"Oh wow. I forgot. You're a baby fishie." (So odd to think of her as a Freshman.) "Shut up."
The driver drops my bags, Dawson grabs them and leads me into a gorgeous house.
"So um, lots of people showed up, so um..."
"What? Why are you acting all nervous? Do you have an old girlfriend here or someone else you like because you didn't think I'd be here?"
"No." He shakes his head at me. "What I was gonna say, well, ask, if it's okay, if you like um, bunk up with me. I took the master bedroom."
"So I'd be sleeping with you?"
"Yeah, but, I mean, we'd just sleep, and there's a couch in there. I can sleep on that if it makes you more comfortable. I'm not expecting, you know, sex or anything. Well, I, uh, do wanna kiss you some more, for sure, but you know what I mean, right?
I smile at him. He is seriously so sweet. (Especially on the tail of what transpired with B. It makes him seem even sweeter.) "Okay."
I follow him into the master. I've stayed at some incredible five star resorts, on yachts, our Malibu house was photographed for Architectural Digest, but this room is stunning. Huge colonial pineapple four poster bed, sweeping ocean views, private deck out the multitude of french doors, which are open, causing the gauzy white sheers to flutter in the wind.
"Wow. This room is beautiful. I may never leave."
He gets a sexy smile, drops my bags onto the floor, takes my purse off my shoulder, then peels off my white gauze shirt off my shoulders.
He drops it on the bed and stands back, scrutinizing every inch of my bikini clad body.
All he manages to mutter before he kisses me is, "Damn."
We kiss a bit, and then he says, "Come on. I'll show u the rest of the downstairs and most importantly the deck, the pool, the beach. Hey, do you play tennis?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Cool. I'm gonna have to beat you at that. I'm house champ."
"Really?"
Um, did I mention I took private lessons from the guy that won Wimbledon two years ago because my mom was filming a movie about a country club wife and had to perfect her backswing? Yeah. I think I might surprise him. (Also cut. God, is it just me or does she sound like such a little b*tch here?) The rest of the house, the view, the grounds are almost as breath taking as the bedroom. As we walk through the big white kitchen, he points out a brunch spread on the island and asks if I am hungry. I say, not yet, so he gets me a drink instead.
It's a pretty pink summer punch. I take a drink and am shocked by the potent alcohol taste.
"Jeeze, what's in this?"
He laughs, "That's our special Kool-Aid." (Always drink the Johnson bros Kool-Aid!) We walk out to the pool, drinks in hand, and he introduces me to everyone I don't know, and I say hey to the ones I do. Riley, Dallas, Carson, Tyrese, Parker, and Ace. (Carson? Chop. Chop.) The rest are a combination of school friends and old friends. Everyone seems pretty well primed with alcohol already. There's also only me and three other girls out of the 20 or so people staying here. (Also, K ended up being the only girl staying there in the published version.) "I didn't sign up for a sausage fest," Parker says. "Let's hit the beach."
Ace agrees, "Yeah, we need to take a bunch of that Get drunk and screw punch with us."
"Naw," Riley says, "that's not how its done. You bring them back here, and then let them drink the Kool-Aid. But we can take a little for ourselves." (Riley<3) Dawson gives me a piggy back ride down to the beach.
And wow. He's so tall and dark and strong and dreamy. Brooklyn used to give me piggyback rides, but I sometimes felt like I was as big as him. I feel small compared to Dawson, and I love that. I throw my arms around him, and I can't help but plant a few little kisses on his neck. Riley and most of the boys have surf and boogie boards with them.
I'm laying here in the sand with Dawson. He's laying on his side, and I just finished telling him all about my reunion with Brooklyn.
"Wow, that's pretty low. Especially since he wanted you to spend the weekend. And to do that with another girl while you were there, that's like effed up."
I laugh, "Sounds like something your brother would do." I watch Riley out by the water talking to three very pretty girls. Does he know those girls?"
"Heck, I don't know."
"Wait! This is your whoredom, isn't it? Wow, do all the girls know you?"
He looks embarrassed.
"Uh, some. Honestly, most of the times I hooked up this summer, I was like pretty drunk. The whole summer's sorta a blur."
Sorry, but I'm kinda glad about that.
Even though there are people around, I feel sorta like we are the only two people here.
"Did I tell you how much I like this bikini?" He's playing with one of the strings.
"Um no, I don't think you did."
He runs a single sandy finger down my arm, and even in the blazing sun, my body does a little shiver. (Oh, Dawson!) He notices.
Grins. "I just gave you goosebumps. It's hot out."
"I got a chill, ocean breeze, you know."
"You're lying." He grazes his thumb across my bottom lip. Is staring at me.
"I think you look ridiculously hot in your dance uniform, so I don't know why I was so surprised by how amazing you look in a bikini. It took all my willpower not to undo these strings," he touches the string on one side of my bikini bottoms, "in the bedroom, not come out for days."
I laugh, "Don't you have to take me back to the house and feed me some Kool-Aid first?"
I take a drink and smirk at him.
He squints his eyes at me.
I laugh, "I have to give you some shit. I can't help it."
His face get serious. "That's not how I want it to be with you."
"What do you mean?"
"Pretty much all the sex I've had, one of us has been drunk, usually both of us. Even Peyton, like I probably shouldn't tell you this, but she never really wanted to. She felt guilty or something, so pretty much she had to get drunk to want me." He's lazily playing with a strand of my hair. "When we do it, like for the first time, whenever that is, I wanna do it right. Like romantic. Not sloppy and drunk."
"Dawson."
"Yeah."
"I wanted you to take off my bikini in the bedroom, and I hadn't had a single drink." (Hot.) He stares at me for a couple beats. Kisses me. Is practically laying on top of me kissing me. And it's a different kind of kiss than his usually sweet romantic kisses. This is an I want you now kiss, and it takes my breath away.
Cold water suddenly splashes all over Dawson's back and hits my arms. He goes, "Ahhh," and jumps up.
Riley is standing there with a sand bucket in his hand, grinning. "Jeeze Dawes, you're gonna get us fined for indecency. Besides, this girl needs to show us her surfing skills. The waves have picked up some. Dawson gets up, chases Riley down the beach and tackles him, while I take off my necklace and my wedges.
"Wish me luck," I tell Dawson, as I jog by him with a surf board.
Riley and Ace grabs boards and paddle out with me. Riley sees a decent wave come in, it's small, I mean there won't be a curl or tube to ride through, but it's big enough to ride back to shore. He paddles out, stands up, goes about twenty feet. Crashes.
Ace takes the next one, doesn't even get up all the way standing before he bites it.
I wait out three more waves, there's a bigger one building. I catch it, ride it easily, carving back and forth through the water, and take it all the way until the board glides up on the beach.
Dawson grabs me, kisses me, and says, "That was amazing."
"That wave was like the bunny hills you learn to snow ski on."
"It knocked my brother down."
"Yeah, well his foot placement is all wrong, and he's leaning too far forward."
"Don't tell him that, I like to see him crash and burn. I have some great videos."
A couple hours later, the punch we brought is gone, and everyone is feeling good and worn out from playing in the surf. We decide to go back to the house, chow down some sandwiches.
After lunch, I tell Dawson, "I'm kinda tired."
"Oh, come with me." He leads me into the bedroom, then out one of the sets of french doors to a screened porch with a big padded hammock blowing in the breeze.
"Best place in the house for a nap. Come on."
We snuggle up in the hammock. I put my head on his chest. We kiss for while and then fall into a happy sleep.
I'm awakened by him stirring in the hammock. My face is right by his neck, so I kiss it. Other than my kissing him at the football game, I really haven't been initiating stuff with him. I'm mostly letting him kiss me. But after his comment, his feeling like Peyton didn't really want him, I figure, he needs to feel wanted. So I'm kissing up his neck, my leg's tossed across his.
He says, "You realize we just slept together." He laughs.
"Yeah we did."
He runs his hand like he did in the picture. Gently pulling my hair off my face. Says, "I think you need to keep doing that." Pulls me on top of him. I kiss gently down his neck, teasing him, driving him nuts, I'm hoping.
I sit up, my knees still straddling him. Then I lean down, kiss down his neck, down his chest, run my hands in a little tickle down the sides of his abs.
He can't take it. He moans, grabs me, and tries to flip me over. He apparently wants on top of me, but uh, yeah, I think he maybe forgot we are in a hammock because he rolls up over the side of the hammock. The hammock flips, he falls onto the floor on his back, with me falling right on top of him.
"Shit," he mutters, but then laughs. "I'm real smooth, huh?"
I reply with a long, deep, slow kiss.
Then he manages to flip me over, pinning me against the floor under his weight. He's kissing my neck, down my chest, moving his hips against mine, untying my bikini top, taking in what he sees, kissing what he saw, and my body is enjoying this. And the way he is moving his hips, how's he's maneuvered himself between my legs, how I'm hot, my body is ready for him. And I know he wants me. But we said we were gonna take it slow, and this, wonderful as it my be, is moving a lot faster than slow.
"Dawson," I manage to breath out.
"Hmm??" He smiles at me, kisses me.
"Uh. I thought we were gonna take things like slow."
"Maybe we should rethink that."
God, he's dreamy.
I squint my eyes at him.
He kisses me again, says, "No, you're right."
But what he says and what he does are two entirely different things. He's kissing me deeply again, running his hands through my hair, across my back, each one of his hands covers each one of my butt cheeks and pulls them in tighter towards him. Slamming my pelvis into his, his hardness is pushing on what little there is of my bikini bottoms.
Shit.
"Dawson".
"Don't worry, Keatie. We're not. Not yet anyways." (Is this the first place he says Keatie? He didn't tell her why!) Then he gets up, snatching his hardness away from me. I'm left lying on the floor, my body saying, But wait!!!!! Your brain may have been saying no, but your body majorly disagrees. Get him back here!!!!!
But I let him pull me up, instead of pulling him back down on top of me.
"Let's go get a drink, see what everyone's up to."
We drink more, eat more, relax more, kiss more, swim more, hot tub more, and drink more Kool-Aid.
We are both a little tipsy, well, maybe kinda drunk. And I'm feeling a little naughty. I drag him back to the bedroom and start attacking him.
I'm taking off his polo, undoing his shorts, sliding them off him.
He stops me, "Keatie, we talked about this. We're not gonna do it drunk. We'll wait."
I laugh, "Yeah, you're right."
Then I drop down on my knees in front of him, look up at him in question, and he says, "Uh, well, that'd probably be okay." (I'm sure it would be, Dawson.) Sunday, September 4th So um, last night.
Too freaking early Wake up to sunlight streaming in the windows. Look at the clock. It's freaking sunrise early.
I feel a bit fuzzy, confused about where I am, and thirsty. I look down and see I slept in my bikini.
Dawson walks out of the bathroom, board shorts on, looking sexier than ever.
Maybe I should pull him into bed with me.
"So the early bird gets the surf. Us guys always go out and surf at sunrise, then we come back and eat a huge ass breakfast. Come with us. Or do you want to sleep some more? The girls always sleep in."
"I slept in my swimsuit?"