Page 25 of Kissing for Keeps
Brad quickly explains the rules, which state that, if a girl spins and the bottle lands on another girl, theactualperson she kisses will be the nearest guy.
Jack and I share a look. He makes a face that saysmakes perfect sense, and I roll my eyes. Brad is one of three guys in this circle, so his odds are pretty dang good.
Brad spins the bottle first, and it lands on a girl with long, red hair in barrel curls. She’s contoured the heck out of her face, but beneath it, I peep the shadow of a few freckles. Both she and Brad crawl on their knees to the middle of the circle and kiss over the bottle altar.
It lasts a lot longer than is strictly necessary, and Giggly Girl looks away. Seems like Jack was wrong about her falling into the Girls Gone Wild category. She’salreadypossessive of Brad.
Brad’s rules dictate that the person to the redhead’s left spins the bottle next, so a brunette steps up to the plate and gives it a whirl, her eyes pinned on Jack.
Whoa.What was that? The zing I just felt?
But I know what it is. Giggly Girl’s vibes must be contagious.
My extensions are starting to pull uncomfortably on my scalp, but I resist the urge to mess with them. Instead, I’ll just fantasize about how amazing it will feel to take them out later.
The brunette must have had some practice with spinning bottles because it lands on the girl just left of Jack.
Bullseye Brunette’s thick lashes point to Jack. “Guess that means you,” she says like she’s not a physics expert who calculated the precise amount of force needed to rotate the bottle 540 degrees and make it land shy of him.
Jack’s eyes flit to me for a fraction of a second, then back to her. “Guess so.”
The two of them crawl toward the center, and it strikes me how stupid they look. What are they, gorillas? Why not just stand up like normal humans?
They meet in the middle, and good gracious! She uses those lashes like a weapon of war. Fluttering Jack into submission is the goal. They go in for the kiss, and the recently spawned jealousy monster claws at me from the inside. Their obligatory kiss is shorter than Brad’s, which this chick clearly regrets, since she lingers for a second after Jack pulls away.
A few more bottle spins happen, and Brad gets lucky twice while the guy to my right is called up once. That means it’s my turn next.
I try not to look at Jack, but it’s useless. I can’t resist a quick glance. The subtle smile is gone, and his eyes are telling me,Spin it here.
Can you faint while sitting down? It feels like you can.
I pull my gaze away because, unlike Bullseye Brunette, I am not a spinning pro. Also because I’m just here to have fun and make friends. I’m not trying to become one of theSay Yes to the Dressgirls, regardless of what my internal monster demands.
I give the bottle a casual, definitely-not-calculated-to-land-on-Jack whirl, and it rotates a few times, then slows down—unlike my heart rate—until it finally lands squarely on—
“Perfect spin!” Brad’s gaze tells me he thinks I’m a sly fox who planned this. His mouth stretches into a grin, and he puts out his hands. “Bring it in, girl.”
I suppress my gag reflex and embrace my inner primate, propelling myself forward with my knuckles and knees. Gorillas have fun, right? That’s all I’m here for. Good, old-fashioned freshman fun.
Just before Brad comes in for his reward, my eyes snag on Jack, curious whether I’m the only one with an overactive jealousy beast.
But he’s looking at his phone. That’s a hard “no” if I’ve ever seen one.
I refocus myself on the gorilla in front of me. Brad’s and my lips meet, and I try to walk the line between forming mine into something politely soft and this-is-only-for-the-gamefirm. I must have erred on the side of the latter since Brad looks mildly disappointed when I pull apart right away.
I get to watch two more girls kiss Jack before the game finally breaks up.
Yay.
I still haven’t gotten a text from Madi, but I’m feeling more interested in hearing about her photography club meetup than I am in playing the next game Brad suggests: truth or dare.
Bullseye Brunette has hunted Jack down for a conversation—in hopes of it leading to more, based on the fluttering of her lashes—so I cut my losses and leave. I don’t bother saying bye to anyone because, let’s be honest, none of them really care that I’m leaving, which I can’t blame them for. I’m one less woman to compete with.
I haven’t even reached the end of the sidewalk when I start unclipping my hair extensions, which are itching my scalp like red ants. I know they say beauty is pain, but I say beauty can stuff it.
Overall, the night was…fine? I met a few people and kissed a guy I never wanted to kiss. You win some, you lose some.
“Hey!”
