First Kiss (Sweet N' Sour Kisses: Episode 1)



  VL. Virgin Lips. You may not have heard of it, but where I live, it’s a thing with a card, even if it is a figurative card. I was Brooklyn Hamlin, certified virgin lips, and I planned on clinging to that figurative card with all I had—while dating as many of the hottest guys at school as I could.

  Maybe that’s a bit strange. I mean, what teenage girl isn’t interested in kissing? Locking lips definitely interested me, but the drama that came with it didn’t. No kissing, no drama. Simple.

  But on my sixteenth birthday, on my first real date even, the drama found me. His name was Luke Graham—cute, funny, and bad news for the whole female race.

  Watched

  Protected

  Created

  Watched Trilogy

  Gravediggers

  Adrenaline Rush

  Stolen Kiss

  Rebound Kiss

  Rejected Kiss

  First Kiss

  Confessions of a 16 Year-Old Virgin Lips, Episode 1

  By

  Cindy M. Hogan

  Copyright © 2013 by Cindy Hogan

  Cover design by Novak Illustrations

  Cover photography by Still Memories by Tomi

  Edited by Charity West

  Formatted by Heather Justesen

  Published by Cindy M. Hogan

  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.

  Visit her at cindymhogan.com

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  This is a work of fiction. Characters and events in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously.

  To all who have experienced first kisses

  VL. Virgin Lips. I know what you’re thinking. It’s 2013—that’s not a thing anymore. But I’m a Mormon. In Utah. Trust me, it’s a thing. There’s a card, even if it is figurative. And right up until my 16th birthday I had my VL card. I was certified virgin lips, and I was clinging to that figurative card with all I figuratively had.

  See, I know teenagers have this reputation for being rebellious. The words are practically glued together. In the dictionary: teenager, see: rebellious. But believe it or not, there are actually some of us who like the rules. Call me mature beyond my years, but to me rules have always made sense. In fact, I love the rules. They give me a sense of security and purpose. And for me, and most of my friends, the rules were simple: No attending boy-girl parties, No boys at the house, and (absolutely!) No dating.

  Until you’re sixteen, that is.

  After sixteen, everything changes. Boys come into the picture. At parties? Yup! At the house? Why not! And on dates? You better believe it. And yes, in Utah, we actually go on dates. No lie. Well, at least some of us do.

  But the rules are still there in their comforting way, just a little updated. Fewer No’s, more Only’s. Dating’s allowed, but only in groups. A guy can take you out, but only if he meets your parents first.

  There was still one more No, at least for me—No kissing.

  This wasn’t my parents’ rule, or my church’s rule. It was mine, and I knew it was a good one. I’d seen the girls sobbing their eyes out in the bathroom at school, and I was not going to be one of those girls. If you don’t kiss, you don’t get serious, and if you don’t get serious, you don’t get your heart broken.

  Because seriously dating in high school? Come on, you gotta know that’s going to end badly. So, dating in high school is just practice. You figure out what you like and what you don’t like, and when you get to college you can make an informed decision. And then—and this is the best part—when you’re ready, and you find that perfect guy, and you are both really and truly and perfectly in love, you kiss and it’s the most perfect, magical, life-changing experience. And you ride off into the sunset, happily ever after.

  See? It was a good rule.

  And completely safe behind that rule, I was ready for this magical birthday that would change everything. I knew, I absolutely knew with my whole heart that it was going to be perfect.

  Now, this is the part when you cue the little did she know. It’s dramatic irony—I learned about it in English class. Because what you know, and what I know now thanks to Luke Graham, is that sunsets are an illusion. Perfect doesn’t happen. Magic isn’t real. And kissing? Kissing is disgusting.

  Here’s my story.

  Chapter 1