17 First Kisses (21 page)

“Claire?” he asks like he's hoping he's imagining all this. “What are you doing here?”

I look at him holding his hands over his junk and her wiping her red face.

“I'm leaving.”

I turn and try to exit with some shred of dignity. This plan fails spectacularly when my heel gets caught on an orange extension cord in the garage, and I fall with a splat against the window of the red Civic. Seeing my smudged lipstick on the glass gives me an idea. I scrawl the word
SLUT
in Coral Crush before continuing down the driveway.

“Claire, wait.”

He's finally managed to zip his pants and chase after me. I ignore him and keep dialing.
Pick up. Please, pick up.

“Hello?”

“Megan, can you come get me? I'll explain when you're here.”

I hang up the phone as soon as she says “sure” and stand at
the end of the driveway with my arms crossed.

“Baby, can't we talk about this?” Tanner tries to touch my shoulder, but I shake him off.

“There's nothing to talk about.” I glare at him though my tears. “You cheated on me. You've probably been cheating on me this whole time.” I can tell by his guilty expression I've guessed correctly. “Ugh. I can't believe I almost lost my virginity to you tonight.”

All the color drains from Tanner's face. Few things can terrify a teenage boy more completely than the realization that he has missed an opportunity at sex.

“Claire, w-wait. I know we can work this out.” He's desperate as Megan's car whips around the cul-de-sac to pick me up.

“You blew it.” I slam the door in his face, then roll down the window because I think of something else. “And your song lyrics suck!”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

T
he whole world is making out. All night I've been watching couples go at it. Megan and Luke. Britney and Buck. Even Sam has Amanda Bell.

Amberly and I hole up in the kitchen and sip our wine coolers in silence. Our feet dangle from the granite countertops where we're sitting. Amberly slouches against a cabinet. She blows listlessly at a stray wisp of honey-colored hair that has broken free from the loose bun piled on top of her head. She looks just how I feel. Britney planned this party so we could celebrate the end of the semester while her parents are away at their lake house. But I don't feel much like celebrating.

“So, not having someone to kiss right now pretty much sucks,” Amberly says.

“Yeah. You know I haven't kissed anyone since tenth grade? It's been almost
two years
.”

“Aw. You win. We need to get you some action tonight.”

A hand slithers around my waist.

“Ladies. Ladies. Ladies.” It's Jimmy, twining his creepy arms around both of us. “I hear you're in need of my services.”

I peel away his fingers. “I don't think I'll ever be in need of your services.”

“Me neither.” Amberly shrugs off his other arm. “I'm not nearly that desperate. Or that drunk.”

“But when you are, I'll be there.” He stands there with his patchy goatee and his red-rimmed eyes, looking us up and down. It makes me feel like there are worms crawling all over me.

“Creepasaurus Rex,” Amberly mutters under her breath. “Let's go,” she says in a louder voice. “I need the bathroom.”

We check our hair and makeup, intentionally taking as long as humanly possible. But when we come out, Jimmy's still there. Waiting.

“Let's split up and lose him,” I whisper to Amberly.

“Meet in B's room in twenty minutes?”

I nod. We take off in opposite directions. It seems like she's heading outside to the hot tub, so I weave through the house toward the staircase leading to the second floor. Jimmy sticks to me like a flesh-eating bacteria. Crap. I have got to ditch Count Creepula. I leap up the stairs two at a time, duck inside the nearest door, and close it fast. Footsteps thud down the hall, and I watch the doorknob like it's a bomb.

“Hi,” says a voice behind me. I nearly jump out of my skin.

Luke sits on the lumpy couch in Britney's dad's office with his elbows propped on the kneecaps of his ultra-dark-wash blue jeans.

“Hi,” I say breathlessly.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Escaping. From Jimmy.”

“I'm hiding out too,” Luke says.

“Why are
you
hiding?”

As my sympathetic nervous system recovers from Luke scaring the bejesus out of me, I notice his mouth is pulled down so far at the corners his dimples have all but disappeared.

“I'm having a crappy day. I wanted to talk about it, but Megan is drunk and just wants to hook up. I really need a friend who can listen right now.”

Poor guy. I remember the talks we used to have before he started dating Megan. I sink into the cushion next to him, releasing a puff of cigar-scented air. “I can be that friend.”

Luke's eyes dart around the room like he's searching for a way out. Like he'd do anything to not think about what he has to tell me. But also like he'll explode if he doesn't.

“You can't tell anyone,” he finally says.

“I promise I won't.” My wide eyes open even wider, something that always happens whenever I say the words
I promise.

“You know how my parents get in those horrible fights?”

I nod.

“Sometimes . . . he hits her.”

Luke's face tenses as he watches for my reaction. I've never
had a friend with an abusive parent before. For all the problems they have, my parents almost never get angry. Everything I know about domestic violence I learned from watching Lifetime movies when I stayed home sick from school, so I don't know what the proper reaction is.

“I'm so sorry,” I say as a reflex. “Is that what happened tonight?”

“Yeah. They were fighting because a furnace repairman came over today. Everything seemed fine, but as soon as the guy left, my dad accused her of flirting with him. It got bad. She threw a glass against the wall. And then she called him stupid.” Luke winces. “So he backhanded her.”

His hand is just a few inches away. Without thinking, I put my hand on top of it. You can't listen to something like that and do nothing. The hand-holding is completely platonic. Mostly.

“I don't know what to do. I have the same temper. I don't want to be a monster like him.”

“You aren't. You could never be like that,” I tell him—because it's true and because his eyes are begging me for some kind of confirmation that he is not a monster.

We're so wrapped up in each other we don't even hear the door open.

“What the hell is this?”

Luke and I jump back from each other, startled. It is an act that makes us look guilty as sin. If I were Megan, I'd be pissed too.

“I knew it. You've been after him this whole time.”

“We weren't doing anything. We were just talking,” I say.

Megan narrows her eyes. “You can leave now. I need to talk to my boyfriend.”

I slink out to the hallway, but I can't help lingering on the stairs. Their voices echo from the office.

“Nothing happened. I just needed someone to talk to.”

“Oh. And you can't talk to me? I'm only your girlfriend.”

“I tried to talk to you before, but you wouldn't listen. You were more interested in getting my pants off.”

“Well, I'm listening now.”

“No, you're not. You're being a bitch.”

There's a pause. I lean closer to the door. I shouldn't be listening, but I can't move. I have to hear this.

“I'm sorry, okay? You can talk to me about whatever it is. I can be a good listener too.”

He sighs. “It's different with her. She gets me. Claire and I don't have perfect cookie-cutter families like yours. You don't know what it's like for people like us.”

The thought of Luke and me as an
us
sends Megan over the edge. “I am so sick of hearing about how Claire is so smart and so funny and so freaking perfect. If you don't want me for anything else but the way I look, we're done.”

“Well, good, because I'm tired of your bullshit anyway.” I hear something slam, maybe Luke's hand against the desk, and take it as my cue to leave.

As I slip downstairs I feel shocked and sad for my best friend like I'm supposed to, but buried underneath that, I feel the tiniest flicker of hope.

Kisses #10, #11, #12, and #13 xoxo

Megan grabs me by the shoulders.

“Are you sure you're ready to do this?”

Our four-girl powwow occupies one of three bathrooms in Screaming Lemurs's lead singer's parents' house. Outside, a party rages, and the knocking and doorknob jangling grow more insistent.

“Yes.” Well, maybe. Every time I think of Tanner hooking up with that chick on his couch, I think our plan is awesome. Every time I imagine myself enacting the plan, I feel a little queasy and my face turns red.

Amberly balances on the side of the tub so she can adjust the straps on her stripper heels.

“You know people are going to talk, right? You have to be prepared for that.”

She would know. No girl in school has a reputation worse than hers. But it's just because of the way she dresses. And arches her back. And eats certain foods. She can't walk out of a room with a boy without people assuming they hooked up.

“I can handle it. Gossip never bothers me. Plus, I'm sure it'll all blow over in a week or two.”

“And he deserves it,” says Megan. “So everyone will totally be on your side.”

Britney looks up from her lip gloss. “Seriously. Who cheats
right before a date anyway? Like, could he not wait the two hours for you to—” Megan's elbow catches her in the ribs. “Ow, what?”

Megan rolls her eyes. “Nothing. Are you ready? Because Mission: Humiliate Tanner Walsh starts now.”

We put our hands in a pile and say “break” before we open the door, because we're cheesy like that. We have hatched a diabolical plan of epic proportions: I will make out with all four of Tanner's best friends and bandmates. Not the most creative plan, but it's every girl's revenge fantasy, and crabs was already taken.

Megan leaves the bathroom first so she can distract Tanner under the pretense of talking about my feelings. The winding line of people doing the I-have-to-pee dance glares until they see who it is. Amberly leaves next. Her job is to keep tabs on the whereabouts of the four guys I need to kiss. And Britney is making sure that if that junior girl comes within ten feet of this party, she'll leave in mascara-stained tears.

I take a lap around the party. A few guys check out various parts of my body as I pass. I can't blame them—my sexiness factor is dialed up to one notch below prostitute. Megan picked my outfit (a micro micro mini and a tank top that doesn't go past my belly button), and Amberly did my makeup (my eyelids weigh about two pounds each). I subjected myself to their skankover because any time you embark on a revenge mission against your ex, you have to look eat-your-heart-out sexy, but I can't help tugging at the bottom of my tank top and the hem of
my skirt. This so isn't me.

I don't see Tanner, which means Megan is doing her job, so I search for Lead Singer. I find him in the living room, chest puffed out, one arm slung across the mantel, flirting with no less than four adoring fangirls.

“Come with me to get a beer,” I say, grabbing his arm and causing a flurry of vicious scowls.
Oh, chill. I'll only take him for a second and then you can go back to discussing what combination of product makes his hair so dreamy.

I drag him into a bedroom and shut the door behind us.

His eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. “The keg's in the kitchen.”

Step 1: Get him alone
. Done. I can do this. I can totally do this.

“I know.” I take a step toward him, so we're just inches apart and I can smell his metro cologne. “I broke up with Tanner.”

“I heard. You think you guys'll get back together?”

“Nope. But that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about.”

I inch a little closer, thankful he can't see my racing heartbeat. His eyes widen. “What
did
you want to talk to me about?”

“I think you're hot. And even when I was dating Tanner, I always wondered what it would be like to make out with you.”

I hold my breath. Will he buy it? Everything hinges on him believing me.

Lead Singer is the most vain guy in the universe, and he thinks every girl is secretly in love with him, regardless of their relationship status, so of course he swallows my lie hook, line,
and sinker. A cocky smile settles over his face, and he pulls me toward him by the small of my back and kisses me like the world is ending. I start to enjoy it—even though I'm on a revenge mission, even though I have no feelings for him whatsoever—because the boy is just so darn good at kissing.

When we pull away, my smug smile matches his.
Step 2: Kiss him
. Done. I did it! And it worked. And it was even kind of fun.

“So, what'd you think?” he asks with a look that says he already knows the answer.

“That was fun. We better get back to the party.”

“Okay. Come find me if you start wondering about anything else.”

Tool
, I think, even though I'm still practically panting from the kiss. I step out of the bedroom with shaky knees and tingling lips. Time to find my next target.

Rhythm Guitar lounges in a recliner chair sipping beer and watching ESPN Classic. Why guys like to watch ten-year-old football games is beyond me. I walk right over and sit in his lap like it's the most normal thing in the world.

“Hey. Tanner and I just broke up.”