Read 17 First Kisses for Free Online Page B

to do is vent. It probably comes from growing up with a single mom and two sisters.
    Sam shakes his head at me from inside the goal. “This is Megan McQueen we’re talking about. Did you really expect anything less than drama? Oh, and you’re a really bad shot when you’re pissed off.”
    â€œThanks.” I glare at him and kick another ball.
    This one goes right to him, and he catches it easily and tosses it away from the goal. Usually we’re pretty evenly matched, but he’s right: my mood totally affects my game.
    He chuckles. “You know how I feel about the evil one.” Sam has never been able to get over Megan calling him Spamlet for all of fourth grade. And I’m not saying she’s all sunshine and unicorns, but she’s the closest girlfriend I’ve ever had and probably will ever have. She’s kind of like a finicky cat. Once she decides she likes you, you’re in. And if she doesn’t, watch out for her claws.
    â€œI know. I know.”
Thwack!
“But she’s a really good friend. At least, she is when it doesn’t involve a boy. Plus, she’s the only girl I know who wants to get out of this miserable, little town as much as I do.”
    â€œI want to get out of Pine Bluff.”
    â€œI know. But still. It’s good to have a girl I can count on too.”
    â€œBut you don’t trust her to stay away from Luke?”
    â€œHell, no. He’s coming to the game tonight, and we’re bothgoing to be there.
Something
is going to happen. But I agreed to back off, so I guess I have to.”
    â€œWhy can’t you both just go for him?”
    â€œIt’ll put her in crazy competitive mode. I don’t need any more guy drama. I don’t want a repeat of sophomore year.”
    â€œTrue,” says Sam. “Anyway, if you really think it’s going to get that crazy with Megan, you could let her have him. You just met him. He’s probably not even worth all this trouble.”
    â€œI know. But I haven’t liked a boy in so long.” I’m whining now, but I can’t help it. “I haven’t even kissed anyone since tenth grade. I’ve been keeping a low profile because I can’t deal with another Screaming Lemurs debacle. Do you know how hard it is to convince people you aren’t a slut?”
    â€œUm, no. Not really.”
    Thwack!
The last ball veers left too.
    â€œLet’s quit for today.” I head over to the sideline and pick up a mesh bag for the balls. “I still have to go home and get ready for tonight.”
    â€œYou really want to go watch Buck slap other guys on the ass?”
    â€œEw. No.” I shudder. “But do you really have better plans?”
    There are only four things to do in Pine Bluff on a Friday night: catch a movie at the Cineplex, go to a party at someone’s house or field, hang out in the Walmart parking lot, or watch the high school football game. Sam dribbles over to me with the last ball, kicks it up to his knees, where he bounces it back and forth effortlessly, then pops it into the bag with his head.
    â€œShow-off,” I mutter.
    He grins. Sam always got stuck playing goalie growing up because overweight kids can’t run fast. But when you play a position for that long, you can’t help but get good at it, so now he plays varsity.
    On our way home, we take the shortcut, a dirt road lined with muscadines growing wild.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â 
muscadine (noun)
    Â Â Â Â Â Â 
A southeastern fruit that is kind of like a grape. Only fatter. And more tart. And with a really thick skin.
    We pop them in our mouths fresh off the vine—because nobody uses pesticides out here—suck out the juice, and spit out the skin and seeds.
    â€œI guess I’ll go to the game tonight,” says Sam. “There are a couple of ladies I need to impress.”
    I roll my eyes.
    â€œI need your advice,” he says after a