Authors: Amelia Whitmore
"It was really great to meet you."
"You too Emily," he said before following me off the plane. Outside of the terminal, Ethan was waiting for me and I took one fleeting look at Aiden before he walked away and into the unknown.
"Why did you let him walk away?" Ethan asked me, like I was crazy or something.
"Because I've only known him for a few hours."
"Like that matters. I've had sex with women I've known for less time and you couldn't even ask him for his number." Ethan tasked at me.
"Shut up you horn dog." I punched him playfully in the arm. “Let’s go find our luggage.”
Just One Kiss
Chapter One
Family, Carnivals, and Best Friends
My bedroom has always been something of a sanctuary to me. It’s where I go to escape from the real world. Where I can swim in my own thoughts, listen to music, do my homework, read . . . anything really. It’s decorated perfectly for my tastes too. Which is good considering that I started redecorating three years ago, when I turned fifteen. I began going to swap meets, antique shops, yard sales, Goodwill, and other secondhand stores. My family is only middle class, so, although we aren’t too tight for money, redecorating a room would be pushing it.
After years of hard work, I’ve finally turned a space that was once filled with pink and butterflies into a bedroom any eighteen-year-old would be proud to call her own. The walls are a dusty, pale gray-blue. The floor is the same white wood it’s always been. A shaggy rug that matches the walls lies by my bed. The white, cushioned headboard is tall enough for me to lean against it comfortably and my sheets are white with a green quilt on top. A purple crocheted blanket that Mom made for me while she was pregnant goes over the quilt. When I get cold, there’s a white and gray patterned duvet that is folded at the end of my bed until I kick it to the ground at night. Beside my bed, there’s a green nightstand that matches my quilt, and on it sit flowers I replace every week, a candle, and a clock. A lamp hangs down over the nightstand like a chandelier. My room is simple but pretty. I love it. Another thing I absolutely adore about my room is the slanted ceiling. The wall across from my bed, where my dresser and desk rest, goes up about three-fifths of the way before tilting inward. It makes my rather spacious and empty room look cozy.
I’m lying on my stomach, reading a book for English class and listening to my iPod, when I feel somebody tap my foot. I jump and scream, turning to see who just tried to scare me to death. It’s my older sister, Lena. She’s nineteen and goes to a local art college. Even though it irritates me, I can’t even be mad at her when she starts laughing hysterically. I know how ridiculous I just made myself look, but I’ve never been good at handling surprises.
I sigh impatiently when she doesn’t stop laughing. “Did you come here for a reason, or were you just trying to scare me?” I ask, pulling out my headphones.
Once she can breathe properly again, Lena says, “Mom and Dad want us in the living room. I think it’s time for the carnival again.” I nod and follow her downstairs.
Mom works at an elementary school teaching third grade. Every autumn they have a Fall Fun Fest and Mom always volunteers us kids to help. We’re usually happy to, until Mom gets anxious under the pressure, goes crazy, and acts like the carnival will fail if any of us are even a minute late. But eventually she cools off and realizes how insane she is.
“Hey, guys.” I say, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch from my brother, Matthew. He’s fifteen, almost sixteen, and thinks he’s way too cool to have me as a sister. He’s probably right, but I don’t care that much.
“Hey, Anna.” Matt murmurs, concentrating on the TV. There’s some sports event on. Football, I think, but I’m not sure if it’s college or professional. Does actual football even start in October? I wasn’t built to be athletic, so I wouldn’t know.
Mom walks into the room with a few sheets of paper and hands them to us. They’re consent forms, basically telling the school that if we get injured, we won’t file a lawsuit against them. Everyone that works the carnival has to sign one.
“Okay, guys. The carnival is next weekend so I need to know what booths you’re planning to work on.”
“Well, Smith and I really liked working the ring toss last year,” Lena says. Her boyfriend, Smith, helped her last year. The stand has about two hundred two-liter bottles of soda laid out on the floor, and children use swimming rings to try to catch a bottle around the nozzle. If they hook one, they get to take it. The game is a big hit for little kids.
“Ro and I can take the bottle toss,” I offer. My best friend, Aurora, has no idea that I’m signing her up to help with the carnival, but she probably won’t mind. The bottle toss is a bunch of tin cans or glass milk bottles, stacked in a pyramid, and kids throw balls at it. They get three tries to get all ten bottles or cans down.
Mom’s been nodding along with us, making notes. At the mention of Ro, Mom grins a bit and hands me an extra consent form. Mom is all about self-expression and loves Ro’s outgoing personality and flaming purple hair. She says Aurora’s got charisma. I’m not sure my mom’s ever been more proud than when she found out I’d made a friend like Ro.
Mom’s been teaching at the elementary school since I was little. She absolutely adores children. When she sees babies or toddlers, she instantly devolves into a jumble of baby talk and silly faces.
Dad is Mr. Fix-it. Our cars never get taken to a repair shop because he can do it all himself. He seems rough on the outside, but as soon as you get close to him, you know that he’d do anything for you. Matt and Lena tell me I’m his favorite, but I’m not. We just communicate better than the others.
Like I said earlier, Lena goes to a local art school. She’s always been in love with photography. I wish I was half as good at anything as she is at taking pictures. Lena met Smith in her junior year of high school and they’re coming up on their second anniversary. They make such a beautiful couple. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous. Lena’s always had everything I wanted: beauty, friends, and talent. Maybe it’s sibling rivalry, but I feel like I never compare to her.
Matt is your typical little brother. He can be totally obnoxious and eating at my last nerve one moment, and then my sweet best friend the next. He doesn’t realize his full potential. He could do so much more with his life, but he’s fifteen and convinced he knows better.
Last year, some things happened at school. Suffice it to say, by the end of it, I was lonelier than I’d ever been before. That’s when I met Ro. She completely turned my life upside down and, for the most part, I don’t care what others think now.
“Do I have to help?” Matt asks, still staring at the TV.
“Yes, Matty,” Mom replies in her “I’m not arguing about this” voice.
“Fine, just sign me up for something easy.” He pauses for only a moment. “And that doesn’t mean watching over the kids playing Duck, Duck, Gray Duck like last year.” We all laugh, remembering how Matt whined for days after getting that station at last year’s Fall Fest.
Mom stands up, walks to the kitchen, and says, “All right, well I guess we’re done here. Before any of you go back upstairs, I want chores finished.”
We all groan but we know better than to argue.
***
“Hey, Ro,” I say, walking up to the purple-haired girl I call my best friend.
“Hello, Anna,” she says, laughing at me.
“So, guess what you’re doing this weekend?”
She gives me a look. “Going to work and then going home to chill on the couch?”
“Nope! You’re helping me out at my mom’s Fall Fest!” I proclaim, trying to make it sound way more fun than it really is.
“No, I am not.” She narrows her eyes at me.
I bite my lip. “I may have already signed you up.”
“Anna!” she practically yells. “Why would you sign me up for something like that?”
“’Cause I wanted to do it with you!”
She gets a salacious smile on her face. “Everybody does.”
I burst out laughing when she wiggles her eyebrows at a guy walking past us.
“I think that kid just pissed his pants,” I say, watching him do a running walk to get away from us.
“Eh, what can I say? Sometimes the excitement gets to be too much for the young ones.”
She shrugs modestly as she loads more books into her backpack.
I purposely waited until now, at the end of the day on Friday, to tell her about this weekend, but I’d spent the week making sure she wouldn’t be busy. I’m just sneaky like that. I knew that if I told her about it before now, she’d make plans to get out of it.
“Anyway, please help out. It’s really not that bad and we got a pretty easy booth,” I say, pouting a little.
Her nose wrinkles and a sigh escapes her lips before she nods. “Fine. I’ll go, but I’m not looking forward to it.” I squeal and throw my arms around her shoulders. “You owe me cookies or something,” she adds.
I laugh and nod before backing up and heading down the hallway. “I will see you tomorrow morning,” I call out.
“Yeah, yeah. Just go!” she yells back, laughing.
Amelia Whitmore graduated as a librarian and has worked for a few years in one of the biggest libraries of her city, but her long lasting dream has always been to publish the stories she has been writing ever since she understood the meaning of love and romance. At the age of 26 years old, she finally managed to accomplish her dream.