Kiss Off

Chapter 1

I kissed a boy once.

It had been my first time. It was supposed to be that moment I had always dreamt of. I'd spent years imagining the epic swirl of blissful, tingling delight that would accompany the experience. Instead, it turned out to be a major disappointment.

Not so much for me... but for him.

Yes, I kissed him. And instead of fireworks exploding around us and our eyes locking in shocked pleasure, he dragged his hand across his mouth, gave me a pathetic smile and took a step back. I thought I'd died. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. A kiss is what was supposed to awaken a man's feeling, right? He was supposed to realize just how much he'd been missing out on by depriving himself of me all these years.

Instead, he acted as though the kiss solidified everything he'd already known to be true about me. I wasn't good enough. I wasn't his type. I was a regret that he couldn't wipe from his memory... or his lips.

"I'm sorry," he had murmured, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I shouldn't have let that happen."

"Why?" The question had dropped from my lips without any thought. Honestly, I'm glad it did. As much as I'd dreaded his response, I'd also needed it. I had to know what was so awful about me that something as simple as a PG kiss could have disgusted him in such an obvious way.

"I just—" He'd cut himself off, tilting his head back and breathing heavily into the sky before finding my eyes again. "I just don't... I don't feel that way... about you."

"Then how'd we get into this situation?" I'd challenged, tucking my hair behind my ear and leveling my gaze with his.

His eyes had narrowed, shoulders rotating back so he was standing at his full height. "Are you saying that I'm responsible for you kissing me?"

"No," I'd answered casually, slipping my hands into the pockets of my dress. "It seemed pretty mutual. Besides, it's not as though I lunged at you. There was plenty of opportunity for you to stop this and you just let it happen. So yes, you are partially responsible. Because, unlike you, my feelings do exist." I shook my head in disappointment. "Maybe you should be a little more aware of your own actions before you start giving kisses away to girls you care nothing about."

And then I'd pivoted on my heel and sauntered away with head held high, shoulders confident, and heart shattered.

That was nearly five years ago, and since then, I'd sort of created a game with myself. A challenge. I refused to let rejection scare me away from boys. So, instead, I started searching for it. If I expected rejection, then I couldn't be disappointed when it happened.

Might also be how I managed to snag the title of the school slut. Not my greatest accomplishment, believe me. Especially since my V-card was still in tact (and planned to remain that way). Somehow, people didn't care about reality though. They cared about having something bigger than their own issues to talk about. Maybe I should view it as charity. I was sacrificing my own reputation as a means of helping others feel better about their own screw-ups. What a joke!

It'd never been that big of a deal to me. Crushes were painful but nothing I couldn't handle. Being turned down would dampen my mood for a couple hours and then I'd brush off the negativity and get back out there.

Until now.

Because suddenly, I didn't want to be rejected. Not by Bryson Andrews anyway.

He was my friend. Well... sort of. He was part of our friend group. We'd chat on occasion but never made any kind of effort to hang out outside of our circle. I'd always been attracted to him. Kind of hard not to be when he's the walking definition of hot!