So completely stunned by the force of that smile, Sam found himself helpless to do anything but watch as she quickly closed the gap between them. Her hands reached up to grasp his chin, and he bent down to her, not really knowing why he did it. It was like gravity, so natural that the compulsion was inescapable. Her heels helped.When she kissed him, every nerve ending in his body exploded into his awareness. No girl had ever kissed him like that. Hell, no girl had ever kissed any guy like that, at least not that Sam had heard.
His jaw was clenched. His breathing became labored, like he was carrying something heavy. She watched the muscles in his throat working, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, hard.Victory.At that moment, she knew he wouldn’t try to stop her. She stepped forward, raised herself up on her tiptoes, and kissed him. Softly. Then she pulled back, challenge unspoken.Come on, Sam. Fight for me.
I know what you're thinking. ‘How the hell does this broke ass piece of trailer trash know words like caveat,’ right? Well guess what? I've read every single book on the New York Times list of 'Top 100 Literary Classics,' not to mention every Jane Austen, Sylvia Plath or Bronte sisters’ book ever written. And fuck you very much for judging me, by the way.
Around eighth grade Margot started getting really sensitive about her weight, even though she wasn’t remotely fat—just a little round-faced. So Margot did what any normal fourteen-year-old girl would do. She started puking on purpose, every day after fifth period. Of course now, she does more than puke. But we don’t talk about that. Because real friends don’t judge each other for what they do to survive in hell.
God damn, I wish I could fast-forward time and be old and wrinkly. How awesome would that be? No more worrying about getting ogled by douche bags like Trent Gibson, or getting all hormonal and bothered against my will over hotties like Grant Blue, who wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole.
See, the thing is, I had a little misunderstanding with Trent Gibson in Pre-Calculus earlier. I dropped my textbook on his face—accidentally, while we were discussing some…equations—and he thought I was trying to brain him. So of course, he narked to Shoemaker, and apparently accidents are grounds for disciplinary action these days.
When Grant Blue reaches me, he bends his head down close enough that I can smell the soap and promise on his skin. Clean living and popularity—It’s quite the aftershave, let me tell you. If I’m being honest, the fact that he even has to bend to talk to me is making me want to swoon a little. ...But just a little.