Just One Kiss

by Amelia Whitmore

  “You too. Your son is great,” I tell him honestly.

  “Yeah, he takes after me,” he brags.

  I snort a little, but try to cover it up as a cough.

  “Well, it was nice meeting you all. Enjoy the rest of the Fall Fest, okay?”

  I’m not trying to push them away, but I don’t really understand why they’re still here. Landon and Zander turn to leave, in search of new entertainment, but Brayden lingers a moment, fiddling.

  “I know this is sudden, but can I get your number?” He’s flustered.

  My eyes widen in shock.

  “My, uh, my . . . my n-number? W-why?” I stammer.

  “To call you. Or if you don’t like to talk on the phone, maybe we could text?” he offers quickly, blushing at the end. Landon has stopped walking and is laughing hysterically, making me nervous. Is this a prank?

  “N-I, um, I-uh . . .” I can’t complete the sentence; I’m honestly too surprised to respond appropriately.

  Before I can reject him, Aurora, whom I’d completely forgotten about, steps in and hands him a piece of paper with my name and number on it. “If you hurt her, I’ll break you.” She warns sincerely before disappearing back to wherever she’d been.

  Brayden smiles in relief, “Okay. I’ll talk to you later”—he glances at the paper—“Anna.”

  As soon as he walks away, I turn to Ro and smack her arm. “Ouch! What the—” she cries out, rubbing the spot I hit.

  “Why would you do that? Couldn’t you see how hard that Landon guy was laughing? Clearly it was all just some kind of joke or something!” I cut her off angrily.

  I can feel myself getting emotional. In my life, I learned the hard way not to trust people. In fact, Ro is the only person I’ve trusted in a very long time, and now she just helped those guys tease me. To say I feel betrayed is putting it lightly.

  “Come on, do you honestly think that if I thought they were joking, I would have given it to him?” she asks with a roll of her eyes.

  “I don’t know. It seems like you would.” I cross my arms, my low self-esteem filling my mind with doubt.

  “Seriously, Anna? Get over yourself. Of course I wouldn’t. You’re my best friend and I would never ever hurt you intentionally. Stop being a brat.” Her words get through to me and I lower my head. Suddenly, she was the one feeling betrayed.

  “I’m sorry, but what the hell do I do if he calls? I hate talking on the phone, even to you. I’m sure as hell not going to do it with a stranger.”

  I can see the perverted little smirk take over her face. “But doing it with a stranger is awesome, doll.”

  I groan and roll my eyes. I should have seen that one coming.

  “You’re a pig, Aurora,” I tell her fondly.

  “Yes, but you love me.” At least she doesn’t try to deny it.

  “That I do, Pig. That I do.” We both laugh at my cheesy reference and move on.

  “Really, I think that you just need to be yourself. I mean, nobody would expect that somebody like you could be the way you are.”

  I wrinkle my eyebrows. “That made zero sense.”

  “Yeah, but you know what I meant.” She rolls her eyes.

  “Um, actually, I’m not sure that I do.” I admit.

  “You come across as Anna: this shy, quiet, sweet girl. But as soon as somebody gets to know you, they get introduced to Annie: the loud, funny, strong person that you truly are,” she ends fondly.

  “Awww, you love me. You really love me!” I squeal, pulling her into an obnoxious hug. Even though I’m being sarcastic, what she said is true.

  “Of course I do, Shrek,” she says. The nickname started when we were stretched out on my couch watching Shrek one night and Ro said, “Yo, Annie, you’re totally like Shrek! You’re all fierce and never let people get close to you.” I told her that if I was Shrek, she was Donkey.

  “I love you too, Donkey.” And I laugh as she tries to escape my hug.

  The carnival is technically open until ten at night, but by nine thirty all of the games have closed down and everyone is waiting for fireworks. Well, I’m not. Aurora and I got out of there as soon as Mom came to tell us we could go.

  Chapter Three

  Miscommunication and Coffee

  Since Ro is working the night shift at Starbucks, I’m home alone watching Roseanne reruns on the TV Land channel. Roseanne is my guilty pleasure. I’ve loved it since I was little—long before I realized how obnoxious her laugh is. I realize how tragic it is that I’m so into the episode that I barely register my phone ringing. “Hello?” I ask, still distracted by the TV.

  It actually takes me a few seconds to realize it’s not Ro on the other end. “Wait, what?” I ask.

  “Um, this is Brayden . . .” He pauses, clearly waiting for me to say something. I can’t though. I am too amazed that he actually called. He starts talking again.

  “I don’t know if you remember me but I was at the carnival and you helped my nephew, Zander. He, uhh . . . he wanted a monkey?” He sounds uncomfortable, nervous even.

  I shake my head and nod, only to realize that he can’t see that. “Uh, I remember you,” I answer brilliantly.

  The voice on the other end of the line perks up. “You do?”

  I let out a small laugh.

  “Yes. I remember you. You were there with your brother, Landon, right? You wore a green hat with an A’s symbol on it.” I smack my forehead. Wow, I sound like a total stalker.

  “Yeah, that was me!” He actually sounds happy, which makes me blush and somehow feel relieved. I’m not sure what to say now, so we just kind of stay silent for a moment. Brayden starts talking again.

  “So, uh, your name is Anna, yeah?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I echo.

  As soon as the word leaves my mouth, my elbow accidentally bumps the “Mute” button on the remote and suddenly my whole room is filled with laughter from the TV.

  I hear his soft snort of amusement before he asks, “Is that Roseanne?”

  I blush darker and bite my lip, wondering if he’d just give up on me and hang up if I admit this to him. “Yeah, it is,” I say, mortified that the hottest guy in the world knows my secret.

  “That’s cute,” he says finally.

  That throws me for a loop, but I don’t have time to contemplate his words too much when he continues with, “I’m actually watching it too. TV Land, right?” he asks.

  My eyes widen and my jaw drops. “You watch Roseanne?”

  “Well, generally only when nothing else is on, but yeah,” he admits softly.

  “So, what else do you like to watch?” I blurt. Somehow, I can tell that he’s smiling.

  “I like watching sports, and that one tattoo show. Uh, I’m not gonna lie . . . sometimes I find myself watching cartoons too.” His voice is laced with sincere amusement at his confession.

  “I love cartoons,” I reassure him.

  “Really? Which ones?” he asks.

  “Um, well as a kid I loved Rugrats, and I still do. I like Scooby-Doo, and Looney Tunes is good too,” I say, smiling at the onset of childhood memories. “You?”

  “I was always a huge fan of The Flintstones and The Jetsons. Uhh . . . Spongebob is always great.”

  I laugh. “You like Spongebob?”

  “Of course! Who doesn’t?” he scoffs, playfully.

  “The only time I watch it is if my brother makes me. But I have a TV in my bedroom, so that isn’t often.”

  “You have a brother?” he asks, his interest swinging suddenly.

  I find myself flattered by his curiosity. “And a sister.”

  “Cool, how old are they?”

  “Lena is nineteen and Matt is sixteen.”

  “And you?” he asks, softer this time.

  “I’m eighteen. How about you?”

  “I’m twenty-one.” He sounds as though he’s admitting something awful.

  “Oh god, you’re so old!” I say sarcastically. Silently, I wonder how I could be so bo
ld with someone I don’t know.

  “Hey! I’m not that old!” he protests. “Why, is it too old for you? I mean, I understand if it is . . . I mea—”

  “Brayden, I’m not freaking out. So you stop freaking out.” I assure him gently. Why does he care what I think? I can’t help but smile when I hear his relieved sigh.

  “Sorry.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m not usually like this.”

  “Like what?” I wonder.

  “A total dweeb?” he offers.

  I laugh. “I don’t mind. It’s kind of adorable, really.”

  “Adorable. Cool, because that’s what I was going for,” he huffs, making me chuckle. “And she laughs . . .” he grumbles, sounding amused but still surly.

  “I can’t help it!” I cry, trying to stop my giggles.

  “That’s okay, I like the sound.” He sounds sincere and it makes me stop immediately.

  “Why do you keep doing that?” I ask suddenly.

  “Doing what?”

  “Well, you keep saying things like that,” I tell him.

  “Like what?” he asks cautiously.

  “Like saying it’s cute that I watch Roseanne, and um, that you like my giggles,” I grumble, blushing profusely. This was ridiculous.

  “Well, you are cute, and I do like your giggles,” he tells me.

  I’m immediately irritated. I know a lie when I hear one. “I’m not cute,” I huff. I can’t believe that I almost fell for that. It’s one thing to talk and laugh, but it’s another thing completely to lead me on.

  “Whoa, I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “Um, do you prefer beautiful?” he amends.

  I scoff, roll my eyes, and hang up on him. The last thing I need is to be played the fool. Like I said, I learned my lesson the first time.

  ***

  I keep my phone in my bedroom the next day while I watch TV in the den. By Monday morning, I’ve gotten five texts and three calls from Brayden, all of which I delete without reading or listening to. Ro catches up to me on my way to class.

  “Hey doll, so did that hottie call like he said he would?”

  I shake my head, having already decided to lie to her. “No, but I didn’t really expect him to anyway.”

  “What an asshole! If I’d have known, I never would have given him your number, Annie. Promise.”

  “It’s okay Ro. I know you didn’t mean for me to get hurt,” I assure her. “And I wasn’t,” I add, figuring the last thing I need is for Ro to think he’d gotten to me. I try to smile but the entire time I’m calling myself a liar. Because I definitely did get hurt. To hope that somebody like Brayden had an interest in me only to find out it was a joke . . . well, that sucked.

  “Well, doll, we’re off to capture the hearts of far better men,” Ro proclaims theatrically, weaving my arm through hers. She always seems to know what to say to make me smile.

  ***

  Morning comes far too early in the day and I’m running around my room to get ready. I slip on my skinny jeans by jumping up and down to get them over my hips. Some people, mainly my mother, tell me that skinny jeans are only for skinny people. I disagree. I have long enough legs that the jeans actually accentuate my curves rather than make me look larger than I am. At least that’s what Ro said and she never lies. I also pull on a blue and orange loose shirt, leather flip flops, a dusty pink beanie, and my golden locket. My hair is down in loose waves as usual.

  Even though there’s nobody in my life to dress up for, I still like putting effort into the way I look. I guess I want to somehow prove to people that I’m not just the weird, quiet girl people see me as. It doesn’t always help but I do it anyway.

  Downstairs, I run to my car and speed to school. It’s weird driving alone since I used to carpool with Matt. Now that he’s becoming popular, he prefers riding to school with his friends. I don’t mind; I get enough of the kid at home and it’s nice not having to drive by the high school to drop him off on my way to class at the community college.

  Last night I got to thinking and I came to the conclusion that I’m eighteen now and I need a job to pay for my own things. I don’t want to rely on my parents for everything; it makes me feel dependent and immature. That’s why today I’m going to talk to Ro about seeing if there are any job openings at Starbucks. I get to school just in time to talk to her before my first class.

  “Hey, doll, you’re looking gorgeous as usual,” she says, knowing I hate it when she tells me that. If she wasn’t so amazing, I’d despise her. But instead of getting irritated, I just laugh it off.

  “Yes, I know. Hey, I have a question.” I figure I better cut to the chase.

  “Hey, I might have an answer.” She grins.

  “Are there any job openings at Starbucks?”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, she bursts out laughing.

  “Hey, it’s not that funny! I would be a good worker!” I exclaim, almost wounded by her laughter.

  “No,” she gasps, “it’s not that.”

  When she finally calms down, she regales me with how, the night before, one of the baristas threw hot coffee in the face of an ex-boyfriend and was fired. They’re trying to fill her place as soon as possible.

  “Dude, talk about fate,” I smile, feeling hopeful.

  “Totally. Just follow me to work today and you can talk to my boss,” she says as we head off toward our class.

  Luckily for me, Ro and I both decided to get some of our basics out of the way at community college before heading off to university for our real degrees. And since we’re both just studying the basics, we can take a lot of the same classes.

  ***

  I really hope it’s this easy to find a job in the future. Although, I seriously doubt it will be. I talked to the manager, Jon, and he basically hired me on the spot. I’m taking home some forms to fill out for legal purposes, but I start on Friday. I don’t really know how my parents are going to handle me having a job. But I’ve been eighteen since September 3, two whole months, and it’s my decision.

  I pull into the driveway and sit there for a minute, suddenly more nervous than I have been in a while. Dad’s car is filling the garage space mine occupied this morning, so I have to leave my car in the cold. Inside, I can already smell Dad’s spaghetti. I go into the kitchen and find him dancing and singing along to some old ’80s music, wearing a chef’s hat and an apron. I can’t help but laugh a little when I see him. He quickly spins, grinning bashfully.

  “Everybody else is out, so I figured you were too,” he says.

  It’s kind of hard to explain; Dad is not so great with strangers and talking to people, but he is not really shy about doing some wild dancing in the kitchen.

  I smile softly. “I just got home. I, uh, actually want to talk to you about something,” I begin, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

  “Okay, shoot,” he tells me, turning back to his pasta.

  I take a deep breath and bite my lip.

  “I got a job today,” I say slowly.

  He peeks at me over his shoulder. “A job?”

  “Yeah.” I nod, nervous about what he will say next.

  “Where?” He sounds curious.

  “Starbucks. Ro helped. She talked to her boss and he hired me on the spot. I start Friday.”

  Instead of getting upset like I expected, he smiles.

  “Good for you, kiddo. It’ll be nice to see you spending time in the real world.”

  I scoff and give him a dirty look. “I spend plenty of time out there!” I claim.

  Dad holds in his laugh and turns to face me completely. “I know you do. I’m just saying that I think you’ll enjoy having a job. I think it’ll be good for you.”

  “Well . . . I’m glad.” I’m a little confused. He seems happy for me.

  Neither of us really say anything else important. I usually just end up rambling around Dad. It’s not that I don’t want to talk about the meaningful stuff, it’s just that my mom is the one I go to for advice. Dad is the person I talk
to just to talk. He’s a good sport; he always nods along and smiles at the right moments. I don’t talk about Brayden . . . Does that mean he’s important?

  Chapter Four

  What a Small World

  Tonight is Saturday and my second night working at Starbucks. I was kind of surprised at how quickly I caught on to the different types of drinks; it was all pretty easy. Plus, there’s a cheat sheet under the register in case I get stuck.

  I really like working. Not only because yesterday I learned how much fun it is to work with Ro, but also because the other people here are pretty awesome too. There’s Chance, who’s gorgeous with blond hair and smoky blue eyes. Liz is kind of adorable, with hair that reaches the middle of her back and a pretty smile. Jake has tousled blond hair and light brown eyes. Carlos is a Hispanic stud and he knows he’s hot. Then there’s Jon, who spends most of his time in the office, but comes out every once in a while to make a joke or two before retreating back to solitude.

  When I first walked in, I was so nervous I was shaking. I really didn’t want to be made fun of by my coworkers and I hadn’t really thought about that when I applied.

  Since we all work in shifts, last night Chance and Liz were working with Ro and me. I definitely didn’t expect to be attacked by a hug as soon as I got behind the counter. Liz is a touchy-feely kind of person and wanted to welcome me to the team. Chance shook my hand and introduced me to himself and to Liz. The rest of the night was filled with jokes and laughter while we worked. It was wonderful.

  I already knew Chance, but today I got to meet Carlos and Jake too. I feel a little bad for ruining the café’s streak for hiring gorgeous people. Working with three guys is basically like spending six hours with Aurora, times three. This must be where she developed her perverted side. Though, if I’m being honest, she had it long before she started working at Starbucks.

  I’m wiping off the counter after Carlos had a mishap with a blender and wondering why I’m so comfortable here. I think it’s because these guys are just like Ro. She accepted me when I felt like nobody else would, and they’re accepting me too.

  “So, Annie, what are you doing tonight?” Chance asks. Ro told Jon to put “Annie” on my nametag since that is what I go by with the people closest to me. It’s her way of hinting that I need to be more outgoing.