Scar Patterson
Francesca's face screwed into an expression of pure disgust as she placed a perfectly manicured hand on her protruding hip and glared holes into my head with her intense stare. “So, a kissing booth?”
The sun was beaming down on us, intensely. It was supposed to be fall, but much like every fall before this one, it just seemed like an extended version of summer that had somehow gotten worse. I had to wipe away the sweat forming on my brow, but based on the way my girlfriend’s olive skin was glowing in the sunlight and her eerily calm composure, I would say she wasn’t the least bit bothered by the weather.
I bit back an annoyed sigh. “Yes. Did you think I was lying when I said I'd be doing this?”
Her deep brown eyes narrowed into thin slits as she poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “Don't play cute.” Her gaze lingered over the booth that stood before us before she let out a sigh. “And actually, I didn't think you were lying—just didn't think you'd have the balls to do it.”
I gave her a lighthearted shrug in response and tugged out a tube of mint chapstick from my back pocket, swiping it over my lips. Francesca responded with a scoff and a hair flip, which was her signature reply to anything she disapproved of. “You and I both know I have the balls,” I responded with a mocking grin, “two big ones, in fact.”
“Two small ones,” she muttered under her breath, but it was still loud enough for me to hear it and send a glare her way in which she responded by pulling her lips into a wide grin. “Love you babe, lots!”
Francesca was much different than she was when we first met in freshman year, two years ago. Back then, everyone knew her as the ridiculously smart girl from Bulgaria. Nowadays, she was a completely different person–one that dressed to impress and made all the boys, and girls, swoon. But even with her newfound popularity, Francesca still managed to make me smile ear to ear whenever she was near, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
“So, tell me how this works.” Francesca’s dark eyes widened in absolute terror as she glanced at the neighboring booths.
As I set a medium-sized tin box on the booth that my teammates and I had worked so hard on, I flashed my girlfriend a mocking smile. “It’s pretty simple. A line of girls will form here—” I gestured toward the queue sectioned off by colorful neon tape, “—and they’ll come up here, pay, and get kissed by me or some other member of the team. Strictly lips and no tongue.”
She raised an inquiring brow. “No tongue?”
“Yeah, because I don’t want diseases or nothing.”
“And what happens when a really fugly girl with chapped lips comes up?”
To that, I shrugged. “Trey will kiss her.”
We stared at each other in silence for a long moment before we both broke into a fit of laughter—the kind that makes you hold onto your stomach in fear that it’ll burst. When our laughter died down, Francesca flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder and exhaled heavily. “Well, it looks like I don’t have much to worry about. Seems harmless.”
My eyes scanned the carnival grounds, searching for any aimlessly wandering teenage girls who might be interested in getting a kiss from Summer Hill’s one and only sexy linebacker. When I was finished scoping out my potential candidates, I returned my attention to Francesca. “Lemme guess,” I said, raising an index finger in the air, “you just wanted to check out the competition.”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Aww, that’s sweet,” I teased her in which she responded by playfully slapping me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You know that you’re the most beautiful girl to ever exist in my eyes.”
She pulled her rosy lips into a grin. “Thanks, baby.”
“Speaking of which…” I turned my back to her so that I could focus on the booth’s set-up, but more because I didn’t want her to see my face when I asked her, “…where were you last night? You weren’t answering my phone calls.”
The question hung forever in the air before she answered with, “I was busy, Scar.” I couldn’t stop myself from frowning, knowing exactly what she meant. When she caught my sudden change in mood, she sighed. “Scar, we made a deal that we wouldn’t tell each other who we were sleeping with. Please don’t do that shoulder thing.”
Still turned away from her, I asked, “What shoulder thing?”
“That thing you do when you’re upset. Your shoulders fall to the floor.”
I glanced over my shoulder to look at her. “Pretty sure they’re still on my shoulders.”
She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to the side ever so slightly, but instead of pursuing the conversation any further, she sighed. “Right, well, you have a kissing booth to run. I'll see you later.” She stood up on her toes and planted a kiss on my cheek before sauntering her way through the giant sea of people. I shook my head in disbelief as I watched her walk away, but I still became entranced by the way her hips always seemed to sway to an unknown beat.
I wasn’t sure how long I was staring for until a pair of strong hands landed on my shoulders, breaking me out of my stupor, and I whipped around quickly to face my best friend. He was dressed in his practice uniform with a white t-shirt draped over his shoulder, and a baseball hat capped tightly on his head, shielding his skin from the heat. “Hey, man,” he greeted with an eager smile.
I chuckled softly to myself as I nudged him in the rib cage. “Jesus, dude. You scared the hell outta me.”
He rolled his eyes and propped himself up against the booth, gazing back at me with his intense dark eyes. “When are we gonna get this thing started?” he asked out of genuine curiosity.
“Before we get anything started, I think you should know that we’re totally doing some illegal stuff here,” I admitted as I pulled a half-smile.
His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Turns out, the carnival would only let me host a booth if I donated the money to a charity of my choice,” I began to explain even though I got the feeling that Trey already knew where I was going with this. “I had to do a bunch of paperwork and shit, but the point is … we're donating the money to a football charity called ‘Work Hard, Play Hard’, sponsored by Russel Wilson.”
He looked at me incredulously. “A football charity?”
“A charity dedicated to making sure that high school football teams, i.e us, can be the best football teams that they can be. Made it up on the spot, and the lady didn’t even try to confirm it. She was an old geezer anyway, so I doubt she’ll be looking into that anytime soon.”
Trey slapped a hand over his forehead. “Idiot,” he muttered under his breath.
I shrugged it off just as I began to circle around the booth, tugging gently on the white sheet covering our booth. “And now—” I lowered my voice in an attempt to sound like a stereotypical show host, “—let the kissing begin!” Ripping off the sheet from the booth and letting it fall to the ground, I gazed up at the words painted in bright red, 'Kisses for Charity - $2.00'.
“Wow.” I gawked at the sign. “You guys did a really good job with this!”
Trey shrugged carelessly. “Well, you know, under my guidance, the team and I were able to create a masterpiece. Call me Picasso, if you must.”
Holding in a laugh, I popped open the money collection box. “Picasso didn't play football.”
Trey leaned over my shoulder and whispered softly, “That's what they want you to think.”
I raised my hands in mock surrender. “Whatever you say, Prick-ass-o.”
He folded his arms against his chest and surveyed the crowd. “I'm gonna get some cotton candy. Will you be okay here by yourself?"
I waved him off. “It's just kissing, Trey, and FYI, I happen to be very good at that.”
His brow shot up in surprise as his lips twitched into a mocking grin and his eyes danced with amusement. “Good luck with that. Some of the other guys will be catching up later if you wanna rotate out,” he hollered as he backed away from me and eventually disappeared into the crowd.
* * *
It had been an hour and a half since I opened up the booth for business, and I kissed thirty eight teenage girls, four grannies, and one little girl; some were even generous enough to donate five and ten dollar bills. I knew after an entire week of doing this, the team and I would have more than enough money to pay for our trip, and I could even use some of the leftover money to buy a new car. This plan couldn't have been any more perfect.
As each minute ticked by, girls of all sizes, shapes, and colors gathered into a line in front of the booth, quietly snickering to each other and squealing in excitement. The next girl in line was a pretty blonde, standing next to who I assumed was her brother. I quickly recognized her as a member of the varsity cheerleading squad.
My lips peeled into a smile as I motioned her over. “Next up.”
But she didn't step forward. It was the boy attached to her side that stepped up to the booth, wearing a creepy grin. I watched him for a moment, taking in the sight of his long, tousled, blond hair that was pulled behind his ears and his pale blue eyes that held no emotion whatsoever. He wore a plain t-shirt with a plunging neckline, exposing his chest and the outline of his breastbone. His stare was blank as he gazed back at me and fished out two crumpled dollar bills from his pocket.
I had to crack a smile. “You've got to be kidding me.” His blank expression didn't even falter. “I'm not kissing you,” I spat as I leaned against my hands.
The boy's light colored brows caved in. He glanced up at the sign, and then flicked his attention back to me. “Isn't that the point?”
I shook my head. “I'm not gay, dude.”
He broke into a full-on smile. “Neither am I.”
I looked past him at the girls waiting in line. Quite a few of them had retrieved their cell phones from their purses to record the altercation. Sighing, I rolled my eyes and asked, “then why are you here?”
His smile morphed into a creepy grin as he thumbed the dollar bills between his fingers. “I want to donate money to a good cause,” he said as though it was the obvious answer. “What is your cause, again? Work Hard, Play Hard?”
Gesturing towards the money box and giving him a stern look, I stood my ground. “You can donate if you’re itching to be a good Samaritan, but we are not locking lips.”
His ice blue eyes burned into mine as his smile grew more menacing, allowing a wave of silence to settle between us. “If I'm going to donate, I want something in return. Besides, I doubt that you would want the organizers to know that this isn't actually for charity, right? That wouldn't be good for your football reputation, you know, being the football jock that you are.” He raised a questioning brow to challenge me, but I stood my ground.
“This is for charity—” I pointed toward the sign, “—hence the ‘Kisses for Charity’ part.”
His grin became more unsettling by the minute. “Ah, of course.”
“Look, you’re either going to give me the money and skedaddle, or you’re going to be on your merry way. I don’t have time for this.”
He raked a hand through his blond hair and let out a dramatic sigh. “I’ll have you know that my mother is one of the carnival organizers, and I can have her look into this fake little charity of yours. Once she finds out what you've done, she’ll shut down this booth, take the money, and revoke that beloved football scholarship of yours.”
Who the hell was this guy and why was he so persistent? “You wouldn’t.”
He raised a teasing brow and waved the dollar bills in my face. “I’d make a decision quickly if I were you.”
I knew nothing about the boy standing in front of me, other than he was a conniving son of a bitch. The one thing I knew for sure was that getting the change to go to Myrtle Beach wasn’t going to be very beneficial to me or the team if I was kicked off the team for fraud. In the grand scheme of things, kissing a guy didn’t seem all that detrimental.
I heaved a sigh. “Fine, whatever. Lips, no tongue.”
He flashed me another creepy smile as he handed me his money. “Good choice, Patterson.”
I swallowed harshly as I placed the money into the collection box. Biting back a groan, I forced my eyes shut and started to lean in. All I had to do was pretend he was a girl, and then I would be able to keep my scholarship and pretend this never happened. Before I could even prepare myself, however, I felt a pair of lips brush tentatively against mine. My body went stiff at that very instant, feeling completely repulsed by the kiss. I had started to pull away after three short seconds when a hand grabbed the back of my neck, keeping me in place. The stranger forced his tongue into my mouth and as much as I wanted to get the hell away from him, he managed to gain a steady hold on me, making it clear that the kiss would only end on his accord.
So I let him massage my tongue with his and tried to think of everything else but the fact that I was kissing a guy.
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