"Like what do you mean?"

"Keatie, I love you. I don't want a baby now. I don't want a baby until I'm married, out of college probably, but if you were pregnant, right now, I'd have a really hard time giving it up."

And I'm pretty sure, with those words, I just fell madly in love with him. (Don't look at the light, Keatyn.) I lean over and kiss him, "I'm sorry I freaked you out. The reason my period wasn't normal, why it was shorter, is because I went on the pill."

His face lights up. "Ohhhhhhhhh. So we won't have to use a condom anymore?"

"Well, I mean doubling up the protection is a good thing, plus I mean, have you been like tested or anything?"

"I don't have anything, Keatie. Do you?"

"No."

He leans over and kisses me deeply.

"We better get to dinner."

We eat a whole bunch of tacos. I'm still amazed when I sit down with a group of boys just how much they can eat.

After dinner, Parker starts telling us about how he broke up with Sara, a freshman girl I don't know very well.

Dallas is like, "Dude, you only dated for like a week."

"Longest week of my life."

And I'm like, "Why's that?"

"Do you know how much work girls are?"

"Uh, I guess not?"

"She wanted me to sit around all night texting her. No offense, but I like just had dinner with her, we did homework together, we made out, but she didn't want to do anything but that, and I'm okay with that, but then I wanna come back to room, kill a few zombies with my boys, she gets all pissed off! Calls me, saying, Why aren't you replying to my texts?" He used a funny bitchy girly voice when he said what she said. It makes us all laugh.

Ace says, "I hate high maintenance chicks."

Bryce agrees, "They're ALL high maintenance."

Riley still laughing says, "If they would just understand it's hard to text when you're saving the world from obliviation, nazi zombies and shit."

All the guys laugh.

"Dude," Parker says, "my kill ratio is better than all of yours." (I love that she gets to go to Taco Tuesday with the guys. That they can hang out with her and not filter things. And sadly, it's what boys do talk about. Sex, cars, video games, sports, girls.) "No way," Dallas says, "mine is the best because I've gotten further in the game. You got totally powned when you played me. Now, Ace, he sucks." (Not sure if powned is an actual word in real life, but my son and his friends used it all the time in reference to video games. I think it basically means you got owned. Not sure why the p is on the front of it. Actually, just looked this up on Urban Dictionary and discovered that only lame people spell it "powned" and that the correct spelling is "pwned" because that makes so much more sense.) And thus ensues a verbal war of who is better at killing fake things with a fake gun with a controller in your hand. I totally do not get the video game draw. Brooklyn used to get high with his friends after surfing, then they would "chill", which meant they sat around in his game room on the floor pillows and played video games. Brooklyn has a sweet game room, low couches, beanbags, pillows and the big draw was four separate xboxes, so they could all get on LIVE and play with each other while sitting side by side.

Even Tommy would play with them occasionally. Tommy said video games reach the primal depths of a man. Their need to kill and provide. Since now they just make money to provide, video games give them with the opportunity to release this natural desire. Of course, then all Brooklyn's friends started talking about their other "natural desires," and I thought my ears would bleed before Tommy told me I should probably go home.

That was the night Brooklyn came with me. To my room, apparently because he had a few desires of his own.

It was a little over a year ago. I thought he was the sweetest boy ever for not ditching me for his friends. For holding my hand as we walked up the beach, telling me I looked beautiful in the moonlight. It was the first night he really kissed me. Made out with me, felt me up, talked me into trying some other things that I'd never done. (This little flashback was cut. Because it didn't happen that way anymore. And quite honestly, I don't think I would like B much if it had.) I whisper to Dawes, "Am I high maintenance?"

"Naw, you're cool. I'm not really listening to them though. All I can think about is doing it without one, ya know? I've never, have you?"

I shake my head no, as Ace says to them, "Although ya know, texting a girl is pretty much considered foreplay these days. Don't you want some!?"

Parker and Bryce both get big eyes, look at each other and then they're like, "not worth the hassle."

Riley says, "Dallas, you've been awful quiet on this subject."

Dawson has been holding my hand under the table. He picks my hand up, puts in on his crotch to show me exactly how much he's been thinking about it. He's sitting there with a boner!

I laugh out loud.

Riley looks at me, says, "You know about this?"

I have no idea really what they're even talking about. Something about girls. I just nod my head yes.

Riley grabs Dallas's phone and puts it in front of me. "Look at this!" Riley scrolls though the current list of the eight girls that he's all currently texting.

While we're looking down at the screen, I say, "Dallas! You're talking to all these girls? And Riley, you're just jealous."

Dallas grins, "Well you know, just keeping my options open." (Love how Dallas and Riley switch. Like Dallas becomes the player, and Riley falls in love.) And Riley says, "Dawes, you never play COD with us anymore." (COD= Call of Duty.) "I'd much rather hang with Keatie than play COD with you douches."

"Yeah, cuz we won't put our hand where hers is. Well, Bryce might. I'm pretty sure he's gay."

I try to move my hand, but Dawson covers it with his and it stays put.

Bryce says, "I used to be gay with Dawes, but he ditched me for Kiki."

Dawson laughs.

Then he says, "Keatyn, you gotta set me up with a hottie, but she HAS to be a low maintenance girl like you."

"I'm not sure being low maintenance is a good thing."

"Sure it is. You're chill."

"I'm not sure it's a good thing," I say again. Thinking back to Brooklyn. I want to be worth the effort. "Maybe girls just want to know they're worth a little effort. Think of the effort you put into beating a COD game, or into memorizing all your football plays. Is it too much to ask for just some of that same attention?"

Ace has been listening to me very closely. I forget how smart he is when I look at him. He totally looks like a dumb jock. "That's a good point, Keatyn."

Then the boys go on and on discussing girls and sex vs. video games.

Dawson whispers in my ear, "Let's get out of here." He throws some money down on the table, grabs my hand as we stand up, and says, "We're gonna go. We have, uh, some errands to run before we go back to school."

I tell everyone, "Bye, see ya."

Riley says, "What kind of errands exactly?"

Dawson flips him off.

It's dark outside now. When we get to Dawson's car, he starts kissing me. My back is leaned up against his door, and he's kissing me, fast, sexy, I know what's on his mind kisses. He runs his hand up my dress and pulls my panties down, down to the hem of my dress. I'm a little shocked by his boldness.

"Take them off," he tells me.

Normally I don't like to be told what to do, or like being given commands, but I do it, no questions asked.

"Right here?"

He goes, "Mhmmm, maybe," as I slide my thong off.

"Dawson! No! There's people around!"

He leans into me, his weight on my chest. I love that feeling "I wanna do it like this. Up against my car."

"Might scratch it," I tease him.

He grabs a piece of my hair, twirls it on his finger and stares at it, like it's the most interesting thing he has ever seen, then says dreamily, "I wouldn't care."

Uh, he wouldn't care if he got a scratch? This is a guy that parks a mile from the restaurant and takes up two parking spots, so he doesn't get a door ding. He wipes the car off with cloth diapers. And the day the school's sprinklers turned on it, I thought he was going to have a coronary. (There may be a man I happen to know who has had the sprinklers turned on their car and, in fact, practically had a coronary about it.) But the way he's got his body pushed up against me, I know he's serious. "You better get us somewhere more private quick then."

We get in the car, and he drives to a park. I was a bad girl, didn't get buckled and was uh, well, um, it's not important really what I was doing to him while he was driving. But I can say he enjoyed it very quickly.

And fifteen minutes later, when we get to the big park area that surrounds a small lake, he's ready to roll again. He pulled off in a treed area and there's no one around. He can't get out of the car fast enough, runs over and shuts my door the second I get out and full on attacks me. My back's up against the passenger side of his car. Sometimes it feels like he has four hands. His hands are in my hair, under my dress, across my chest, pulling my straps off my shoulders so he can harshly kiss down my chest. While he's kissing under my bra, he's got both hands under my dress, cupping my butt, pulling me toward him, then pushing me away, toward him, then away.

It feels a little like a warm up. Like jogging around the track before you sprint the next lap.

Then he lifts me up. My weight is half against the car, half sitting in his hands. "Wrap your legs around my waist," he whispers. As soon as I do, he's inside me, pushing me with reckless abandon against the car. My arms are around his neck, hanging onto him, and I'm kissing him with some reckless abandon of my own. (Also, this is a very hot scene. I like Dawson very much here.) Back in front of my dorm. Dawson did nothing on the way home but talk about how amazing the sex was. He's so cute. And it just does something to me, to know that it's ME that's making him feel that way, that good. It makes me feel both powerful and helpless at the same time. Powerful that I can make him want me so much, and helpless because I think I need him just as badly.

"I wish you could come sleep with me," he tells me. "I love how you snuggle up with me."

"Come sleep with me."

"What do you mean?"

"Like sneak out of your room, sneak in my window and sleep, actually sleep," I grin, "tonight. We can set my alarm for like four or something, and you can sneak back home. Katie sleeps hard. If you're quiet, I don't think she'd even know."

"Sounds like a plan. I love you, Keatie."

I say, "I love you too." Because I feel so dreamy and happy.

At 1:30 he crawls through my window. "Okay, so you set the alarm for 4:30, right?"

"Right."

"What do you have on?" He says, while running his hand down my body in the dark. Then he holds his phone up and shines it at me, so he can see.

What I'm wearing is sleep shorts and a tank top. What I say is, "Armor." (Omg, best come back ever.) He laughs. "Don't worry. You wore me out tonight." He kisses down the side of my neck, "Well sorta, I mean I could probably do it again if you want. So this weekend, like I know your parents know we have, so does that mean I get to sleep with you all weekend?"

"Uh, I'm sure they'll give you your own room."

"Do I have to stay in it?"

"I think you have to pretend to stay in it. Like just sort of out of respect."

"I can do that. I'm really excited. To go away with you, meet them, snuggle all night with you, okay, so maybe we'll do more than snuggle."

"Dawson?"

"Yeah."

"Go to sleep," I laugh. He pulls his arm around me tight, and I melt into his chest.

I don't think I've ever felt so content.

Wednesday, Sept 21st I dozed off for about an hour after Dawson left. Dreamed about having his baby. But then I was in some sort of teenage TV sitcom, and I found out that it wasn't Dawson's baby, it was Brooklyn's. But neither one of them wanted to marry me, so Aiden suggested I marry him and he raises the baby with me.

It was a very emotional dream.

The girls and I seriously need to stop watching The Secret Life of the American Teen late at night.

Regardless of the dream trauma, my real life is carefree and happy. Dawson makes me happy, makes me feel good, loves me. Life is good.

Well, except that I have to go to class.

But I get out of class to make some phone calls.

Call Marcus, talk to him about party planners. He recommends three for me to call, then he says, "Just give me the date, and I'll make the calls. You should be in class."

"What about a DJ? Aren't you friends with that guy that records all those remixes, the one that did Tommy's birthday party on that yacht?"

"Yes, I am. I'll call him too. This is a bit short notice for him, he's usually pretty booked, but I can maybe call in a favor he owes me."

"That'd be awesome. Hey, you get to see me in a couple days."