Rejected Kiss (Sweet N' Sour Kisses

  Praise for Rejected Kiss

  (Sweet N’ Sour Kisses, Episode 3)

  “Great teen fiction. It was very well written and the author portrayed the feelings of a teenage girl perfectly. The story line was very unique compared to other Teen Fiction stories. I was pining for more." -Teen Literati

  “As addictive as your favorite TV show.” -EJ Baker, reviewer

  “Can't wait for the next books in the series to come out.”-Sherry Gammon, reviewer

  “This book is such a fun read.”-melbelle, reviewer

  “Great characters and very fun story line.”-Aimiez, reviewer

  “Cindy M Hogan really knows how to grab your attention right away and keep it! She takes you on an amazing adventure and keeps you guessing. I love books that make you feel like you are right there with the protagonist. Definitely would recommend to a friend! -Katie Biddle, reviewer

  “I loved it! This short story was a breath of fresh air. The voice of the main character was full of personality. She broke the mold of typical teenage heroines which I really appreciated. Brooklyn also reminded me a lot of myself in high school, which made the story fun and relatable.” –Lindsey, reviewer

  “I really enjoyed this book. It grabbed my attention right away and kept me interested. I couldn't put it down until I was done. I would definitely recommend this book to a friend.” –Pamela, reviewer

  “I love Cindy Hogan! She is able to get right into the minds and hearts of teenagers. I loved the feel of this book, you feel like you're right there with Brooklyn as she has the adventure of her 16th birthday and subsequent first date. Can't wait to read more of her adventures!” -MyBookADay Blog

  “It had me hanging on to every word and wishing it never ended.”

  -Snowkissedu, reviewer

  “This was a fabulous book, Cindy can sure grab your attention fast and keep it through the entire book, did not want to set my Kindle down. It felt as if you were sitting next to Brooklyn the entire time. I can't wait until the next episode comes out. :) 5 out of 5 stars.” –Jessy B., reviewer

  “A must read. This episode of 'Confessions' had me glued to my couch reading non stop. Basically "stay out of my way"! –Howell, reviewer

  Also by Cindy M. Hogan

  Audio, Print, and eBook

  Watched Trilogy

  Watched

  Protected

  Created

  Adrenaline Rush

  Hotwire

  Gravediggers

  Sweet N’ Sour Kisses*

  *Formerly called Confessions of a 16-Year-Old Virgin Lips

  First Kiss

  Stolen Kiss

  Rebound Kiss

  Rejected Kiss

  Dream Kiss

  See all Cindy’s books here

  Rejected Kiss (Sweet N’ Sour Kisses, episode 3)

  Copyright ©2013 by Cindy M. Hogan

  First Edition

  Cover design by Novak Illustrations

  Cover photography by Still Memories by Tomi

  Edited by Charity West

  O’neal Publishing

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, O’neal Publishing. This is a work of fiction. Characters and events in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously.

  Visit her at cindymhogan.com

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  Find out when new releases come out before anyone else here

  Rejected Kiss

  Did you know prom is short for promenade? Seriously, the things you can learn-thanks, Wikipedia. Yeah, apparently, the origins of the ritual date back to the 1930s. It was considered the moment in time when a child became an adult: the official doorway into adulthood.

  It morphed into the culminating senior-only event where children were formally attired to look maximally grown up to not only highlight successful parenting, but also mark the end of high school and welcome the child into adulthood.

  That's the official explanation, anyway, but I have my own definition of prom: pressure central.

  Because of course it wasn't enough to have seniors have to endure the affair, so slowly but surely schools opened senior prom to students of all ages. Now, students could fret and worry over prom for three years straight. As it lost its original meaning, it morphed into a night of extreme anxiety that served no real purpose. That's when it all went wrong.

  What is prom in a nutshell? One night. One night to have the perfect date, the perfect means of transportation, the perfect outfit, the perfect meal, and the perfect time.

  Why is it such a big deal? Perhaps because it's not just one night. In truth, it's about a one-month process to get to the date, and then it's talked about for another month after that. It's a process that can be the most stressful of a student's high school career. As I see it, there are three stages of prom terror.

  The first stage is all about asking and waiting. The question for a girl is, “Will I be asked?” If you're a guy, the question is, “Who should I ask?”

  For the boy it's all about getting the right girl at the right time. The girl has to be perfect, and since perfect girls tend to be rare, the boy has to be fast in order to beat out any other guy and his invitation. It's tricky, because the guy wants the girl to think he's the perfect date, too. So, even after he asks, he has to worry about being rejected. Will she wait to answer to see if she'll get a better offer?

  For most girls it's all about getting asked by anything with two legs and a deep voice. Every girl just wants to be at prom. No one wants to be the only one not asked. Sure, it would be great for it to be her dream guy, but she'll take anyone daring enough to extend the invitation. There are the few who can afford to be picky, but in reality, those girls are as rare as the perfect girl.

  Bottom line? The waiting sucks for both girls and boys.

  The second stage is filled with planning and preparation. The boy wants the coolest tux despite the girly color of the cummerbund. The girl wants to find the absolute most spectacular dress. And then there are the shoes, the accessories, and the hairdo. The boy has the short stick on this one, though. He has to come up with the best day date, and the best wheels to get his perfect girl to the perfect restaurant and dance. He also has to have the best after-date activity planned.

  This stage is what I affectionately call the money stage. Watch it disappear.

  The third stage is the execution stage, where regular ol' teenagers act like movie stars. This is where it can go all wrong or all right depending on if you are looking for a love connection or a friend connection and what the desire of both parties is. Expectation is half the battle. The boy better tell the girl she looks beautiful, regardless, and he better treat her like a princess.

  It's the event, remember? Fun is mandatory. It's supposed to be the best day of your life, and you'd sooner die than let anyone think it isn't.

  The fact is. Prom is one night. One night that can cause the greatest pain or the greatest joy in a girl's life.

  Why do we give prom the power we do? That's simple.

  It's prom.

  Now, add months of being an outcast at your high school, and prom becomes not only the most anticipated, most dreaded event of the year, but just about the ultimate recipe for rejection.

  Chapter 1

  Sitting on my living room floor, I carefully tied the last of twelve blue helium-filled balloons to a long string. Ali helped me put a bag over the balloon. Each one had a small bag wrapped around it to keep the string from getting tangled.

  “Finally!” Ali laughed and lay back on the carpet. “It would have bee
n easier just to let the balloons go free in their bedrooms, Brooke.”

  “Oh, but not as fun. It's going to look so cool to have this long line of balloons flying in the sky when they come outside,” I assured her.

  “You're right. It definitely has wow factor.” She sat up and brushed her long red locks over her shoulders.

  This was our first attempt at living up to the pact we'd made a few weeks earlier. We were going to all the dances, starting with the sweethearts dance-girls' choice, so it was the perfect opportunity. My mom had promised that if we put ourselves out there, we'd show boys that we were fun and they'd start asking us out. Well, we were putting that promise to the test and had designed a crazy-elaborate invitation to kick things off. So far, we were already having a great time, so point one for Mom.

  We giggled uncontrollably as we wrangled the unruly balloons and finally shoved all twelve of them into one huge bag. I secured it and carried it out to the van. Ali followed close behind me with her identical big bag of balloons. It took a little bit of maneuvering, but both fit inside the van. I jumped on her back, yelling, “Giddy up!” and she galloped back inside to grab the notes and candy bars that we would attach to the end of the string of balloons.

  Ali dumped me unceremoniously on the floor, and I snatched the keys from their hook. “Mom, we're ready,” I yelled.

  She came barreling down the hall, stopping only to grab her wallet out of the kitchen on the way. “Don't leave without me! I can't miss my daughter asking her first date to a dance.”

  I sighed and put my arm around her. “You know we wouldn't leave you. We need you. Remember, both Ali and I have to set up the balloons on the guys' porches and cut all the plastic bags off the balloons. You're going to park down the street and wait for us to ring the bell and run back to the van and jump in. Then you've got to hightail it out of there so we won't be seen.”

  “Got it. Before we go, let me see the notes you wrote.”

  Ali held the extra-large chocolate bar out for her to see. We'd covered the original wrapper with one we'd printed on the computer with our own message.

  I'd be flying high if you'd go to sweethearts with me.

  “That's cute, guys. And your names are in the balloons?”

  “Yep. Each balloon has a letter or a blank piece of paper in it. They'll have to pop the balloons, find the letters, and arrange them in the right order to figure out who is asking them.”

  “I hope they can spell.” My mom raised her eyebrows.

  We laughed as we walked out to the van. I smashed myself in the back seat with the balloons, and Ali sat shotgun. The balloons bounced around my head as I searched for the seatbelt. As soon as she heard two clicks, my mom revved the engine playfully and pulled out of the driveway, headed to the boys' houses.

  “So, these two boys are from swim team?” my mom asked, adjusting the rearview mirror.

  “Yep. Wes Sears and Peter Cordova. They're super funny.” I batted a balloon away from my face. Before the infamous Luke incident, I hadn't paid much attention to them-they weren't the flirty, rowdy boys that I was used to hanging out with. But this pact with Ali had made me branch out and look for guys myself rather than just reciprocating when guys paid attention to me. Not like any guys were doing that at the moment, anyway. But this dance was supposed to change all that.

  “They're always cracking jokes and never take themselves seriously. They better be just as fun on a date as they are on normal days.” Ali turned up the music.

  Neither Ali nor I had any romantic feelings for these boys and, to our knowledge, they didn't like either one of us. The goal was to have fun, nothing else.

  They lived only a few blocks from each other, which made it convenient. We stopped at Peter's house first-he was Ali's intended date-and carried the bundle up his steps and cut the big bag. The balloons flew up into the air, unsecured. I grabbed wildly for the string and caught the third to last balloon instead. I gasped, my heart racing.

  We glanced at each other and shook our heads, silently thanking the stars above that we hadn't lost the balloons. We looked at the front door. I'm sure she was thinking the same thing I was. We needed to hurry. She quickly tied the candy bar to the end of the string and taped it in place. I took the bags off the three balloons that I still had in my possession and whispered, “Should I pull the rest of the balloons in and take the plastic off each one?”

  She shook her head. “It's okay. I'm afraid they're going to hear, and then they'll catch us.” As she whispered, one balloon hit a window on the front of the house with a surprisingly loud thwack. We heard footsteps coming toward the door. We glanced at the door and took off for the van, stifling giggles. We threw ourselves inside and slid the door shut, letting our laughter fill the space.

  “What? What!” my mom asked. “What happened?”

  “Drive, Mom,” I said through sputters of laughter. “Drive!”

  Neither Ali nor I could wait for her to turn the corner. We popped up and peeked to see if anyone had gone out onto the porch. A little girl and what looked like a dad were out there bent over the candy bar. We fell to the floor laughing again.

  Nothing half as interesting happened at Wes's house. We even had enough time to ring the doorbell and run to the van before he came out. After reading the words on the candy bar, he turned and looked our direction. We ducked low in the van and laughed as my mom drove away.

  We hoped we wouldn't have to wait long for their answers.

  That night the doorbell rang, and I opened the door to find a bag filled with puffy pink cotton candy and a card that read, As long as we fly to the clouds, the answer is yes.

  So far, the pact was turning out to be all right. I was headed to my first school dance ever.

  Two weeks later, after games at Ali's house and an awesome formal dinner at my house, we were in the school gym, shaking our booties to the YMCA song. That was one song no one sat out. We'd added three other couples to our group, making a total of ten. The perfect number. We made a big circle and yelled out the song as we made the letters with our arms. Ali and Peter were across the circle from Wes and me. It was fun to see Ali get all into the dance. She tended to be more of a graceful, ballerina type dancer-but not tonight.

  I was so happy Ali and I had decided on short dresses. The other three girls in our group wore princess-style gowns and were having a hard time moving around and dancing. Ali's black, formfitting dress hugged her body, allowing her to dance to her heart's content. I had accented the white bodice and red chiffon skirt of mine with a black tie-back and shrug. The light and airy feel of the dress made dancing easy and gave me a carefree feeling. The silliness came naturally.

  When Wes had showed up at my house in a black suit and red tie, I'd known we'd look awesome together. In fact, only Ali's date had shown up with a non-red tie. It was white with grey crisscrosses.

  When certain songs played, we made sure to form a circle and everyone took turns doing some crazy dance moves in the center. I'd always loved the movie Hitch, and both Ali and I had memorized tons of fun dance moves because of it.

  Wes and I went out together, and when I started to do the Q-tip and throw it away, he didn't run and hide-he copied me and hammed it up, spinning around while he did it. Ali and Peter did the Pac-Man with precision. Everyone was laughing like maniacs, and my stomach was starting to ache. It'd been a long time since I'd laughed like that. More couples came to join us. The DJ caught on to our game and played several more songs that lent themselves to it. By the end of the third song, our circle had tripled in diameter, and several couples could be in the center at the same time without interfering with each other.

  In the middle of a song, Ali whispered something in Peter's ear, and the two of them headed off the dance floor.

  “What's up, Ali?” I asked, my date and I following them.

  “I've got to take these shoes off. My feet are killing me.” That's when I noticed she was limping. Her gemmed high heels looked awesome, but at what pr
ice?

  I looked down at my black Converse and smiled. Wes must've noticed, because he said, “Good move,” and tapped my shoe with his.

  “Hey,” I called out to her. “Don't take those off yet, we've got to get pictures.”

  With those words, the four of us turned toward the picture line, which, surprisingly enough, was short. We got in line while Wes walked out on the dance floor and gathered the other three couples in our group and brought them to join us.

  Everyone yelled out ideas for posing for the picture, and it was hard to tell who was talking.

  “I think the girls should bow down in front of us like they're worshipping us.”

  “Very funny. We'll pretend we're running from you, and you're chasing us.”

  “We could all jump into the guys' arms, and you could be holding us because we're the most important ones here.”

  “Check out this idea. Some of you duke it out while others are looking our way like you're all deciding who you want to go for,” Ali suggested. “We girls will all be together on the other side of the room looking over our shoulders at you. And some of us can cover our mouths like we're worried you might hurt each other.”

  Everyone seemed to like that idea, so with the huge red heart behind us and the serene white bench in front of the heart backdrop, we set up a fake fight with the boys on one side of the bench and a bunch of shocked and panicked girls on the other.

  After the photographer took the picture, we all huddled around his computer screen to see how it had turned out. The shock on the girls' faces was real, and the guys looked like they were truly going to duke it out.