Jamie Myers
Kissing Scar Patterson, the sexy football jock with the hot temper, had to be one of the, if not the, biggest accomplishments of my seventeen years of life. That’s definitely going on my college resume.
There was something oddly charming about Scar. He was attractive–very straight out of a young adult novel, very before his time, very stoic in a way that made you want to know more about him–but I didn’t know much about him. I knew that he was among one of the beloved football players at Summer Hill High School, because of course, and I knew that he was dating a girl who had was just as admired. What I didn’t know was why a handsome boy with eyes that resembled the ocean and a future set in football had the need to be apart of a scam such as this.
I also didn’t know why my sister thought it would be funny to coerce the football star into kissing me. Tongue or it doesn’t count, she had said.
I made a mental note to figure out the answers to both of these questions.
When the kiss was over, Scar pulled away almost instantly and stared back at me with bewildered eyes. Everything written on his face had told me that he was completely and utterly disgusted. His gaze seemed to look past me at the endless line of girls who were most likely recording the entire altercation, and he shook his head in despair. “You got what you want, now, leave me alone,” he ordered.
I couldn’t fight the grin that was making its way onto my face. It was obvious I created a reaction from Scar; granted, it wasn't necessarily a good reaction, but it was a reaction nonetheless. “Thanks so much, Patterson. I’ve always wanted to kiss a jock. Thanks for making my dreams come true.”
His faced paled, but he did nothing else but stare at me. I could tell that he was probably having a mental crisis, so in an effort to ease his mind a little, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a folded twenty dollar bill. “For your troubles,” I said with a smile as I handed him the money. He huffed, but didn’t hesitate to take the cash from my hands.
I tipped my head to show my gratitude even though he continued to look at me like he was seconds away from killing me, and turned on my heel to walk away, hooking my arm through my sister’s in the process. Jillian let out a light-hearted laugh as the cool autumn breeze brushed her blonde bangs against her forehead while I dragged her to the nearest food truck.
“You've got nerve, Jamie,” she commented, “I'll give you that.”
I shot her a quick smile as I combed my fingers through my blond locks. Our hair was one of the traits that gave away the fact that we were related. We both styled our hair in very unkempt ways, and the pale blond color paired well with our golden highlights.
I overlooked the menu posted on the exterior of the food truck and licked my lips at the savory sight of a foot long hot dog. “Nerve takes you a long way, little sister.”
Jillian shook her head as she shifted her weight to one leg and tapped her foot impatiently against the ground. “What did you tell him anyway? He gave in faster than I thought he would.”
Once I politely asked the food truck guy for a hot dog, I glanced over to my sister. “Which means you owe me ten bucks,” I reminded her, “and I didn’t tell him much. I just sort of threatened to take away his football scholarship. Who knew that’d be so important to him?”
“How did you threaten to take away his scholarship?” she questioned, her pale blue eyes twinkling with curiosity.
“Overheard him talking to his friend about the legitimacy of the booth. Turns out–” I leaned in closer to her so that I could whisper, “–he’s not giving the money to charity.”
“Of course.” She shook her head in disbelief and fished out a crumpled ten dollar bill from her purse, handing it to me. “Why are jocks so predictable?”
I shrugged. “I think it’s in their nature to be like that. Comes with the title.”
Jillian’s gaze ventured away from me and into the direction of the kissing booth. “How do you think he’ll react to the videos when they get out?”
Another shrug followed by a short laugh. “Dunno, but it should be fairly interesting—I don't know why I haven't thought of this before. Blackmailing straight boys into submission is way more fun than having pointless sex with gay guys.”
My sister gave me a sideways glance as if silently debating the issue in her head, but after a moment’s hesitation, she finally released a heavy sigh. “This was only for shits and giggles, Jamie. You already cause enough trouble by stringing along all those guys who are desperately in love with you. Maybe you should think about settling down.”
“What, like you?” I snapped back with a stifled laugh. Jillian responded to the snide remark with an irritated eye roll, much like she did whenever I brought up her excuse of a relationship. If there was anything I learned about Jillian and her on-and-off romance with the president of the chess club was that relationships made people weak, bitter, and clingy. I had the displeasure of seeing love turn my sister from a sassy, wise-cracking fireball into a lovesick sap who cried way too much, and that was the last thing I wanted for myself.
So I was perfectly fine with stringing people alone for my pleasure.
Once the cashier returned with my order, I paid him with the money Jillian had given me and took a large bite of the hot dog. We said nothing else to each other as we both walked the carnival grounds without a particular destination in mind. As we passed the kissing booth, I couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Scar and smile.
▪ ▪ ▪
The carnival was a bust.
After a couple of hours of lame carnival music, girly screams, clowns, and people trying to persuade carnival goers into playing a game that they had no chance at winning, the evening of pure fun had come to an end. I had never been a fan of this stupid thing, much like most school events; the only reason I showed up was to get out of school early, since Carnival Week was highly recognized by Summer Hill High School. It took place once a year in order to provide opportunities for high school students to fulfill their community service requirement and give to charity, but nothing about it seemed sincere.
Most of the people who hosted booths were delinquents, racists, or just pure assholes. They didn’t care about charity. They only cared about themselves. Case and point: Scar Patterson.
It was all a charade in this little town of Summer Hill. There was a part of me that had occasional thoughts of running away, but there was also another part of me that forced me to stay. That part of me was the part that cared way too much about my sister. Even though I was almost certain that Jillian was more than capable of making a good future for herself without me, running away from the sibling bond that my twin and I took so long to make was out of the question.
Jillian had a habit of over-analyzing things. Nothing could ever just be with her. There always had to be a cause and a consequence and a solution, and so if I were to just up and leave, there'd be tons of questions to follow—questions I didn't feel like answering.
So I decided to stick it out in this piece of shit town for a couple years.
After everyone had filed out of the carnival grounds, I found myself hanging back by one of the abandoned booths. My attention had involuntarily shifted to Scar and his kissing booth, and an amused smile came to my face at the sight of him counting the money he had made as he talked to his best friend. I didn’t know much about the black boy, other than that he never left Scar’s side. The two were stuck together like glue; you couldn’t get one without the other.
I wondered if he knew about the kiss.
After watching the two boys talk to each other for a while, I grew bored and started on my way to the parking lot just like everyone else, but a short figure stepped in front of me, making me stop in my tracks. “Hey, Jamie!” the figure, who I knew to be known as Max Caldwell, one of the boys who happened to be desperately in love with me, exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“That’s because I didn’t want you to know that I was here.”
His lips pulled into a wide grin as he stepped closer until our torsos were practically touching. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
I gave him a quick nod just before roughly shoving him away, but as expected, he responded by closing the gap between us. “I know, but now is not the time.” I pushed myself off the booth and trudged towards the nearest exit.
It didn't take long for Max to catch up to my side, giggling to himself. “You’re lucky that I like that you play hard to get. Most guys would run the other way if they were in my position.”
“Most guys don’t,” I quipped. “I got good looks, good humor–I’m the whole package.”
Max’s tongue swiped over his lips in a way that I couldn’t help but find sexy. “Uh huh,” he said, “tell me more about your package.”
I stopped in my long strides and snapped my eyes to his big, brown, soulful ones. “Know what? I think I can spare a few minutes.” He raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow, then ran a hand through his always-kept black hair just before breaking into that same silly grin. I snaked my fingers around his wrist and roughly pulled him in the direction of one of the empty booths out of the way of the outgoing traffic. Hastily, I placed a hand at the back of his neck and pulled him closer to me, crashing my lips on his. The kiss deepened almost instantly as Max forced his tongue down my throat. He tasted like cotton candy, and I hated cotton candy, but I didn’t dare complain.
After all, this wasn't supposed to be the passionate kind of kiss, but rather the sloppy, desperate kind.
I slipped my hands under his shirt and quickly slid it over his head, tossing it to the side and not caring about where it landed. Our kiss grew hot as our body heat combined as one and radiated between us. I started to unbutton Max's pants, but he stopped me by placing his hands on mine. “Wait.”
I rolled my eyes and groaned. “What?”
The corner of his lips curled into a silly smirk. “I’ve never done it at a carnival before.”
Slowly removing his hands from mine and successfully unbuttoning his pants, I stuck a hand down his briefs. “Well, there's a first time for everything.”
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