Kissing Booth (Rewritten)

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A First Time for Everything

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 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.

So 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 wavy tresses. 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."