Kiss n Tell

by Suzy McCoppin

  “Yeah, it was hard to miss them, what with his failure to button his shirt.”

  Vaughn shrugged, grinning. “He’s so much hotter than Xander … did you get a picture?”

  I returned her phone. “See for yourself,” I said.

  Vaughn squealed, jumping up and down. She scanned through the photos, her jaw dropped. She hugged me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” she exclaimed. “Can you imagine what the Shrew Crew would think if they saw these?”

  “You’d be their own personal hero,” I said.

  “Omigod, we need to post these on Instagram!”

  I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”

  “Are you kidding me? We can’t just sit on this gold mine!”

  “Isn’t that sort of … I dunno. Desperate?”

  “Who cares?” she shrieked.

  I sighed, illuminating my Blackberry to check the time. It was already almost 1 a.m. If we wanted to get home in time to make it look like we went to a late movie, we had better get going. “Vaughn, it’s late. We better head out.”

  “What about Baron?”

  “What about him?”

  “Should I say goodbye?”

  I shrugged. I really didn’t know the protocol. Vaughn took my hand, leading me back to Baron’s table. We snaked through the crowd only to find him absently fondling one of the models. Vaughn didn’t seem to mind. She climbed over their knobby knees and kissed him on the cheek. He stared at her blankly for a beat, clearly trying to place her, even though he had just had his tongue down her throat less than ten minutes ago. When a bell finally rang somewhere in that pretty little noggin of his, he pulled out his smart phone to take down her number. Vaughn lit up.

  Outside, Vaughn gave the ticket to the valet guy while I hung back, stealing glances at the hot photographer probably waiting for Mischa to stumble out and eat the pavement or something. He met my eyes and winked at me. I shuddered slightly, feeling my face burn up. I didn’t know if I should talk to him, thank him for helping us get in, or if it was cooler to say nothing. He scratched behind his ear, squinting at me a little, and I decided I didn’t care about being cool. I was and had always been quintessentially uncool. I headed toward him, smiling shyly.

  “Hey you,” he said.

  “Hey,” I managed, shifting my weight.

  “How was it in there?”

  “Pretty intense,” I said, smiling. “I wanted to thank you for, uh, for helping us before.”

  He nodded, shrugging. “Of course.” He lifted his hand and touched my face, just below the eye, lingering for a second. “You had an eyelash,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I murmured.

  “Any good stories from inside?”

  “Now that you mention it…” I said, glancing at Vaughn, arms crossed at the valet stand, a bemused smile on her face. He took a step closer to me, looking a little devilish. “My friend made out with Baron Caldwell,” I whispered.

  His brow furrowed. “The guy from Bloodletting?” he asked.

  “The very one!”

  “Huh,” he said. “That guy’s a douche.”

  “She has a type,” I shrugged.

  “But he’s not your type,” he confirmed, smiling at me.

  I shook my head, scrunching up my nose in distaste. “He was pretty disgusting, actually,” I said. “I have the pictures to prove it.”

  The photographer’s eyes widened. “You have pictures?” he asked. I nodded. He touched my arm, looking me dead in the eye. “You have pictures of Baron Caldwell making out with someone?”

  “My friend Vaughn, yeah. Why?”

  He shook his head, stunned. “That’s huge.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Those pictures could be worth like, 5,000 bucks.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Can I see them?”

  I turned around, waving Vaughn over to us. She teetered on her platforms, sporting a newfound confidence.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Vaughn, this is—” I realized I never learned his name. I turned to him, flushed.

  He smiled. “I’m Austin.”

  “Austin,” I said. “He wants to take a look at the pictures. He says they could be worth 5,000 dollars,” I whispered.

  Vaughn’s eyes widened. “Are you freaking kidding me?” she barked.

  “Nope.”

  “Holy shitballs!” she said, fishing through her bag frantically for her Blackberry. She scanned through it for a moment and handed it to him, expectant.

  He checked them out, nodding. “These are great,” he said, glancing at me. “You took these?” I nodded. He scanned through the last of the images and smiled, meeting my eyes. “You’re a natural,” he said. I blushed, my face dipping to my feet.

  “So, you think we could sell these?” Vaughn asked.

  “Sure,” Austin said. “But if you’re not desperate for cash or anything, you could watermark them and put them up on your own site. Drive traffic and go from there.”

  Vaughn flashed me a look, her eyes big as saucers. “Do you know how many outfits we could buy if we had our own gossip site?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, Vaughn,” I said warily. “It sounds like a lot of work.”

  “I could help you guys,” Austin offered. “Cut you a deal with my photos.”

  “You would do that?” I asked.

  He smiled. “Of course.”

  I wanted to be skeptical of this random act of kindness, but his big brown eyes sat unwavering on me and, for whatever reason—I hoped it wasn’t just his immaculate good looks—I trusted him.

  “What’s your number?” Vaughn asked, thumbs at the ready.

  They had exchanged digits and PINs by the time the valet guy finally approached with Vaughn’s mom’s keys. I gave Austin a small wave and made my way to the car. He shuffled after me, taking my arm. I turned, a little hopeful.

  “I just realized,” he breathed, “I never got your name.”

  “Anais,” I said.

  He mouthed it, memorizing it. “Good night, Anais. Don’t let your friend lose my number.”

  “I won’t,” I said softly, opening the passenger’s side door of the Corolla.

  I saw him in the mirror as we pulled away from the curb. He was watching us leave, his face resigned but traced with promise. My heart swelled. It was just like in the movies.

  11.

  INTERNET MOGULETTES

  Vaughn

  Pam didn’t suspect a thing, which is a minor miracle since I was so giddy from my first kiss I could barely keep it together. When we got back to Anais’s house, we huddled outside the door for a moment, whispering, jiggling the keys as quietly as possible. We crept inside and there she was, sprawled out on their worn leather couch, obviously sauced from wine at dinner, watching some black-and-white movie with Marilyn Monroe and some dudes in drag. I guess it was supposed to be funny, but it really wasn’t funny.

  “Girls!” Pam cried, outstretching her arms to us.

  Anais shut the door behind her, regarding her mother quizzically. “Uh, hi,” Anais said. “How was your date?”

  Pam shrugged. “Bald,” she replied.

  “You mean bad?” Anais asked.

  “No, I mean bald, as in he had no hair. His head was so shiny it nearly blinded me,” she sighed. “God, I’m old.” I snickered. She was acting pretty loopy. “How was the movie?” she asked. I turned to Anais.

  “Good,” Anais replied, her voice raised ever-so-slightly to suggest innocence. “I had already seen it,” she said.

  “What was it?”

  “Breathless.”

  Pam frowned. “The one where Brigitte Bardot sunbathes naked the whole time?”

  “No, that’s Contempt. Breathless is the one about the car thief,” Anais corrected, inching toward the door to her room. I trailed Anais wordlessly, following her lead. “Anyway, we’re pretty beat,” she said. “We’re gonna go, um, hit the hay.”

  “Okay. ‘Night sweethear
t,” Pam slurred, her glassy eyes fixed on the television.

  We shut the door behind us and immediately started giggling. “Hit the hay?” I chuckled. “Who says that?”

  Anais gripped her stomach, collapsing onto the bed laughing. The thrill of the whole night washed over us. The paparazzi snapping my photo. Brushing elbows with Katy Perry. Making out with Baron Caldwell. Making out with Baron Fucking Caldwell! Getting the goods to become the next Perez Hilton. (A hopefully less crotch shot-centric Perez Hilton.) Pam, drunk on the couch. And Anais. Well, Anais was in love. She buried her face in her pillow and screamed as loud as she could.

  “Somebody had fun …” I teased.

  She threw the pillow at my head. “Shut up,” she said, grinning.

  “Should we do it again tomorrow night?” I asked.

  She frowned, propping herself on her elbow. “I don’t want to push it with my mom,” she said.

  I sat down next to her. She had to understand that in the grand scheme of moms, her mom was pretty awesome. Doing the Kardashians’ hair, dating bald men, getting drunk? These qualities were pretty out of the ordinary for parents of teenagers.

  “But,” I started, trying to tread lightly, “Don’t you want to see Austin again?”

  She smiled, sitting upright. “Okay, you talked me into it,” she said, smirking. I laughed. “But Vaughn,” she said, her voice all stern and annoying, “if we’re gonna do this gossip site thing, you need to get one hundred percent on board. I don’t want to be stuck blogging away on my own.”

  “But you won’t be on your own,” I said, “You’ll be with Austin,” I teased.

  She shook her head and stood up, reaching for her laptop. “What about you?” she said. “I’d think your tongue would be pretty exhausted by now, what with all the strenuous kissing.”

  “Save it for the site, lady,” I snapped, peering over her shoulder at the laptop screen. She smiled and signed on to Lunarpages to check URL availability. “What should we call it?” I asked.

  She paused, looking at me. “Isn’t it obvious?” she said. I frowned and watched as she typed the words “kiss and tell” into the search box.

  “Kiss and Tell. Now that’s actually not bad,” I remarked.

  “Too late. It’s unavailable,” she sighed.

  I squinted at the screen. “But it says here we could use kissandtell.net,” I suggested.

  “Everyone knows dot net URLs are the worst,” she groaned.

  “Do they?”

  She looked me in the eye. “The. Worst.”

  I sighed, taking the laptop from her. “Lemme try something,” I said. I typed in “fully frenching” as a joke, but Anais wasn’t amused. She rolled her eyes. The good news was, fullyfrenching.com was free to purchase and a viable back up if all else failed. Then I figured it out. I tried “kissntell” instead of “kiss and tell” and there it was. KissnTell.com was available for only 180 dollars a year. “We’ve got to get it,” I said. “Right?”

  Anais nodded. “But how do we pay for it?” she whispered.

  I shrugged. “My emergency credit card?” I squeaked.

  Anais frowned. “You call this an emergency?” she retorted dubiously.

  “It’s only fifteen dollars a month! Darlene and George aren’t gonna make a big thing out of it,” I justified.

  “Vaughn,” Anais said. She was talking to me all low and slow like I was mentally challenged or something. “Your mom is the most frugal person I know. She thought Supercuts was too pricey.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll tell her I’m on birth control,” I said.

  “What?” Anais squawked.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “You think that’s going to appease her?” she pressed.

  I averted my eyes, staring at the textured plaster ceiling. “I’ll tell her I’m still a virgin but want to be prepared in case the big day comes along. It’s responsible!”

  Anais scoffed. “Do me a favor and don’t call it ‘the big day’ when explaining the charges to your mom. Which reminds me,” she said, crossing her legs, “is she really going to believe you’re buying birth control from a website called Lunarpages?”

  “Lunar, like lunar cycle. It works perfectly!”

  Anais rolled her eyes and put up her hands in surrender. “Hey, it’s your life. Do what you want.”

  I grinned, leaping from the bed for my wallet and retrieving my basically untouched AmEx card. Once the URL was ours, we created a logo, which was cute and blue and pink with a heart dotting the “i.” For some reason, it kind of made me think of Selena Gomez eating Pinkberry, which wasn’t such a terrible image to conjure. Like a true geek, Anais had taken an HTML elective last semester and spent the rest of the evening—well, technically morning—hunched over her notebook, designing a simple but fun layout for the site.

  While she was working, I lay on my back pondering my first kiss. It wasn’t what I’d imagined. I know it’s ridiculous, but I had still hoped Xander would have a change of heart, apologize profusely for everything he had put me through, kiss me and fall in love with me (not necessarily in that order). Or, if not Xander, someone else. Call me old fashioned, but I did want to be in love, or at least in like with the first guy I kissed. Not to mention it could’ve been somewhat … softer. Baron borderline choked me with his monster tongue.

  I rolled into the fetal position. My head was heavy, but my heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Not many girls can boast having their first kiss with their television crush. That’s like if my mom had made out with Charles in Charge or if my dad had locked lips with one of Charlie’s Angels. And it’s not like it was a one-night thing; we exchanged numbers. What if I started dating Baron Caldwell? What if we became, like, an item? I’d have to start wearing dark sunglasses everywhere so the paparazzi wouldn’t catch me with my eyes closed. I’d have to install tinted windows in my car. I’d have to get a car.

  “Hey, wake up,” Anais said, shaking me.

  “I was awake,” I said groggily, sitting up.

  “Check it out,” she said, turning her laptop to me. I squinted at the screen. Anais had uploaded the photos from my phone and posted our first story. “What do you think?” she pressed. There it was in its grainy, amber and black glory: Baron and my silhouettes against the glow of Trousdale’s bar.

  BARON BITES MYSTERY BRUNETTE AT TROUSDALE

  Last night, sources spotted Bloodletting hottie Baron Caldwell ditching a table full of models to spend some Q.T. with a tall brunette at the bar. From the looks of it, this vampire sucks hard. More juicy photos below!

  Every image was stamped with the KissnTell.com logo, so if anyone tried to repost the photos, they’d hear about our site.

  “Holy crap!” I exclaimed, “You did all this before dawn?”

  Anais grinned. “Now we just have to leak it to Perez, Just Jared, and whoever else you think should have it,” she said.

  I sighed and collapsed on the bed. “Admit it,” I said. “My plan worked.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” I started, taking a breath. “It made us … happy. Gave us purpose.”

  “We had purpose before,” she countered.

  “I guess, but this is so much more fun.”

  Anais laughed, shaking her head. But deep down, I knew she knew it was true.

  12.

  BLOWING UP

  Anais

  I jumped awake. Vaughn’s Blackberry was buzzing, knocking the hard Formica surface of my desk. I pushed some hair out of my eyes and rubbed them. Mascara particles crumbled under my fingertips. I must have fallen asleep without washing my makeup off, breaking my mom’s number one pageant girl law of beauty. I picked up Vaughn’s Blackberry, silencing it. Who would be calling her anyway, if not me? It occurred to me her mother could be concerned. The clock read 1:08 p.m., and she probably hadn’t heard from Vaughn since yesterday afternoon. I checked the call log and my heart nearly stopped.

  It was Austin. The hot photographer.


  I froze. My hands quaked. I noticed she had a few messages as well, which I knew better than to assume were from her mom. Darlene could barely work their microwave. I turned to Vaughn, who was deep in slumber, a dainty puddle of drool spread across my pillow and haloed her gaping mouth. I scanned the menu to retrieve the messages. Vaughn wouldn’t mind—she’d do the same thing if it were the other way around.

  You guys work fast.

  My instincts were correct. It was from Austin Green. But what was he talking about? KissnTell? There was no way our photos had swept the nation that quickly. Was there?

  Hey, can you send me A’s #? I’d like to congratulate her too.

  I smiled and felt my face burn up as I typed my number. I debated adding a smiley face but decided against it, in case it was too immature. I stared at his name for a moment. Austin Green. I liked the way it looked on the screen. I placed her phone carefully back on my desk, sat down, and opened my laptop. I checked Perez. On the second page, sandwiched between Chad Kroeger and Avril Lavigne’s wacky red carpet moment and the quote of the day from Selena Gomez, was our story with our logo plastered across the page.

  “Holy shit,” I marveled. Vaughn tossed and turned a little, groaning. “Vaughn,” I said, “you’ve got to wake up. You’re not gonna believe this.” She rolled toward me, blinking. I hurried over to the edge of the bed with the laptop, turning it to her. As soon as she laid eyes on her photo on Perez Hilton, she scrambled upright, her eyes wide.

  “Omg,” she said. “It actually worked.”

  I nodded, grinning. “I think this means KissnTell.com is officially open for business.” She ripped the laptop from my hands. “Let’s see who else picked it up,” she said, creating an advanced Google search. I bit my thumb anxiously.

  “By the way,” I started shyly. Vaughn glanced at me quickly and then back to the screen. “I’m surprised your phone didn’t wake you up this morning. It was blowing up.”

  “My mom?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “That’s what I thought too but …”

  She looked up at me, confused. “What?”

  “It was Austin,” I said, blushing like crazy.