Bad Girl Reputation by Elle Kennedy

“Hailey … That’s the girl whose number you got at Big Molly’s, right?” Riley went out with her a few times over the summer, but every time I asked for details, he’d clammed up.

Today, he’s a bit more forthcoming. “Yeah. We’ve been texting since she went back home.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his board shorts, then removes them and starts fidgeting with a pair of metal tongs.

“What’s going on? You’re acting all bouncy.”

“Bouncy?”

“Fidgety. Whatever. Are you nervous about seeing her, is that it?”

“Sorta?”

“But you guys have already gone out before,” I remind him. “What’s there to be nervous about?”

“We played mini golf and went to the movies a couple times. Oh, and ice cream on the boardwalk. So, like, four times. But we never—” He stops abruptly.

I narrow my eyes at him, but he avoids my gaze. He’s antsy again, now pretending to check the temperature on the barbecue like some grilling expert, when we both know he’s never grilled anything a day in his life.

“You never what?” Then it dawns on me. I stifle a curse. “Aw man, nope, don’t tell me. I don’t need to hear about how you’re planning on having sex. Your aunt would murder—”

“Jeez!” he yelps. “We’re not having sex, you idiot.”

I’m swamped with relief, although a tad intrigued by the genuine shock on his face, as if he can’t fathom the idea of sleeping with the chick. Riley’s fourteen, the age I lost my virginity, but I suppose not everyone is an early bloomer like I was.

“I just wanna kiss her,” he adds, the confession coming out as an embarrassed mumble.

“Oh. Oh. Okay.” Kissing? I can handle a chat about kissing. There’s no way Aunt Liz can be mad at me for that, right? “Well. Judging by your tomato face, I take it you’ve never done it before?”

He awkwardly jerks his head from side to side, a reluctant no.

“Dude, you don’t need to be embarrassed. Lots of guys your age haven’t kissed anyone.” I lean against the railing of the deck, slanting my head. “So what do you want to know? How much tongue is too much tongue? Whether to grab her boobs when you do it?”

He squawks out a laugh, but some of the blush has left his face. Relaxing, he wanders over to stand beside me. The mouth-watering smell of the ribs cooking on the grill floats toward us.

“I’m just, like, not sure how to go for it. Like, do I say something beforehand?” He rubs his forehead with the back of his hand. “What if I lean in and she’s not ready for it, and our heads smash together and I break her nose?”

I choke down a laugh, because I know he wouldn’t appreciate being laughed at during such a sensitive topic. “I’m almost certain that won’t happen. But yeah, you don’t want to just go for it while she’s mid-sentence or anything. There’s a thing called consent. So, read the moment, you know? Wait for a lull in the conversation, gauge her expression and look for the signals.”

“What signals?”

“Like, if she’s licking her lips, it usually means she’s thinking about kissing you. If she’s staring at your mouth, also a good sign. Actually, that’s the way in,” I tell him, pushing away from the railing and heading for the cooler near the door. “Alright, listen up. This is what you gotta do.”

He trails after me, accepting the soda I hand him. For myself I get a beer, twisting off the cap and tossing it in the plastic bucket on the deck. I return to the wooden railing and hop up to sit atop it.

“So at the end of the date,” I continue, “or in the middle, or whenever you gather up the courage to do it, this is what you do—you stare at her lips. For like five seconds.”

Riley sputters out a laugh. “That’s so creepy!”

“It’s really not. Stare at her lips until she gets all awkward and says, why are you looking at me like that? Or some variation of that question.” When he opens his mouth to protest, I interject, “Trust me, she’ll say it. And when she does, you say, because I really want to kiss you right now—can I? So now she’s prepared, right? And based on her response, you go from there.”

“What if her response is no?”

“Then you handle the rejection like a man, tell her you had a great summer with her, and wish her luck on her future endeavors.”

I can’t help but marvel at the sheer maturity I’m exuding. If only Gen were here to see it.

“But for what it’s worth, a chick doesn’t go out with someone four times if she’s not interested,” I assure him.

“Truth,” Cooper’s voice echoes from the sliding door. “For once, my brother’s not talking out of his ass.”

Riley’s gaze snaps to the door. His jaw falling open, he glances at Cooper, then me, then Coop again, and finally me. “Holy shit, you didn’t tell me you guys were identical,” he accuses.

I roll my eyes. “I said we were twins. Figured you’d extrapolate from there.”

Grinning, Coop extends a hand toward my Little Brother. “Hey, I’m Cooper. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Riley’s still blinking like an owl, astounded at our twinship. “Wow. It’s scary how alike you look. If you weren’t wearing different clothes, I don’t think I’d be able to tell you apart.”