Page 33 of Kiss Collector
“Don’t worry, I can’t either,” I say.
I grab a pink scoop-neck shirt of silky material. I think it’s Kenz’s.
“Can I wear this?” I ask her.
She finally catches her breath and says, “Of course!”
A good song comes on the playlist and Lin dives towardthe music dock, turning it up so we can sing along. Kenzie is as off-key as always, but still sings at the top of her lungs. Monica’s two little cousins try to come in and dance with us, but she wrangles them out and locks the door.
When we’re finally dressed, and every strand of hair has been either straightened or curled, we apply lipstick and gloss for the maximum kissable look. Then we join arms and set off into Monica’s neighborhood for Callum’s house.
Watch out, baseball boys.Here we come.
It’s more of a get-together than a party. Most of the varsity baseball team is here, along with a few of the more popular boys from JV. Their girlfriends are here and a smattering of other girls who crush on them.
I’d been hoping for loud music and bad behavior, but everyone is crammed into the living room watching a game on television.
I’m so not feelin’ it.
Kyle is in a recliner, and I hold back an eye roll when Kenzie and Lin both rush over and sit on the arms of the chair on either side of him. He smiles like he won the lottery, which he did in my opinion. A tenth-grade girl who’s on the floor by his feet frowns.
This better not end badly.
Monica and I stand against the back wall and wave to the girls we know, trying to catch the eyes of the ones we don’t and smile at them. Girl camaraderie is a must. After a few minutes of boredom I cross my eyes at Monica, and she pretends to nod off, eyelids fluttering as her eyes roll back. Her head bangsagainst the wall and I snort as she rubs the spot, saying, “Ow!”
My spirits lift when an older boy comes in carrying two cases of beer. All the guys jump up and run into the adjacent kitchen, talking animatedly now.
“Callum’s brother,” Monica informs me. He drops the beer off, accepts money from Callum and his friends, then leaves us.
The energy in the house goes up as beers are passed around. All four of us girls take one. We’re not huge drinkers—let’s be honest, we’ll all be buzzed and acting crazy after one or two—but we let loose now and then. Kenzie threw up all over the inside of my van once, so I’ve tried to keep her from getting that drunk again. Cleaning puke is not my idea of fun.
Soon the group breaks off—guys with girlfriends going into the formal dining room to hang out and play cards as couples—the other half standing around in the kitchen, laughing and talking. It begins to feel more like a party. I lean against the counter and take sips of my nasty, lukewarm beer. Eyeing the crowd, I narrow down the selection to Brent Dodge from English class. He’s a bit on the short side, an inch or two taller than me, with a baby face. He wears his baseball hat low on his forehead. When he catches me looking, he pauses in his conversation with one of the guys. I smile and look away, angling toward Monica.
“Brent is staring at you,” Monica says through her teeth.
“Good. Who do you have your eye on?” I hold my breath and take three big glugs of the beer.Blech.
“Mateo,” she says, then chugs and shivers. “He’s cool.”
I look over at Mateo, the lanky pitcher. Monica has a thing for tall guys.
“Incoming,” she whispers.
Seconds later I feel body warmth from behind, followed by a voice.
“What’s up, girls?”
I turn to Brent Dodge’s smiling face. His cheeks are a little ruddy. Cute.
“Not much,” I say. The familiar light sensation of a buzz is beginning to lift me.
“I’m trying to find some cards for a drinking game. You in?”
Ugh. Drinking games always get me wasted. I grin and lift my can. “How ’bout I just cheer you on?”
“Sweet. My own personal cheerleader.” He beams at me once more before bounding off to find some cards.
“Too easy,” Monica said with a sigh. “Not even a fair win.”
