”
“Yum. What did you get?”
“Okay, so close your eyes.”
I close them.
I can hear him banging around in the kitchen and pretty soon he’s back in front of me.
“Okay, open.”
In front of me is a sinful looking triple layer chocolate cake and two forks.
It reminds me of the cake Brooklyn bought me for my birthday. The cake I made a wish on.
And ended up here.
Is fate trying to tell me something?
He puts a piece on a fork, holds it up to my mouth, and I decide to forget about fate.
“Oh my, it is so good. Seriously, almost orgasmic.”
Even though he threatened me with torture of some kind, I couldn’t sit at the dinner table and eat naked.
But after eating cake, I do suggest the hot tub. The water is warm and all the city lights are gorgeous in an urban way. Not the beach, but very pretty.
“This is really romantic,” he tells me.
“Yeah, I like it.”
And then he starts kissing me again.
And we all know where that leads.
Monday, September 26th
One. Perfect. Horny. Detail.
Ceramics
I elbow Jake. “I heard you and Whitney got back together.”
“And I heard you and Dawson
got
together.”
“We went shopping. Had dinner. If that’s what you mean.”
“Aww, come on, Monroe. Give us some of the dirty details. Dawson never tells us anything good.”
“Does that mean he tells you stuff that’s bad?”
“You know what I mean. You were all alone in what he described as the ultimate party loft. He said the place gave him a boner just walking in at the thought of the sin that could be accomplished there.”
“Hmmm, well, that explains things.”
“Explains what?”
“Why he was all hot and bothered the minute we walked in the door. Here I thought it was me.”
“Come on. One detail. One. Perfect. Horny. Detail.”
I roll my eyes at him. “If Dawson had his way, we would’ve been naked the whole time.”
“So you were naked all weekend?”
“Maybe.”
“If you were naked, that means you did it,” Bryce says.
“Not necessarily. Maybe I’m like a piece of art. You can look but you can’t touch.”
“Dawson is too fucking happy to have just looked,” Jake says.
“Maybe he’s into art,” I say with a raised eyebrow.
“Maybe he’s into you.”
“So tell me what Whitney said.”
“We didn’t actually get back together yet, but she did say she was sorry. Says she will apologize to you.”
“You know that she won’t.”
He nods. “She also says she was just looking out for him.”
“And you believe that?”
He scrunches up his nose and laughs. “No, but she seemed
very
eager to please me.”
Bryce pats him on the shoulder. “Dude. Makeup sex is the best.”
“So I might as well enjoy it. Make her pay a little,” Jake says.
“Jake, you crack me up. You’re using the one person who uses everyone else, and you’re getting away with it. You might be a better salesman than I thought.”
Bryce cracks up laughing and our teacher shushes him.
As we’re walking toward the student center for lunch, Jake and Bryce tell me they have to go do something for football real quick, but that Dawson wants me to wait at the table for him. That they’ll be there shortly.
“Um, no thanks. I don’t have a death wish.”
“Just sit there, Monroe, and don’t let her give you any shit.”
I sigh big. “Fine.”
I’m actually kind of excited to see Whitney. I hope she looks me up and down and gives me a dirty look. It will mean that I look good. Today is the first day that I haven’t worn one of Kym’s looks. I’m wearing a look I put together myself. As you would expect, it started with a new pair of shoes: deep red suede Louboutin T-strap platforms with leopard heels. I paired them with the plaid skort, a cream-colored Dolce & Gabbana ruffled-front silk blouse, red silk headband, black cardigan, and a fun Juicy Couture charm bracelet.
As I’m confidently walking to the student center, I get a photo texted to me from Garrett.
I pull it up and see another photo of Vanessa with Bam. His arm is wrapped around her and she’s smiling coyly. She looks really happy. And I can’t help but hope that she is. I look a little closer and notice that she’s cropped them out of a group of people. I can see numerous body parts behind and around them.
Me: Another photo. Why?
Garrett: Look closely. At the arm on Vanessa’s right.
I enlarge the photo.
And feel like I’m going to throw up.
Not only is a scrolly Abby tattoo clear, but Vincent has a new one.
Up on his wrist.
A chaos tattoo just like mine.
Me: Holy shit! He got a tattoo just like mine??!!!
Garrett: What? I just saw Abby.
Me: The Chinese symbol on his wrist is in almost the exact location as Brooklyn’s. It makes me feel sick. Do you think the security B has is sufficient or have they cut back too?