The Perks of Kissing You (Perks Book 3)

by Stephanie Street

  After what seemed a split second, Jamie was ushered off-stage and his agent, holding my elbow, led me to him in a special room backstage where he would talk to the media. I waited until he caught my eye and when he did, he stopped mid-sentence and rushed to my side. The woman interviewing him was so stunned, she stood there with her mouth gaping.

  “Jamie, what are you doing?” I was so worried he was going to get in trouble, I could hardly hug him back. It didn’t matter because he pulled away.

  “I promised myself this was going to happen today, right now. If I got drafted, this was the very next thing I was going to do.” He wasn’t making any sense. I was focused on him, but out of the corner of my eye I noticed his mom and Dallin and everyone we’d come with standing in the wings.

  Jamie dropped to one knee in front of me.

  “Oh, my goodness, Jamie,” I breathed.

  The reporter rushed to our side, her cameraman nearly in our faces.

  “Bales, I’ve loved you my whole life. And despite my many flaws, I think you love me, too-”

  “I do,” I rushed to reassure him, much to our audience’s amusement.

  Jamie smiled. “I’m really glad to hear that. Bailey, you are the only woman I ever want to hold, I ever want to be by my side, the only woman I ever want to kiss for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

  He held out a black velvet box. In its center rested a round diamond solitaire. It was stunning, but not as stunning as the man holding it.

  “Yes,” I nodded my head as tears rolled down my cheeks. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

  Grinning as wide as I’d ever seen him, Jamie rose to his feet and picked me up around my waist, letting out a loud whoop! The tv lady and her camera caught it all on film and I had a feeling we’d be seeing Jamie’s proposal tonight on all the sports channels.

  “I love you, Bales.”

  I could have answered, but instead, I kissed him because those were the perks of kissing Jamie Barnes. Joy. Love. Commitment.

  The End.

  Author’ Note

  I’m honored that you would take the time to read Jamie and Bailey’s story. If you enjoyed The Perks of Kissing You, I would sincerely appreciate a review online. Author’s love to hear from readers! Please, if you have a complaint about an aspect of the book’s formatting or editing, contact me at stephaniestreetauthor@gmail.com as opposed to leaving a negative review. I am always working to improve where necessary and those negative comments remain even when authors update to make corrections.

  Sincerely,

  Stephanie

  You can find me on Facebook at Stephanie Street-Author

  My blog at http://stephaniestreetauthor.blogspot.com/

  Or email at stephaniestreetauthor@gmail.com

  Keep reading for peeks of Save Me and Us at the Beach (available on Amazon).

  Sample Chapters of Us at the Beach

  Chapter One

  Blythe

  Do you ever have those days? You know, the ones you never see coming, but they change your life in such a profound way you have to wonder how you could have been so oblivious and easily blindsided? As a relatively unnoticed, virtually invisible, and average sixteen-year-old girl, I didn’t have very many of those days. The first, and probably the most significant so far, was the day I met my best friend Lilly. Being invisible and average has its benefits. Visible and average usually leads to visible, average, and bullied. But since I kept to myself, dressed halfway normal, and possessed equal amounts book smarts and self-preservation skills- I had somehow managed to fly under the radar for the first five years of school.

  It was during that fifth year, however, Mary Mulligan happened. Mary was the biggest kid in all of fourth grade. Boys and girls. Her tangled and matted red hair hung down the back of her too small t-shirt paired with leggings and cast-off boy’s tennis shoes. To be honest, I’d always felt sorry for Mary and wished I knew how to be her friend, but she was danged intimidating and remaining invisible seemed the smarter, if not kinder, route.

  I have no idea why I became visible to Mary that day, but the glares and snickers and spit balls on my desk told me I had. And what had begun as a simmer came to a rolling boil at afternoon recess when Mary stood above me after having pushed me to my knees on the cracked asphalt, watching as the tears welled in my too large hazel eyes.

  And then she appeared. Lilly Harper was as unlike me as any girl could be. Where I had straight brown hair, Lilly had curly golden hair. Where I was tall and skinny, Lilly’s body, even then, promised to be petite and curvy. Where I was shy and bookish, Lilly was outgoing and vivacious. When Lilly spoke, people listened. No one heard me when I screamed. Well, no one except Lilly.

  Lilly shouted in Mary’s face and then she did the bravest thing any kid in our fourth-grade class had ever done- she planted both palms on Mary’s broad shoulders and pushed with all her might. And Mary? Mary, eyes wide as dinner plates- toppled. All because of a pixie.

  And just like that, I had a best friend.

  Like I said, I didn’t have many life altering days in my sixteen years, but that was definitely one of them. Lilly Harper is still my very best friend and the person I texted within five minutes of walking into my backyard two weeks before my junior year of high school after a long day of babysitting a gaggle of hooligans. The day that changed everything.

  It had begun just like any other. I’d rolled out of bed at nine a.m. thankful today would be the last day of my summer babysitting job. I threw on a pair of cut-off jean shorts, a spaghetti strap tank top, and my trusty pair of bright red flip-flops. I yanked a brush through my long brown hair several times before tying it up in a messy bun on the top of my head. All set. It’s not like the Jackson kids cared one way or the other if I put on a layer of mascara- or showered. Besides I knew from eight weeks of hard earned experience, I would need a good soak once I got home. Why take two?

  I raced downstairs, pausing only to grab a banana on my way out the door. I was just about to take off down the street on my bike when my mom opened the front door to holler after me.

  “Don’t dawdle on your way home, Blythe. We’re having company for dinner. No detours to Lilly’s.” She pinned me with a knowing look when I opened my mouth to reject her poor opinion of my ability to come straight home.

  I rolled my eyes because I did make detours to Lilly’s on a regular basis. “Fine. I’ll be home right after.”

  I pedaled my bike down the driveway and onto Pine Street, the only street I’d ever lived on. My parents had brought all of us girls here from the hospital. Me sixteen years ago. The twins, Hope and Faith, six years later. And my baby sister, Joy, four years after that. Pine Street was in a nice, middle class neighborhood in central Indiana. My parents weren’t rich or anything, but we got by. My dad worked as an accountant in a firm he owned and operated with his partner, Mr. Lewis.

  At the end of last tax season, Mr. Lewis announced he was tired of the crazy schedule and he would be selling his interest in the accounting firm. Dad took this news hard. He and Mr. Lewis had been partners for the last few years after his last business partner had decided to move to California. Fortunately, Dad informed us last month he might have found a new accountant to take over for Mr. Lewis. I was happy for him. I knew he was stressed about finding someone before things got crazy again.

  Mom, on the other hand, stayed home and ran an Etsy online store. She made little girl clothes and hair accessories which had become popular to the point she had to hire another lady to help with the sewing. It turned out to be a good thing, because now she could spend more time managing the business and creative aspects of her store.

  All I knew was I was glad I’d grown too old to be subjected to her cutesy outfits and bows. It was with just a small amount of pity, and a gigantic portion of glee, I watched Faith and Hope try to squirm their way out of the ruffles and lace this last year or so. I didn’t envy them the next couple years of heartbreak they would be inflicting on Mom as they asserted their fas
hion independence. At least she still had Joy who couldn’t get enough of the color pink and refused to wear anything that didn’t sparkle.

  The Jackson’s lived five blocks over on Cedar Lane. They had three kids- all boys. The oldest, James, was ten like the twins. In fact, I’d hauled my sisters over a couple of times this summer for a fun day of water games in the Jackson’s backyard. The twins can be a huge pain when they want to be, but they can also be a lot of fun and James was in heaven, relishing all that female attention. Next, was Paul. Paul was six and was a prime candidate for juvenile detention. I swear, the only thing that would keep that kid out of jail was his good looks and charm. I never knew if I should laugh at him or lock him up in time out. Because of this, I never took Joy over to play with the Jackson kids. Joy was precocious enough. She didn’t need encouragement from a first-grade delinquent. The youngest Jackson boy was Michael. Michael was two and the sweetest little dude you’ve ever seen. He had poor eyesight and wore these coke bottle glasses secured on his head with a sporty looking headband. His magnified eyes just killed me every time he smiled up at me.

  I arrived at precisely 9:25. Mrs. Jackson was already running out the door, clad in her usual uniform of yoga pants and a spandex tank. Mrs. Jackson was a fitness instructor. At ten a.m. she led a Zumba class at the local YMCA. At eleven, it was water aerobics. Noon, spin. At one, she started over and was home by 4:30 to relieve me of kid duty.

  Since it was my last day, I had a fun filled day planned for the Jackson kids. First, we made a morning snack. Their mom fed them breakfast a couple of hours ago. I showed them how to make rainbow fruit kebabs. Of course, once they discovered what we were doing, the boys ended up stabbing the bits of fruit with the skewers, massacring them so badly it looked more like a rainbow battlefield than the cute snack I’d envisioned.

  Boys!

  After snacks, I loaded Michael into his wagon and helped James and Paul snap on their bike helmets. I pulled Michael while the other two rode their bikes to a little park nestled in the middle of our neighborhood. After about an hour of special op spy games with water guns, we loaded back up and went home to make lunch and enjoy the air conditioning. As much as I loved Indiana, there was nothing worse than a hot, humid summer day, which was why most of our outdoor activities included water.

  “Why is today your last day, Bly?” Paul asked around a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly.

  “Because, Paul, school starts in two weeks and I need to take a little break before getting ready for school.” I had explained this no less than six hundred thousand times this week.

  Paul scowled. “But I don’t want to go to Grandma’s until school starts.”

  I reached out to ruffle his hair. “Sorry, bud, it’s a tough break, going to hang out with grandma and eating cookies all day and watching Moana.”

  After lunch, I put Michael down for his nap and played games with the other two boys until it was time for Michael to get up and we had a snack. Finally, 4:30 rolled around and all the boys and the house were cleaned up and ready for their mom. I gave kisses and hugs and promises to stop by and visit for a play date during the school year. I even teared up a bit when Mrs. Jackson hugged me and gave me a hundred-dollar tip!

  “Thanks, Blythe. The boys have had such a fun summer!”

  I waved to them as I rode my bike away and even though I’d enjoyed my babysitting job, I felt a huge relief that it was finally done and I would be able to spend the next two weeks doing absolutely NOTHING.

  As I pedaled my bike home from the Jackson’s for the last time that summer, I was tempted to detour to Lilly’s. Lilly lived about eight blocks from the Jackson’s on Aspen and as hot as it was in late July, it would have been worth the bike ride to celebrate being done. At the last minute, though, as I came to the crossroad of Birch and Aspen, I remembered the last thing my mother shouted as I rode away this morning. Ugh. No trip to Lilly’s. I’d have to settle for a covert text message while my parents socialized with my grandparents. Or maybe it would be my Aunt Jess and Uncle Brian.

  As I pedaled the last block before Pine Street, I pondered which of my family members had come to visit. Our house was situated on the corner and when I turned to head into the drive, I noticed a newer looking white car sitting in front of our house.

  Strange.

  Did Grandma and Grandpa get a new car? I didn’t remember my aunt and uncle having a white car, either. Jumping from my bike, I walked it to the side of the house and lowered the kickstand. Now that I’d earned enough money to cover the cost of my insurance for the school year, mom and dad said they’d take me to get my driver’s license. Hopefully, my days of two-wheeled transportation were numbered.

  Opting for the back door, I opened the gate separating the front yard from the back. I could smell Dad’s barbeque and laughter drifted from the patio. Curious, I walked confidently into the backyard, covered from head to toe in sweat, acrylic paint, and remnants from the fruit battlefield fully expecting to see mom and dad chatting with members of my extended family.

  Instead, I was met with the wide, laughing, blue eyes of Walker Thomas!

  Chapter Two

  Blythe

  Ohmigosh, ohmigosh, ohmigosh!

  What was Walker Thomas doing in my backyard?! And why, after not seeing him for three years, did I have to look like a homeless person?

  “Blythe! Look who’s come back! Mr. Thomas bought his share back from Mr. Lewis last month.” I yanked my gaze away from Walker to stare at my mom who was smiling so big I could see all her teeth. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she wrapped her arm around an equally smiley Mrs. Thomas.

  The Thomas’s were moving back? I quickly scanned the rest of the group in the backyard. My whole family was there as well as the Thomas’s. Walker. His parents, Roger and Becky. As well as his brothers, Pete and Leo. Sure enough, the gang was all there.

  “What?” I was still trying to process, my brain fuzzy from shock.

  “Ew, Blythe, you smell funny.” Joy brushed past me, pinching her nose between her thumb and forefinger as she practically shouted her distaste.

  “Joy!” I hissed, my already red cheeks flaming even brighter as I reached up to self-consciously smooth my fly-away hair. It was no use. Joy was right. I smelled terrible. And worse than that, I looked terrible.

  Breathing deeply to keep myself from strangling my sister, I snuck a quick glance at Walker. He was still watching me, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Golly, he was hot! He’d been cute three years ago at fourteen, but now? Sheesh, seventeen looked really, really good on him.

  Ugh. I glanced down at my paint streaked cut-offs and sighed. What did it matter, anyway? Invisible, remember? I’d been invisible to Walker all those years our fathers worked together, why would I think I’d be anything more than invisible now?

  “Blythe, it’s so good to see you again!” Becky moved to give me a hug.

  “Oh, my gosh, Becky, I’m totally gross from babysitting.” I held her to a side hug, unwilling to allow her any closer. “It’s good to see you, too. When did you guys get back?”

  Becky smiled. “We arrived last week, but we stayed with Roger’s parents up until last night.” Becky glanced at my mom, her smile turning into an excited grin.

  “Blythe, Becky and Roger bought the Hansen’s house. Isn’t that exciting?” Apparently, it was, because my mom and Becky were about to freaking burst.

  The Hansen’s house? I wanted to drop my head in my hands and cry. The Thomas’s had moved into the house directly behind ours! We practically shared backyards, the only thing separating our property from the Hansen’s, or well, the Thomas’s, was a low hedge of dense bushes. My very own bedroom window stared directly into the back of their house.

  I glanced between my mom and Becky, finally noticing their expectant expressions. I forced what I hoped looked like an enthusiastic smile to my face. “Wow, that is exciting.”

  “Is that Blythe?” Roger, Walker’s dad, boomed from hi
s position beside my dad at the grill.

  I turned toward him and offered a weak smile. I really liked Roger. When they lived here before, Roger and Becky were as close to us as our aunts and uncles.

  “Woo-ee, aren’t you a doll,” Roger teased with a wink as he started toward me, his arm extended. I met him halfway and allowed another side hug.

  “How are you doing, Roger,” I asked, genuinely glad to see him again. He smelled familiar, like cigars and spicy cologne.

  “Better now that we’re back home with our family. Ain’t that right, Beck?” Roger called out to his wife, who was chatting animatedly with my mom. Becky glanced over and winked.

  “Hey, Dad.” I moved over to stand by my dad as he flipped burgers on the grill.

  “How was the last day, sweetie?” Dad asked softly, nudging me with his elbow. Everyone else had fallen into their own conversations. Roger, teasing my sisters while Walker and his brothers kicked around a soccer ball at the back of the yard.

  Sighing, I folded my arms across my stomach, still feeling incredibly self-conscious. “Good. I’m glad it’s over. It was fine, but, yeah, I’m glad I’m done.”

  Dad nodded. “I get that. You’ve worked hard all summer, you deserve a little break before school starts.”

  I pulled at my cami, which clung to my sticky skin. “Dad, I’m going to go take a shower real quick, okay.”

  Dad smiled and gave me a quick wink before glancing over where Walker kicked the soccer ball away from his eleven-year-old brother, Pete. “You do that.”

  I rolled my eyes and started for the back door of the house.

  “Don’t take too long, Blythe. The burgers will be done in a few minutes.” Dad called out, effectively drawing everyone’s attention to my escape.

  Thanks, Dad.

  I just waved over my shoulder and made a break for it, beyond anxious to get cleaned up and wishing with all my heart I’d come in the front door instead of heading straight to the backyard upon returning home. I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text.