Page 9 of Redemption

His head snaps up. “What? No.”

Great, now he’s staring at my boobs. They’re probably not big enough for him—I’m only in an A-cup. I know they’ll probably get bigger, but my friend, Nicky, is our age, and she’s already wearing a C-cup. I bet he likes her boobs.

“Do you think I’m ugly?” I press. “Do I smell bad? Why don’t you want to kiss me, Beckett?”

“It’s none of those things!” he shouts. “I like you, okay? Are you happy now?”

“Well, of course, you like me. I’m your best friend.”

“No, Pres,” he groans. “I mean, I like you, like you.”

Oh.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He gulps.

I smile. “Well, then we should definitely kiss.”

His jaw drops. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m bein’ serious.” I step into him and pull off his hat, tossing it to the side. Beckett’s eyes widen as I tug on his flannel shirt, so he has to bend over a bit. “Now kiss me, you idiot.”

I wet my lips when he stares at them.

“Pres, I don’t k—”

Beck doesn’t get to finish what he was saying because I press my mouth against his. He’s frozen for just a moment, but then his lips soften, and he starts kissing me back. I’m a little startled when his tongue goes inside my mouth—it feels kind of weird—but not gross, I don’t think. I mirror his movements, and before I know it, we’re full-on French kissing.

Holy crap! Beck Armstrong’s tongue is in my mouth!

I can’t help it; I start to giggle, which causes him to pull away.

“Am I doin’ it wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nuh-uh. Did it seem weird to you?”

He thinks about it for a second. “Not even a little. You?”

“Nope. So, do you wanna be my boyfriend then? Because I want to do that a lot more, and we should probably be boyfriend, girlfriend if we’re gonna be kissin’ all the time.”

Beck’s eyes bulge. “Do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

“Of course I do.” I give him a duh look. Sheesh, boys are really stupid sometimes.

He nervously rubs the back of his neck. “We have an hour before dinner’s ready. Do you wanna make out some more?”

I give him the biggest smile I can manage. “Okay!

Chapter Six

Presley

“This the right place?”

I glance up at the old farmhouse I spent the first half of my life in. “Yes, it is. Thank you again for taking me all this way.”

I take out enough money for the meter, plus a generous tip. This poor guy is going to have a three-hour drive back, and it’s already after ten.

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