Kiss Cam

by Kiara London

  I hit enter and the comment pops up beneath the girl’s. It’s only seconds later that she excitedly replies:

  green_fizzle_pop: Ohmygosh, you actually replied to my comment!!! After two years of following you guys, it finally pays off! And YES. You’d be the coolest people EVER. There’s not a lot of fanfiction surrounding you guys, and those who do write it need a little boost. I want you guys together SO much, even if it’s only in fanfiction—GOOD fanfiction. LOVE YOU GUYS.

  I giggle at her comment, unable to believe what I’m reading. I’d never read Jasiper fanfiction before. In fact, I didn’t even know that people actually wrote it. I just knew that people who shipped us screen-capped moments where Jasper and I looked at each other or touched each other. Now I know we actually have fanfiction.

  Would it be terrible if we actually encouraged love stories about us? It’s harmless. I’d read fanfiction about other people, because, what can I say, I’m an Internet junkie. I know people have the potential to create very risqué stories about us like they do about others, but it’s not like we have to read them. If they want to believe something, they can go right ahead. We like keeping our viewers happy, and there’s no point trying to stop the inevitable.

  Even though this person makes me laugh and gives me things to think about, I can’t bring myself to reply to her again and instead continue to scroll through the messages.

  I must be laughing too much or typing too loudly, because shortly after the fanfiction comment, Jasper kicks off his blanket and sits up in bed. Turning my head, I see him give me an annoyed look. But it’s hard to feel bad when his hair is sticking up on one side and pressed snugly to his head on the other. There’s also the fact that his shirt is askew and his eyes are tired with sleep, making him look rather pathetic.

  “Why’re you so loud in the morning?” he whines, and flings himself facedown beside me, burying his nose deep into the mattress. His voice is muffled when he adds, “Jus’ wanna shleep.”

  “It’s nearly afternoon,” I tell him unsympathetically, and pat the top of his head. “You were going to sleep the day away.”

  He turns his head and looks up at me through his eyelashes. “That was the idea, June.”

  “Terrible idea,” I tell him flatly, and turn back to my computer.

  “What’re you doing, anyway?” he asks while my fingers tap quickly across my keyboard.

  “I’m on VlogIt.”

  He sits up and crawls behind me to look at the screen. His breath is at my neck, blowing a curl across my ear, and I think about moving out of his way until his chin comes to rest on my shoulder.

  He hums after reading a few comments and then rolls out of bed. “I think we have a sailing ship, what d’you think?” There’s humor in his voice, as if he’s almost proud of it.

  I watch him stride across his room, yanking open dresser drawers and pulling things from his closet. “I’m going to shower. Be back in ten.”

  He leaves after that and I sit on his mattress, staring after him. There are moments in a friendship when you realize the other person has stopped caring about leaving you alone to entertain yourself. He used to be worried about doing that. He also used to wake up the moment he knew that I was awake, but that rarely happens anymore. Also, he doesn’t make me breakfast like he did in the good ole days. Lenny jokes about us turning into an “old married couple.” There’s probably a lot of truth to that statement.

  I hear the water turn on in the bathroom and decide to go get breakfast while he’s away. The whole house is dimly lit, so I flick curtains open on my way to the kitchen. The kitchen is a bit dirty and cramped. Dishes are piled up in the sink, the countertop has patches of scattered crumbs covering its surface. When I see this, I decide that cereal isn’t a good idea and open a cupboard in search of Pop-Tarts. I have to dig a little, but find a box in the back of the cupboard. Jasper’s not a fan of them, but it’s a quick option for me when I’m over. Usually, I bring some over and they get tucked away.

  I tear at the shiny packaging, making quite a bit of noise on my way back up the stairs. I stop trying to open it, though, when I pass Leeann’s room. This time I notice her door is closed, whereas it’s usually left wide open. I figure she’s home after a long night and try to be as quiet as possible on my way back to Jasper’s room.

  Back inside his room, I rip the packaging off and stuff half the pastry in my mouth while bouncing back onto his bed. Shortly after, Jasper comes into the room dripping and shirtless.

  “You know,” I say around a mouthful of Pop-Tart, my eyes dropping down to his bare chest. “I think people are right about us.”

  “How’d you mean?” he asks, and throws his T-shirt over his shoulder with one hand while the other roughs up his damp hair with a towel.

  I raise an eyebrow and let my eyes flick between his face and his naked chest multiple times. Even his girlfriends are never with him long enough to view him half-naked. It’s not that bare chests are unusual on guys, it’s just unusual on Jasper. He’s scrawny, so he feels insecure about being shirtless in public. But he’ll walk around me when he’s shirtless after a shower. When we were younger, I used to feel special about being close enough friends with him that he’d trust me even though he was uncomfortable about it.

  “Oh,” he says with a smile. “Really? June, I’ve seen you in your underwear about a hundred times, but this is what you use as evidence? Reevaluate that, because I think most of those rumors online are due to you.” He laughs and pokes out his tongue.

  “You’ve never seen me in my underwear,” I tell him matter-of-factly. “We have the No Peeking Rule.”

  “Right, because I totally follow that.” He winks.

  My mouth drops open, and I set the pastry I’m eating onto his bed. “You do too,” I insist.

  He shifts his weight onto one hip and tosses the towel into his hamper. “You’re changing in front of a guy and you think he’s not going to peek?” he laughs, and pulls his shirt over his head. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

  I stare at him in disgust, totally appalled that he’s broken a rule we’d shook on. “Then the rumors are your fault!”

  “I don’t tell anyone about your virgin panties and lacy bras—which, by the way, are totally ironic to wear at the same time.”

  “Wow,” I say with a scowl.

  “I think we’re even,” he states indifferently, and plucks his deodorant off his dresser. “You see me shirtless—which is a big deal for me—and I can take tiny looks while you change in front of me—which is a big deal for you. You don’t tell anyone about how unimpressive my body is, and I don’t brag to anyone that I get to see you in your underwear, like, all the time.”

  “I could slap you right now,” I warn him, while my face reddens and my stomach knots in embarrassment.

  “The fact is,” he continues, ignoring my warning altogether, “the rumors only exist because we’re friends with the opposite sex. It has nothing to do with who’s seen who practically naked. You’ve seen me in my underwear, so what?”

  “I’m a girl,” I grit out, anger hinting in my voice.

  “Great,” he says, sounding bored, and pauses while he applies deodorant. “We also kiss on our vlog. It’s all irrelevant to our friendship.”

  My jaw clenches and I close my eyes to take a breath. “Keep talking, Jas, and I’m seriously going to slap you.”

  He doesn’t say anything, and my ears ring with the silence. I can’t even wrap my head around what’s just happened. Maybe it’s not as big of a deal as I’m making it out to be, but then again it is. We’re best friends. I’ve already agreed to kiss him in a vlog, which was a huge decision and highly out of character for me. Now he tells me he’s been peeking at me while I change? We had the No Peeking Rule for a reason. He shook on it. What else has he agreed to where he hasn’t held up his end?

  “June,” he finally says, and my eyes snap open, body turning rigid. “I didn’t mean for that to make you upset.”

  “Well,
it did,” I hiss, and slam my laptop shut. “I know you don’t have boundaries like normal people—trust me, I get that. But when we shake on something like the No Peeking Rule, I expect that I should be able to trust you, especially since you’re my friend.”

  His face turns apologetic, eyes softening when they meet mine. “Sometimes I forget that we still have boundaries.”

  “What is that even supposed to mean?” I ask exasperatedly.

  He shrugs and scratches at his jaw a little uncomfortably. “We share food, sleep in the same bed—I mean, you practically live here. We’re going to be kissing all the time now. Do you want me to continue?”

  “Some boundaries are necessary when you’re friends with the opposite sex, otherwise . . .” I stop and drop my eyes from his. It’s the thing I’m afraid of with Jasper but never want to openly admit. I’m afraid of us being more than friends. I’m afraid I’d lose him.

  He lets out a breath and runs a hand through his hair. I keep my eyes on my feet while he comes to sit beside me. He smells like Old Spice and toothpaste, and something that’s distinctly Jasper. It’s a comforting, familiar smell that makes me melt into his side and rest my head on his shoulder.

  “I get it,” he says quietly. “Sorry.”

  “I’m still mad at you.”

  He rests his head on mine and throws an arm over my shoulder to squeeze me closer. “I would be concerned if you weren’t. I obviously crossed a line.”

  I nod into his arm. “Yeah, you did.”

  “I won’t do it again,” he promises. “It was by accident the first time, anyway. After that it kind of became a game to see if I’d get caught.”

  I send my fist into his arm and he winces. “Why am I friends with you again?”

  He chuckles. “Because I didn’t let you have a choice.”

  I smile at this because it’s true.

  IT’S ANOTHER FREEZING morning in the backseat of Jasper’s car. The heat is turned all the way up, but the only thing his car spits out is cold air. My hands are tucked under my thighs to keep them warm, and my jacket is pulled up past my lips so that my breath warms my neck and chest. Jasper is quietly maneuvering his way around traffic with his gloved hands tight on the steering wheel. Lenny bops his head along to the heavy drumbeat of the mix tape he brought along to play in the car.

  Like every other morning, we’re all too sleepy to talk. However, it seems every other stoplight, Lenny and Jasper will make eye contact and share silent smiles. Then Lenny will swallow down laughter and the moment is gone.

  I let out a loud breath and tuck myself into a tighter ball, allowing my head to swivel over and my eyes to follow the many cars that hurry past Jasper’s at above-speed-limit speeds. Again, out of the corner of my eye I see Lenny and Jasper share matching grins. I’m too tired for games but am quickly getting annoyed. I wonder if they’re giggling about something I’ve done. Choosing to ignore them for the remainder of the drive proves to be difficult.

  Once parked and minutes from being late, I open the door swiftly and start a quick stride across the parking lot. Jasper’s and Lenny’s voices follow me, giggles and hushed whispers about things they refuse to include me in. It’s early and they’re acting ridiculous and I don’t have time for it, so I enter the school alone and make my way to class.

  Jasper and Lenny hung out yesterday, and now they seem to have some inside joke I don’t understand. Their secretiveness is making me irritable, especially since I have a feeling it’s about me. A part of me thinks it’s about the No Peeking Rule. It’s the same part that makes me blush every time the thought crosses my mind.

  Jasper has an unusual way of making me flustered today. It’s a new, impish side to him that’s making me irritated. It’s as if he’s doing this stuff to get a reaction from me.

  Sometimes you need to confide in another girl. So I decided to confide in Allison. She’s one of my closest girlfriends—or rather, one of my only girlfriends. She’s smart, quick-tongued, and most often mysterious. She can keep a secret, and that’s why I choose to keep her close.

  Allison stares at me blankly from her desk. “He . . . peeked?” she asks with narrowed eyes after I relate to her what happened this weekend with Jasper.

  I nod. “That’s totally weird, right? It’s not just me overreacting?”

  The bell rings for class to start, and the students around us take their seats. The chime barely makes an impression on us and we lean in closer, lowering our voices so that we can still talk somewhat undetected during attendance.

  “Uh, yeah,” she states easily, and then shakes her head. “June, this whole thing just doesn’t feel right. . . .”

  I wave her off. “I know, I know—”

  “And that should have definitely been a red flag. . . .”

  “Yep.”

  “So tell me again why you’re still going through with Kiss Cam?” Her brows are furrowed together and confused, and there’s something else twinkling in her eye that I just can’t place.

  Our history teacher calls out my name and I raise my hand absently while my body leans in closer to Allison, trying to decide how to justify myself.

  The whole No Peeking Rule episode between Jasper and me has been bugging me even after he apologized. I needed to talk to someone who wasn’t Lenny and wasn’t my parents. There was something about the way he worded it. How he wouldn’t go “bragging” about seeing me in my underwear—as if he liked the view. I admit that looking back on the moment makes me uncomfortable. Especially since he’s my best friend and especially because of the Kiss Cam. To me it’s beginning to feel as though one wrong turn and Jasper and I could end up together. It scares me because I don’t want to ultimately end up losing him.

  “I guess I’m just banking on my decision to say ‘stop,’ ” I admit. “We’re not far enough in yet. We’ve just started, and VlogIt is excited.” I pause. “And, I don’t know . . . I kind of like kissing him?”

  Allison searches my face for a moment, and it looks as though she’s gearing up to say something, but then she bites her lip and stops. Instead, she reaches into her backpack and begins pulling out her history stuff. I wait, but the only thing she says is “here” when her name is called for attendance.

  “Allison?” I whisper.

  She glances at me and frowns. After a few pensive taps of her pencil, she turns back toward me. “Promise me something,” she orders quietly.

  I blink a couple of times, puzzled. “Okay?”

  “Try to remember what it was like a couple years ago when things start getting too real with him.”

  Then she turns her attention to our teacher, and I’m left to sink back in my seat to think about everything that could go wrong. I hate it so much I think about all the good things that came out of VlogIt instead, and forget about the promise.

  By the end of the day I’m tired of riddles and secretive giggles. With Jasper and Lenny running about with jokes only they understand, I feel really out of the loop. Not to mention, Allison is either playing mother hen or is keeping something from me, too. Either way, I feel a little run-down by the end of the school day.

  Back in our neighborhood, we all fall in through Jasper’s front door, Lenny tackling me while Jasper runs into the kitchen to grab after-school snacks, like my Pop-Tarts, Lenny’s favorite potato chips, and a couple of cans of Dr Pepper and Hawaiian Punch.

  I push Lenny off me, cursing at him while he laughs and yanks at me again as we enter the living room.

  “Would you stop,” I groan. “What is wrong with you two today? You both are acting bizarre. What’s taking Jasper so long?”

  I barely finish my sentence when there’s a loud clattering in the kitchen followed by a giant thud. Everything becomes silent: no cursing from Jasper, nothing indicating that whatever fell was getting picked up, just the sound of a rolling pop can. Lenny and I glance at each other, wide-eyed, and hurry in to see what happened.

  Rounding the corner, we find Jasper out cold on the floor and our
snacks strewn around the kitchen.

  “Oh my God,” I gasp, dodging miscellaneous snacks as I jump across the room to crouch beside Jasper.

  “What happened?”

  “How am I supposed to know?” I ask irritably, trembling a little as I try to shake Jasper awake.

  “Did he faint?”

  I glare at him from across the room. “Don’t just stand there, Lenny!”

  “Well, is he breathing?” he asks, bouncing across the room to kneel down beside me.

  I place my finger under his nose and watch his chest. Nothing. My eyes widen in panic, and I frantically grab for his wrist.

  Somewhat relieved, but still shaking, I announce, “He’s still got a pulse.”

  “You’re the only one who knows anything about CPR, June,” Lenny reminds me urgently.

  “Then call 911! God, Lenny!” I practically scream as I tip his chin up.

  Swallowing nervously, I pinch his nose closed and steady his head.

  “I haven’t done this in real life before. . . .”

  “June!”

  With my heart pounding hard in my chest, I squeeze my eyes shut and seal my lips over Jasper’s for the first rescue breath. Except things don’t go how I remember from Red Cross CPR training, because a dummy doesn’t suddenly grab the back of your head and stick their tongue in your mouth. My hands slip on the kitchen floor, and I fall on top of Jasper, who is clearly perfectly conscious.

  Next thing I know, Lenny’s throaty, boisterous laugh is filling the kitchen, Jasper is holding me in place while delivering fierce kisses, and I’m frozen still with glowing red cheeks.

  It takes me a moment to realize what’s going on—too long, because just as quickly as it began, Jasper is releasing his grip on me.

  I fly off him and he sits up, red in the face and grinning slyly. He quickly turns to face the spice shelf behind me.

  “Kiss Cam!” Jasper yells, and a giggle-ridden Lenny sprints across the room to take the camera off the shelf and point it directly at me.