The Kiss Bet

Chapter 1

ONE

Sara

Tonight is the perfect time to begin romanticizing my life.

Why haven’t I thought of this sooner? The moon hangs bright and whimsical in the sky, surrounded by glimmering stars.

Wood smoke and a hint of cinnamon fill the air, a sign fall is officially here, and I’m so blissfully happy that I could burst like a confetti popper, leaving a thousand shimmering sparkles in my wake. I wouldn’t change a thing.

I’m walking to the subway with Vicky and Patrick, who has taken it upon himself to belt the happy birthday song as loudly as his vocal cords will allow.

No one asked him to do this, least of all me—the actual birthday girl—but Patrick just carries on like he’s on one of those reality singing shows.

He prances ahead, in full production mode.

Vicky threads her arm through mine. “How many more times, do you think?”

“Please,” I moan. “Let this be the last.”

Spoiler alert: it’s not. In fact, he’s not watching where he’s going and nearly collides with an elderly gentleman, who admonishes him for his volume.

Patrick remains unfazed, jollier than ever. “Sorry, sir. It’s my friend’s birthday.”

“Is it?” the man deadpans. “I couldn’t tell.”

Once he’s out of earshot, I tug Vicky toward the subway entrance. “You’re so embarrassing!” I say to Patrick, praying he’s not about to start up again.

Lucky for me, he doesn’t.

It’s late for a school night, but my dad doesn’t mind since this is my birthday outing.

Plus, I’m with family. Vicky’s my cousin, and when Patrick suggested we go to my favorite hot pot place to celebrate, I said we couldn’t go without her.

Obviously. Most days, Vicky works at Kiki’s Chicken Kitchen after school, which is very good, though not as good as hot pot.

Anyway, I couldn’t have asked for anything better.

Except the singing. I can do without the singing.

The three of us pay our fare and navigate through the turnstile. Our train’s not due for several minutes, so Vicky and I leisurely descend the steps after Patrick.

“Can you believe you’re finally eighteen, Sara Lin?”

“I mean, nothing’s changed,” I say. “It’s just a number.”

“I can’t believe it.” Vicky beams. “It’s like you’re an adult now!”

“An adult?” Patrick cackles. “Sara Lin still looks like a kid. And let’s not forget she’s never even kissed a boy.”

I gasp. “Patrick.”

He’s not wrong. I tell Patrick everything—he’s been my best friend for ages—so he’d be the first to know if these lips had had any action. A twist of discomfort tilts in my belly. Does that make me pathetic? That I’m eighteen now, and haven’t had my first kiss yet?

“Well,” Vicky says, “it’s kinda true. And senior year just started.”

Not her too.

I groan. “Stop reminding me.”

Vicky only gives me a playful nudge. “You gotta get on it!”

“Excuse me,” I say. “It’s not like I can control that kind of thing. I just haven’t had the opportunity yet, otherwise—”

Otherwise, what? Would I have kissed someone?

Surely I would have, except—well. You know in all those romantic films where feelings build between the two leads and then they finally realize they care for each other?

There’s a whole moment. The music swells.

They look into each other’s eyes. And it’s like the whole world stops.

Their lips meet and—I don’t know—everything just makes sense. It’s perfect.

That’s what I want my first kiss to feel like.

Patrick swivels around. “So you’re saying all you need is an opportunity? And you’ll just, what? Do it?” He grins. “I can give you an opportunity right now.”

And before I can process what’s happening, he moves in close.

On the stairs we’re now the same height, and his eyes are so blue—an ocean on a clear day kind of blue—and I feel all the blood in my body rush straight into my cheeks, painting my fair skin red, which is an all-too-common occurrence if you’re a natural ginger like me.

I, unfortunately, can never hide a blush.

“Wh-what do you mean?” I stutter. “That—you? You want to just—?”

Is my best friend going to kiss me?

Now? Here? On these dirty subway stairs?

But then he bursts out laughing. In my face.

“No way, I’m talking about a bet.” He raises his eyebrows, all teasing. “Why would you even think that?”

“Clarify next time!” My face will forever be permanently flushed, I just know it. “You’re the one who’s standing way too close to me.”

He backs away, peers around the corner of the platform, then slides back around the wall.

“I have an idea,” he says, a mischievous expression forming behind his eyes.

My gaze jumps to Vicky, but she only shrugs. Patrick’s antics are a staple in this friendship. I have to admit, it keeps me on my toes.

“I bet you five bucks,” Patrick begins, all dramatic, “that you won’t go up and ask that guy if you can kiss him.”

The space between my brows pinches. “What are you—? What guy?”

Patrick chucks a thumb behind him. “That sleeping dude right there.”

I peer over his shoulder. A guy our age is sitting on an empty bench, eyes closed, hoodie yanked over his tousled blond hair.

He’s wearing these browline glasses that are more stylish than nerdy, and he’s got a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, like he’s headed on a trip.

If he goes to our school, I don’t recognize him.

And I would have. If he did go to Eagle Gate High, that is.

Because he’s . . . not bad looking. From this distance, anyway.

But—no. Patrick has lost his mind.

“For five bucks? Absolutely not.”

Patrick smirks, adjusting his backward cap. “Fine, you wanna raise the stakes? I’ll give you fifty bucks right now if you can get him to kiss you.”

My gaze ticks back to the sleeping boy. He looks harmless. And who knows? What if this is my ultimate swoonworthy meet-cute? And on my eighteenth birthday! Doesn’t everyone want a Sixteen Candles moment? Sure, I’m two years late, but who cares?

Destiny is in my hands. I’ll gather up the nerve to go over and ask if he’ll kiss me, and then he’ll look into my eyes like he’s never seen anyone on this earthly plane who possesses more beauty than the girl standing before him.

We’ll kiss, fall in love, and whenever anyone asks how we met, he’ll chuckle and say, It was so sweet!

If Sara hadn’t had the guts to kiss me, who knows what would have happened?

But do I have the guts to do all that?

Patrick cocks a brow. “I knew you couldn’t—”

Before he can even finish his sentence, I whirl on my heel and march toward the boy.

My heartbeat thuds rapidly in my chest as I pause in front of him.

He’s still asleep. Heat blooms up my neck and into my cheeks.

I’m grateful there’s no reflective surfaces around, because I’m positive I resemble an overripe strawberry.

It feels like I’ve arrived at the top of a roller coaster, anticipating the moment when my stomach flips like a pancake and adrenaline races down my spine.

My gaze drops to the floor. Wait! We’re wearing matching Sambas, white with burgundy stripes. What are the odds? That has to mean something, right? Matching shoes equals . . . soulmates? Either way, this is absolutely meet-cute material.

I take one itty-bitty step closer. The thudding in my chest accelerates and—what am I thinking? I can’t do this!

As I’m turning away, I spot Patrick and Vicky watching me with rapt anticipation. Patrick whisper-yells, “You’re gonna lose, chicken!” while Vicky clasps her hands and mouths, You can do it, Sara!

I pull a deep breath into my lungs. There’s no way I’m losing Patrick’s bet. I’m not going to let him think I’m some coward who can’t even approach a boy. I’d never live that down. Vicky’s right—I got this. I’ll just wake him up. That’s not hard, is it? Step one: wake him up. Step two—

Well, we’ll get there.

I face him again. Golden strands of hair fall around his face, which is a very nice face.

I haven’t spent much time admiring boy bone structure, but maybe I should.

That could become my new hobby. Appreciating a good face.

He’s got an angular jaw, thick eyebrows, and soft-looking skin.

Headphones cover his ears—which I hadn’t noticed before, since his hoodie’s partially obstructing them—and I wonder what he’s listening to.

He’s kind of cute.

Okay, I can do this. I’m the one who wanted to romanticize my life, and isn’t this one way to do it?

I crouch a tiny bit, leveling myself with the bench, and move closer. I’m just going to tap him on the shoulder and—

VOOOSH.

A huge gust of wind barrels along the platform as our train rushes forward, all speed-fueled momentum, wheels rumbling along the steel line.

Oh no. No, no, no, no—

The boy opens his eyes. And stares right at me.

Do not panic. This is it! If I don’t ask him now, I really am a coward.

I mean, I’m a whole year older now. I have to start taking chances.

Embrace my destiny! And besides, if I chicken out, I’ll always wonder if this could have been the meet-cute of my dreams. What if this is the beginning of something really spectacular? Am I gonna let that slip by?

So I swallow, gather the courage, and then say, “Can I kiss you?”