Kissing the Player

Nina

I sat cross-legged on my bed, staring blankly at my laptop screen. The cursor blinked back at me, a silent reminder of the essay I should have been writing. But my mind was elsewhere, replaying the conversation that had shattered my confidence just days ago.

"You're unlovable, Nina," Ryan had said, his voice laced with frustration and bitterness. "You should have been glad I even suggested we date. But now, that offer's off the table."

His words echoed in my mind, each repetition more painful than the last. Ryan, my best friend of two years, had turned my world upside down with a single, cruel declaration. I had always believed that love would find me one day, but now I couldn't shake the nagging doubt that maybe he was right.

I sighed and pushed my laptop aside, reaching for a notebook on my nightstand. I flipped to a fresh page and wrote one name in bold, determined letters: Noah Sinclair. According to the girls on campus, he was the best kisser—the one who could make me forget, even for a moment, that I was unlovable.

Could I live with the knowledge that I was unlovable? Maybe. But going through life without being kissed, not even once? That was unacceptable. I deserved to feel wanted, if only for a fleeting moment, and Noah could give me that.

As I stared at Noah’s name, I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like. The other girls talked about his kisses like they were magical, transformative even. Would it be enough to prove Ryan wrong? To prove to myself that I wasn't unlovable?

I chewed on the end of my pen, lost in thought. The idea of being kissed by Noah was both exhilarating and terrifying. What if I couldn't live up to the hype? What if he found me lacking, just like Ryan did? 

My phone buzzed, pulling me back to reality. A text from my mom, reminding me to eat something. I glanced at the clock and realized I hadn't eaten all day. Grabbing my jacket, I headed for the door, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination.

As I walked through the campus, the evening air crisp against my skin, my mind raced. The student union building was just ahead, a place where I knew I could grab a quick bite. But food was the last thing on my mind. All I could think about was my plan and the uncertainty that lay ahead.

I paused at the entrance, taking a deep breath. Could I really do this? Approach the most popular guy in college and ask him to kiss me? The thought was almost laughable, yet the sting of Ryan's words pushed me forward. I needed to do this, for myself. To prove that I was more than what Ryan had made me feel.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside, the warmth of the building a stark contrast to the chill outside. The hum of conversations and clinking of utensils filled the air, grounding me. I spotted a few familiar faces, but none of them were Noah’s. Not that I expected him to be here; someone like Noah probably had better things to do.

I sat in the corner of the student union building, picking at my food and lost in thought. My mind drifted back to the first day of college, the day I met Ryan. We were both late for orientation, rushing down the hallway and crashing into each other at the door. We laughed it off, realizing we were both new and equally lost. That shared moment of chaos turned into an instant bond. From that day on, we were inseparable.

Ryan was special to me. Our friendship was like a lifeline. I had tried to make other friends, but for some reason, those connections never stuck. People came and went, but Ryan was always there. He understood me in a way no one else did, or so I thought. 

So when he suggested we date, I was taken aback. I had never seen him that way, and I thought he would understand. I expected him to brush it off, maybe laugh about it later. But instead, he got angry. His words cut deeper than I could have ever imagined. "You're unlovable, Nina. You should have been glad I even suggested we date." Those words were a betrayal, a dagger to the heart from the person I trusted most.

As I stared down at my half-eaten sandwich, the memory of Ryan's hurtful words played on a loop in my mind. The shock, the pain, the disbelief—it all came rushing back. How could someone who knew me so well say something so cruel? His rejection felt like a confirmation of my worst fears. 

I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away. I couldn't let his words define me. I needed to reclaim my sense of self, to prove that I wasn't unlovable. And that started with finding out if a kiss from Noah Sinclair could make me feel wanted, even if just for a moment. 

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that this was about more than just a kiss. It was about reclaiming my self-worth, about proving to myself that I deserved to be loved and wanted.

The journey ahead was uncertain, but I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this experiment would be the start of something new. Something that would help me rediscover my confidence.

As I sat there, lost in my thoughts, I knew one thing for sure: my quest for the perfect kiss had begun, and there was no turning back.

I finished my meal and gathered my thoughts, feeling a strange mix of anxiety and anticipation. I knew I couldn’t just walk up to Noah and ask for a kiss. I needed a plan.

The next few days were spent observing Noah from afar, trying to decipher his schedule and find the perfect moment to approach him. He was always surrounded by people, his laughter and easy charm drawing everyone in. I watched him in the cafeteria, the library, even at the gym. Everywhere he went, he seemed to be the center of attention. It wasn’t hard to see why the girls on campus thought he was the best kisser; he had an aura of confidence that was undeniably attractive.

Mornings for Noah typically started at the gym. He was there early, around six, lifting weights and running on the treadmill. His dedication to fitness was evident in his toned physique, and it was easy to see why he caught the eye of so many. By seven-thirty, he was usually at the campus coffee shop, grabbing a black coffee and chatting with the baristas, who always seemed to have a smile for him.

Noah's classes were spread out through the day, but he often spent his free periods in the library. He had a particular spot by the large windows where he liked to study, headphones on, immersed in his work. It was during these quiet moments that I saw a different side of him, focused and determined, far removed from his usual playful demeanor.

Lunchtime found him in the cafeteria, surrounded by a group of friends. Noah was the type who thrived in social settings, effortlessly engaging everyone around him. His laughter was infectious, and his stories always seemed to captivate his audience. He had a magnetic presence that drew people in, making them feel special, if only for a moment.

Afternoons were more unpredictable. Sometimes he was in the student union building, participating in various club activities or just lounging around, playing pool. Other times, he could be found on the soccer field, either practicing with the team or just kicking the ball around with a few friends. His versatility and willingness to engage in different activities only added to his allure.

Evenings were when Noah's reputation as the campus bad boy and playboy truly shone. He was often seen at parties, the life of the event, always with a different girl on his arm. Despite his popularity and charm, he never seemed to have a steady girlfriend. It was as if he enjoyed the thrill of the chase more than the idea of settling down. This aspect of his persona was well-known, whispered about in the hallways and dorm rooms, but it didn't deter me. I wasn't looking for a relationship; I just wanted to experience the perfect kiss.

Noah's playboy reputation didn’t matter to me. I had heard all the stories, the rumors of fleeting romances and broken hearts. But I wasn’t interested in any of that. All I wanted was to be kissed by the best kisser on campus, to feel that spark and prove to myself that I was worthy of being desired. My goal was simple and straightforward, devoid of any illusions of love or commitment.

One evening, as I watched Noah from across the student union, I saw him break away from his group of friends and head toward the large oak tree outside. He sat down on a bench, pulling out a notebook and pen, lost in thought. Intrigued, I leaned forward, curious to see what he was up to.

Unexpectedly, Noah began to draw. His hand moved swiftly and confidently across the paper, sketching lines that gradually formed shapes and figures. I was taken aback. I had always seen him as the charismatic, carefree guy who charmed everyone with his easy laughter and playful banter. But this side of him was different—introspective, focused, and deeply engrossed in his art.

I watched in awe as he continued to draw, his brow furrowed in concentration, his eyes darting back and forth between the notebook and the scene before him. How much talent did Noah Sinclair have? It was as if he had layers that no one ever saw, hidden beneath his exterior of charm and popularity.

For a while, I just stood there, mesmerized by his skill. Each stroke of his pen revealed a depth and precision that spoke volumes about his dedication and passion. It was a side of him I never expected to see, and it made him even more intriguing.

Without even realizing what I was doing, I pulled out my tablet and found a spot where I could see him clearly but remain hidden from his view. My fingers hovered over the screen for a moment, and then I began to draw. I captured the way he sat, his posture relaxed yet focused, his hand moving with a fluid grace. I tried to convey the intensity in his eyes, the subtle curve of his lips as he lost himself in his work.

As I sketched, I found myself getting lost in the process, mirroring his concentration and dedication. It was as if, in that moment, we were connected through our shared love for art, even though he had no idea I was there. The more I drew, the more I appreciated the complexity of Noah Sinclair—the bad boy, the playboy, the artist. He was so much more than the surface image he projected, and I wondered how many other hidden talents and passions he had.

When I finally looked up from my tablet, I saw that Noah had finished his drawing and was now looking out into the distance, a serene expression on his face. I smiled to myself, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. For the first time, I felt like I had glimpsed a piece of the real Noah, the person behind the façade. And in that moment, I realized that my quest for the perfect kiss had become about more than just proving myself—it was about uncovering the hidden depths within both Noah and myself.

With a new sense of determination, I closed my tablet and stood up, ready to face whatever came next. This journey was about discovery, and I was just getting started.

Nina

Thinking about kissing the most popular guy in college was crazy. But thinking about paying him to kiss you? That was even crazier. But what other option did I have?

I had thought about it so much. I could just go up to him and ask for a kiss, but the chances of that being successful were slimmer than finding a needle in a haystack. Noah Sinclair was surrounded by admirers and friends, always the center of attention. Why would he bother with someone like me, someone who was practically invisible to him?

But if I paid him, maybe it would be different. I could tell him I wanted the perfect kiss—the type of kiss that makes it feel okay to be alone for the rest of my life. And I didn't think anyone would be willing to do that for free. Paying him seemed like a logical solution, right?

Right?

Even if it wasn’t, it was too late. My feet were already moving toward him. He was at a club with his friends, and I had been watching him, waiting for the