After school that day, I found myself sprawled across McCartney’s enormously oversized, round bed. We’d gone back to her house to hang out and check on the status of the auction. The three of us spent a lot of our free time at McCartney’s place, mostly because her family was seriously loaded. “The Manor” as Phin and I had dubbed it the first time we’d seen it, had six bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a living room, a den, a huge kitchen, and a pool and hot tub in the back yard.
“Is this a new comforter?” I asked, pretending to make snow angels on her bed.
McCartney looked up from her laptop and nodded. “Yeah. I was sick of the old one.”
“Didn’t you just get that ‘old one,’ like, a month ago?” Phin asked, pushing me aside and then plopping down beside me.
“Yeah. But the polka dots just started to get…old,” McCartney answered. “And don’t even start lecturing me about my shopping habits.”
Phin held up his arms in surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. Then he leaned over to me and whispered, “I couldn’t handle it if she banned me from The Manor. The lack of pool access would definitely suck.”
I giggled and then abruptly stopped when I caught McCartney’s glare. Clearing my throat, I thought it best to change the subject.
“So, you won’t believe what happened when Principal Howard called me to his office today,” I said, quickly.
“Oh, yeah!” McCartney exclaimed, her annoyance disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. “What was that about, anyway?”
“Little Miss Perfect was called down to the principals office?” Phin asked, faking a horrified look. He tisked at me with his pointer finger and mouthed, “naughty, naughty,” and only narrowly escaped being smacked in the side of the head with McCartney’s pillow.
“Shut it, Phin. Besides, it was partly your fault I was down there anyway,” I said, crossing my arms in my best you’re-on-my-list way.
“How is it my fault?” he asked.
“Well, Captain Obvious, Principal Howard received the genius e-mail you two sent out to the entire school, and thought it would be a good idea to lecture me about my safety and what is, and is not, proper for a young lady like me to be doing.”
“He did not!” McCartney said, her mouth hanging open.
“He most certainly did,” I answered. “Then he made the mistake of calling my mom to see what she thought of the whole thing. And, well, you know how my mom is. By the end of the phone call, she had him believing that it was a great idea. Mostly, because she promised that any money I made on the kiss would go toward making repairs to the gym.”
“Way to go, Mrs. Sawyer,” Phin said, shaking his head in awe.
“Speaking of kisses and money,” McCartney said, typing fast and furious on the keys of her laptop. “Let’s take a look-see at how those lips are selling.”
“There better be at least one bid, or I’m going to end it right here and now,” I said in my best drama queen voice and fell back into the soft pillows on McCartney’s bed. “Seriously though guys, these lips were made for kissing and I can’t finish my freshman year without putting them to good use.”
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Ki$$ & $ellTeen Fiction
Arielle Sawyer is freaking out because she’s the last person in her class to be kissed. Frustrated by her kissably-challenged lifestyle, Arielle allows herself to be talked into selling her first kiss to the highest bidder—on eBay. The media soon ca...