Authors: Brittany Geragotelis
Kiss & Sell
Copyright © 2013 by Brittany Geragotelis
ISBN: 1493633805
ISBN 13: 9781493633807
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976 the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at
[email protected]
. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
First Edition: November 2013
The characters and events portrayed in this book are ficticious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. To the extent that any real names of individuals, locations, or organizations are included in the book, they are used fictitiously and not intended to be taken otherwise.
To my husband, Matt, my favorite kissing partner.
THE FIRST DAY
of my freshman year of high school started out the same as every other year.
New clothes. Check.
Different faces. Yep.
And once again—
completely kiss-free
.
“I’m serious, Arielle, it took me practically an hour this morning just to pick out the perfect outfit,” said McCartney. “I mean, what you wear on your first day pretty much sets the standard for the rest of the year, you know?”
My friends, McCartney Janning, Phineas Haywood and I walked toward the front doors of Ronald Henry High School trying hard not to act like it was our first time doing so. As McCartney went on about her new threads, I glanced down at my own outfit. It’d taken me all of five minutes to decide on a pair of dark denim jeans, and a black tank top underneath a cropped-top featuring the words “Who is A?” on it. Not exactly double-take-worthy, but it would guarantee that I’d blend in with the crowd. And blending in meant not being singled out as a lame, newbie freshman.
Along with the non-flashy outfit, I’d smoothed my long, red hair back into a low ponytail and dusted my eyelids with a soft green shadow that perfectly complimented my eyes. And even though I was wearing two-inch heels, I still barely hit 5’3”. Taking some clear lipgloss out of my pocket, I reapplied the shiny stuff to my lips just like
Teen Vogue
had suggested in the issue I’d read the night before.
“So, after about twenty different outfits, I ended up going with the first one I tried on,” McCartney finished, taking her first breath since she’d began talking.
“And
that’s
what you decided on?” Phin asked, snorting loudly. He examined McCartney’s mini skirt, white top, black tie and bright pink satin jacket with mock horror.
“Hey, now. Don’t knock the outfit,” McCartney said, stopping briefly to glare at Phin. “Don’t even get me started on
your
fashion choices.”
“What’s wrong with my outfit?” Phin asked, gesturing to his choice of skinny jeans and a plain black tee.
I knew they were mostly joking with each other, but being that I had no desire to start the year off with an argument, I decided it was time to break it up.
“Okay, okay. Back to your corners,” I said, laughing at them. “You both look great. Like you
belong
here.”
“Yeah we do!” Phin said, putting his hand up for a high five. When neither of us reciprocated, he let his arm fall to his side weakly.
I shook my head and smiled.
Boys could be so incredibly clueless sometimes.
Once we reached the front door, the three of us stopped in our tracks, ignoring the fact that others would have to swerve around us to get by. One by one we reluctantly looked up at the words chiseled onto the building above the doorframe. “Education prepares you for real life.”
What’s more real than high school? Seriously.
“We ready to do this?” I asked.
Phin and McCartney didn’t respond, but both took a step through the doors and into the hallway. With a silent prayer, I joined them and we began to move as a group past the lockers that lined the walls, and further into school.
As we walked, I tried to survey the scene without appearing too much like a nerdy tourist. But as I glanced around, my mouth dropped open slightly from what I saw.
Everywhere I looked, there were couples. Some were holding hands, others were leaning up against each other, seemingly attached at the hip. But more than that, there was
kissing
. A couple at my right was practically all over each other. As they made out, the girl tangled her fingers up in the guy’s hair and he stuck his hands deep into her back pockets.
Must be some pretty tasty lipgloss.
I made a face and then turned back to McCartney and Phin.
“Are you guys seeing what I’m seeing?” I asked hissed at them.
Phin pulled his messenger bag off his shoulder as he read off the numbers on the lockers for his own. When he found it, he punched in the code to the electronic lock and placed his stuff inside.
“What? New school, same boring classes?” he asked, staring into the metal container like it was a Rubik’s Cube.
“Yes, but no,” I answered. “Look around! Everyone’s making out. I feel like I’m in the basement of some suck-fest!”
“And how would you know?” McCartney asked, raising her eyebrows at my comment.
“Ha, ha,” I said.
“She’s got a point, Arielle,” Phin said, slamming his locker door shut and leaning against it. He surveyed the couples around us. “I hate to say it, but maybe the reason all of this is bothering you is simply because
you’ve never kissed anyone before
.”
“Uh—
nooo
!”
Okay, so I was a little quick to deny this fact, but it didn’t mean Phin was right. Right?
“I just think that all this PDA is a little
gross
,” I continued. “I mean, seriously! Get a room, people.” I turned on my heels, only to run right into another couple who’d been swapping spit behind me.
I looked back at my friends and pointed at the couple. “See what I mean?”
I stalked off, taking my time so that Phin and McCartney could catch up with me.
“You know, Arielle,” McCartney said seriously. “You may be the only person left in our class to be a lip virgin.”
“That’s not true,” I said dismissively.
Right?
I looked around. “What about Arnold Becker?”
We all examined Arnold thoughtfully. He was currently standing at his locker, talking to himself and pressing his hair down into place with his own spit. No way this guy was getting
anyone
to kiss him.
“Arnold’s been hooking up with this girl at chess camp for the past few summers,” Phin said, still staring at the guy.
“How do you even
know
that?” McCartney asked.
Phin just shrugged.
Finding out that Arnold had somehow managed to snag smooches from some chess chick, and I was still—as McCartney so bluntly put it—a “Lip virgin,” made me want to throw up. My eyes widened as realization hit. “I’m the last one in our class to kiss someone,” I said slowly as I let the words escape my lips.
“Please don’t freak out,” McCartney said, looking at me concerned. “Phin and I will come up with a plan.”
“We will?” Phin asked.
“We
Will
,” McCartney answered and then added, “Arielle, girlfriend, this is going to be
your
year. The year you get your first kiss.”
“Better start puckering,” Phin said with a smile.
“Oh, goody,” I said under my breath as I walked into my first class.
“I can’t believe we already have homework!” I whined as we stumbled through my front door after school.
McCartney and I collapsed onto the oversized living room couch. We lay across the cushions, our heads meeting side-by-side in the middle and allowing our legs to drape over the sides. Phin fell back into the corner of the room and onto a big pile of pillows.
“I know! I’ve got math, science and a three-page paper on what I did this summer,” McCartney complained. “And somehow I don’t think that telling Mr. Simmons about my summer fling is going to fly.”
“Speaking of work and flings,” Phin said, resting his arms comfortably behind his head. “We still need to come up with a plan for project GAAK.”
“Gaak?” I asked, confused.
“You know, G-A-A-K,” Phin said. I continued to stare at him blankly, until he rolled his eyes. “Project Get Arielle a Kiss. Hello?!”
“Good call,” McCartney said, nodding.
I sat up and looked from McCartney to Phin. “I didn’t think you guys were actually serious about that.”
“Are you kidding?” McCartney asked. “Girl, it’s about time someone ventured to where no other man has been before—your lips.”
“There just hasn’t been a good opportunity yet,” I said, lying back down on the couch. “Or anyone worth kissing.”
“That’s
so
not true!” McCartney said. “You’ve had crushes on plenty of guys at school and you were asked out, like, ten times last year.”
Darn McCartney and her freakishly good memory.
“Yeah, but not by anyone I actually
Wanted
to hang out with,” I answered. “It’s bad enough I get so nervous around guys that I want to hurl, but why go through that for someone I don’t even like?”
