When I stepped on the stage for the first time, all I could see was blinding light. Everyone in the audience disappeared. It was amazing. I felt free.
If it wasn’t for drama, I never would have worked out how to be cool. I created this persona with the help of John Travolta’s movies and just ran with it. I acted cool and chilled out, even though beneath the surface, I was a bundle of nerves.
Then I met Holly; this vibrant, bubbly blonde who laughs heartily at toilet jokes and chows down a hamburger without commenting on her waistline. She has confidence seeping out of her pores.
She is a star that lights up my whole life.
I had a crush on her throughout high school, and the summer before we started college I almost asked her out. Almost.
Michelle’s experiment… Does she think we’d kiss and then put everything aside and get together?
Life isn’t that simple.
But the taste of her berry lip gloss is still on my tongue and I’m pretty sure I can still feel the press of her pouty lips against mine.
She's looking at me now with a deep frown, and there's a little line forming between her brows. She looks at me like that when I'm in trouble. Like the time I ate the last donut at Michelle’s party.
Right now I can’t work out what I’ve done wrong.
“Right,” I say, standing up with a splash. “I’ll set everything up.”
I go to my phone, but Holly grabs my arm and points to her sopping wet hair and the trails of mascara running down her face. “I can’t do this looking like a drowned rat.”
She doesn’t look like a drowned rat. Not with her button nose and pinchable cheeks. Rats have pointy features.
Still, she’s right. I force a laugh.
“Here, let me help you.” I thrust my hand in the water and shower her face.
“Are you kidding me right now?” Holly gargles, rubbing her eyes. She pulls her hands away from her face and blinks at me.
“Hey, you haven’t got black stuff on your cheeks anymore,” I point out. Holly huffs and rubs off the last of the smudged make up around her eyes. Seeing her all disgruntled and dripping wet grips my heart. I edge closer, licking my lips, and I can’t help looking at hers. I’m jealous of the water droplets clinging to her bottom lip, making it glisten like something out of a cartoon.
Her big eyes go wide as I settle next to her.
“What are you doing?” she blurts. My jaw clenches at her response, but she’s so adorable, it pulls me in like a moth to the flame.
There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t kiss Holly, and yet right now I can’t think of a single one. Instead, I cup the back of her neck and make the move.
She starts, her lips rigid, but then she melts like butter underneath my feathery touch. I brush my lips over hers, closing my eyes to magnify the sensations. She drapes her hands over my shoulders and kisses me back.
Kissing Holly lights up a fire inside of me. She’s like an addiction. The more I taste, the more I want. There will never be a time when it feels natural to stop. I lift her up and pull her onto my lap, then I wrap my arms around her body and squeeze her like she’s my very own teddy bear. I want to snuggle her. Kiss her. Swing her around in my arms and squeeze every part of her to check she’s real and this isn’t a dream.
She tears her mouth from mine and her face is flaming red.
“I should get changed. Meet me in the living room?”
Then she leaps out of the tub like a cat, but not fast enough for me to miss the fuzzy patch on the bathing suit over her butt. She wraps herself in the old giraffe towel and practically gallops along the path back to the house.
Bewildered by her response, I drag a hand through my hair and grin like a fool.
If I wasn’t sure about my real feelings before, they’ve become inexplicably clear now. I don’t just like Holly. I crave her in a way I never thought possible.
Holly
It takes thirty minutes in a hot shower for my breathing to return to normal. I finally stumble out, my skin red and blotchy and ears ringing as I try to process what happened in the hot tub.
Cameron came onto me. He kissed me.
The heat of his stare burns in my memory and every atom in my body is having a party. I dry off my hair, keeping my eyes closed and replaying every second in my head.
He knew the camera hadn’t been set up. So what he did wasn’t an act. Unless he was just warming up for the real thing?
Cameron likes method acting. But surely his racing pulse thumping against my forearms couldn't have been fake. And how can he make his baby blues so dark with desire? Not to mention the way he held me like I was the most precious thing in the world.
I squeal with excitement, hoping the screeching hairdryer drowns out the sound.
Cameron James kissed me.
And we have to do it again at least once––for the dare.
This day just might be the best day of my life.
As if she picked up on my excitement via radio frequency or something, Katia calls me.
“How’s it going?” she asks. I know she's trying to sound nonchalant, but her words come out too fast to fool me.
“It’s been… um,” I say, struggling to string a line of words together.
“Have you recorded the kiss, yet?” Katia asks, pressing for more details. I hum to myself.
