Page 32 of Kiss Collector
Another song comes on that we learned in the car, and the four of us girls gather together in a huddle to sing. The boys surround us, watching us with confidence, giving off clear vibes to everyone else that they’ve claimed us. But really, us girls are the ones who own them. The four of us share knowing smiles as we shake our booties.
We dance through one more song, paying little attention to the guys. When the third set comes on, something slower, I turn to Mike in his black cowboy hat, and put my arms on his shoulders. A small grin graces his face as he takes my hips and we begin to dance. He’s waited patiently for this. I freeze for a second as he starts to sing along, his voice sounding smooth and perfectly in tune. I can’t help but melt as he croons the romantic lyrics to me.
But I will not fall.
I tilt my head up and take his lips with mine. Withouthesitation, he kisses me back, his mouth firm and assertive with a hint of rum. I feel almost secluded and protected under the darkness of that wide-brimmed hat.
“You taste good,” he murmurs against my lips, making me blush a little in the darkness. I wind my arms tighter around his neck and press my body to his. He moans into my mouth, burning me up.
When the song ends, I turn around and lean my back against his chest. He puts his arms around me, and we spend the rest of the concert like that. My friends do the same. I see them dancing with their guys, laughing, and, yes, kissing. The two straggler boys end up wandering off, I assume to meet other girls.
Mike sings in my ear with his lovely low voice, and we rock back and forth to the beat. He knows every word to every song. Several times he rests his chin on my shoulder, placing kisses on my cheeks, even nibbling my earlobe. I can’t believe I’m snuggling with a cowboy. I take what I want from him: his affection, his kisses, his full attention. It’s everything I need right now without the heartache that goes along with commitment.
At the end of the show, Mike whispers in my ear, “You gotta phone number I can have?”
I turn to him, looking up with a small smile. “You’re going off to college. You’ll meet lots of girls.”
He looks at me funny, as if surprised. “You don’t wanna hang out before I go?”
I shake my head. “I’m not trying to get my heart broken by a boy who’s on his way out.” I go up on my tiptoes and press mylips to his one last time. His eyes are still sort of bulging with shock, and I’m guessing no girl has ever denied him her digits.
“I had fun tonight,” I tell him. He’s gawking, staring at me as I back away, the crowd surging around us with people trying to leave. I find Kenzie and take her hand.
“Bye!” she’s telling Brown Hat Boy.
“Wait,” he says, but she’s already turning away, giggling as I pull her. Lin and Monica are ahead of us, getting pushed along by the surge of concertgoers. I take one last peek over my shoulder and see the four guys standing in a line, just like they were when we first saw them, watching us. But their expressions this time are baffled. Not a single one of the poor guys knows what hit him.
Chapter Fourteen
Monday Night
It’s time for night two of kiss collecting. Right now, the four of us are tied. I pull up in front of Monica’s old brick rambler and climb out, grabbing my things. We’re all staying at Monica’s tonight since she lives so close to the party.
Thank God for friends. Mine are crazy and silly, and I love them so hard. They have been just what I need.
As always, dressing for the party is a free-for-all. We throw our clothes on the bed and start digging through, since we wear similar sizes, though nothing fits us exactly the same. Monica ends up with my lime-green V-neck tank pulled low over her chest.
“Dang,chica, this shirt’s too small.” She peers down at the inches of cleavage on display.
“Um... it doesn’t look like that on me,” I tell her.
Kenzie giggles. “That tank can’t handle D-dub’s cargo.”
Now we all laugh. It’s been a while since we used our nicknames. In the beginning of sophomore year we realized the four of us had different cup sizes. Monica was a D cup, Lin was a C, I was a B, and Kenzie was an A. We started calling each other D-dub, C-kat, B-diddy, and A-dawg.
Stupid, I know, but we thought we were so witty to be able to talk about our bra sizes in public with nobody catching on.
“Yeah, this isn’t gonna work,” Monica says. “My girls are getting squished too hard.”
She peels the tank over her head and tosses it back on the pile. We aren’t comfortable enough to go naked around one another, contrary to the fantasies of our guy friends, but we’re okay with being in our undies.
Monica leans over me to grab another shirt off her bed, and her boob side smacks me softly but firmly in the forehead.
“Arg!” I laugh, hunkering down. “You just boob punched me in the head!”
“Sorry!” Monica laughs. And then Kenzie lets out adorable giggles that shake her whole body.
“Boob punch!” Kenz grabs her stomach and rolls around. It’s near impossible not to laugh when Kenzie gets like this. “I wish I could boob punch someone! No fair.”
