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supplies, Dawson explains, “She has to numb your knee to do the stitches.”
    Jake agrees. “That’s why I gave you the vodka. So it won't hurt as bad.”
     
    He lied.
    Even with the vodka, it hurts a lot.
    She sticks my kneecap about a thousand times, each time sending burning medicine into my already hurting knee.
    Then I watch in horror as she shoves a needle threaded with blue thread into my skin.
    I bury my head in Dawson’s shoulder. I have one of his hands in a death grip and Jake is squeezing my other hand every time she pushes the needle in again.
    Eventually, the nurse says, “That should do it. Five stitches.” She covers it with a big gauzy bandage and rattles off a bunch of instructions I don’t quite catch.
    I think the vodka is finally starting to kick in.
    Dawson carries me back to his dorm and lays me on his bed.
    Jake pats me on the arm. “You were a trooper, Monroe. And she gave you pain pills. Score.”
    “Thanks for taking care of me,” I tell him as he walks through the bathroom door to his room.
    “Five stitches,” Dawson says. “That is pretty impressive.”
    He kisses around my knee, up my thigh, and to my waiting mouth. He gives me a yummy kiss, then says, “You were brave.”
    I roll my eyes at him.
    He laughs. “I should have asked for a shot to numb my hand. You were squeezing so hard I think you killed it.” He holds his hand up, making it look limp and dead.
    “That’s cuz Jake was squeezing my other hand every time she did a stitch.”
    “He was trying to distract you.”
    He leans up on one arm and grins at me. “So, everyone seemed to like the way I asked you to Homecoming.”
    “It was amazing, hilarious. Awesome. I loved it. I'm so excited to go with you. I really didn’t think you were going to ask me. I was so surprised.”
    He scrunches up his nose. “You think I’d let anyone else take you wearing that dress? No fucking way.”
    “You like my dress?”
    “I love your dress. Love your loft. Loved the whole weekend.” He touches my face gently and his brown eyes look at me with such sweetness. These eyes look so different from the ones I saw that night at the Cave. There’s no more hurt in them.
    I push my lips hard against his.
    And kiss him.
    “Dawson, remember the night at the Cave? How you told me your goal was to take Whitney to Homecoming.”
    “A lot’s changed since then.”
    “I know, but we had a great weekend, and you helped me pick out my dress, but you never said anything about us going together.”
    “That’s because on the long drive back to get you, we decided I should ask you in a big public way. We had it all planned out. I wanted you to be surprised.”
    “When I was sitting there waiting for you, Whitney told me that you bonded in the limo. How you had gone to the last three Homecomings together, how you wouldn't want pictures with me, and how you'll be king and queen. That's part of why I wouldn't take the key. I didn't believe you yet.”
    He smiles. “Does that mean you believe me now?”
    “I’m starting to.”

 
     
     
     
    Tuesday, September 27th
    He can't be a god.
    7am
     
    I didn’t take a pain pill last night before I went to bed because I had that vodka, so I woke up at three this morning with a throbbing knee. I tried for a couple hours to go back to sleep and finally gave up.
    I hobbled into the bathroom, got some water, and took a pill around five. I got ready, thinking it would help me forget that it hurts. It didn't really work then. But now, as I walk into the Social Committee meeting, I’m feeling completely relaxed and pain-free.
    I sit down, pull my over-the-knee sock down, and inspect the gauze, making sure it's still in place.
    Aiden sits down next to me. “Five stitches, huh?”
    “Yeah,” I slur a little.
    “Why did you run out of my room and pretend you weren’t hurt, when you obviously were?”
    “I felt sick. I didn’t really know about the cut until I saw it was bleeding.”
    Peyton and Brad