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I 've never been kissed by a boy.

Not even a peck on the cheek.

Pretty normal for a sixteen-year-old girl who's never been on a date. Or never had a boyfriend. So it shouldn't be a big deal, right?

I mean, it's not like I'm the only girl in the world who's a little behind in that department. I'm pretty sure I can name dozens of girls in McKinley High who are just as inexperienced as me. I'm not going to, but I can.

So yeah, it shouldn't be a big deal at all.

But it kind of is—for me.

It's not that I'm desperate or anything.

But here's the thing: I'm turning seventeen in a month and, well, I don't want to be a seventeen-year-old girl who's never been kissed. Like how lame is that?

I'm not looking for a boyfriend. Not even for a short term. Maybe just a cute date where I can finally have that foot-popping kiss from Princess Diaries that I've always wanted. Something that's totally possible to achieve.

It's not even that hard. Girls get it all the time.

So how hard can it be?

I just need to come up with a plan…

"Maise, are you there? Did you just hear what I said?" Iris's impatient tone cuts through my haze, dragging me from my thoughts.

I blink a few times to clear my head. "Yeah, totally."

"No, you didn't." She rolls her eyes. "You've been daydreaming again . Let me guess, you finished another book last night and fell in love with the hero."

She loves to tease me about my hobby of reading romance books like I daydream about male love interests every single time. Yeah, right. I only do that when the hero is a hundred percent swoon-worthy. And I don't come across that kind of hero that often.

What can I say? I'm not easily impressed.

I grab my soda can and take a sip through the straw. "Uh, no. That wasn't the case at all. I didn't even read a single page. But if you must know, I spent the night watching Princess Diaries ."

She snorts. "Oh, so you were daydreaming about Michael."

"Eww, no. Chris Pine will always be the superior love interest." I raise a finger when she opens her mouth. "And before you say that it was him I was daydreaming about, I wasn't. I was just thinking about something."

"Okay, then tell me," Iris demands, taking a bite out of her tuna sandwich.

I'm about to do just that, but then I notice something on her dark blond hair. Knowing she'd be annoyed if I didn't say anything, I point out, "You know there's a tiny chunk of bread sticking out of your hair right now, right?"

Her eyes widen in alarm. "Where?"

Laughing, I flick it off her hair. "There. It's gone."

"Okay, whatever." She waves a hand. "Back to what you were saying."

I pop a potato chip into my mouth. Should I even tell her? Ugh. Why am I even asking myself? Iris Wayans is my best friend, and I tell her everything important that's going on in my life. And this one definitely counts as important.

"You know I've never been kissed, right?" I say in a hushed whisper, making sure no one else can hear me.

"Uh-huh." She nods slowly.

"So I was inspired by the signature foot-popping kiss scene in Princess Diaries . Now, I'm thinking that I want to experience that before I turn seventeen. And I've got like a month before that happens."

“Okay?"

"I mean, I should make sure that I get to experience that, right? Every girl deserves to experience that kind of first kiss."

She takes a sip of her soda. "What happens if you don't?"

“Duh! Then I’ll be a seventeen-year-old girl who’s never been kissed.”

“And that’s a big deal?” I can tell she’s trying hard not to laugh.

Why isn't she taking this seriously?

I glare at her. “Yes, it is. That’s like being an old maid in teenage years.”

“No, it’s not.” She finally lets out the laugh she was holding. “Who told you that nonsense?”

I fiddle with my short braids, suddenly feeling silly. “No one."

"Seriously. Who told you?"

"Fine. I heard it from a couple of seniors in the girls’ bathroom this morning. They were talking about inexperienced girls.”

They were so serious about it too, saying it was important for girls our age to explore stuff and experience things. I never even thought that a teenage old maid had ever existed, but what did I really know?

I'm not sure I wholly agree with them, but they got me thinking with that comment.

“Well, clearly, they don’t know what they’re talking about because it’s not true. There’s no such thing as a teenage old maid. Besides, that term is sexist. We’re not living in the fifties.”

“I know. I know. It’s just that I’m suddenly feeling pressured about it.”

“I really don’t know what’s the big deal, Maise. So you’ve never been kissed, but who cares? It’s not the end of the world.”

“Easy for you to say—you had your first kiss when we were like thirteen.”

“Fourteen,” she corrects me. “And it was just okay. There was nothing special about it. My foot didn't even pop or whatever. So you’re not really missing out on anything.”

“Please.” I roll my eyes. “We spent hours on the phone after Ken Adams kissed you. You were so over the moon you couldn't stop talking. So it was more than okay. I think the exact word you used was ‘perfect.’”

“I was fourteen. I didn’t know any better then.”

"Yeah, right. You dated him for like three months."

"Like I said—"

"Nope. Not buying it," I interrupt, popping more chips into my mouth.

"Fine. Believe whatever you want."

I pout. "It's not just that. Look at Angela Cornwell—she makes out with a different guy like every month. How does she do that?"

"So you want to be like her?"

"Heck, no. That sounds exhausting. I just need one kiss. That's it."

Well, one foot-popping kiss.

I only get one first kiss. So I have to make sure that it's perfect.

Maybe I should make a list when I get home? Like a list of boys that I think are good kissers? I have no idea how I can get even one of them to kiss me, but there's no harm in trying.

Whatever. I'll figure it out later.

Blowing out a breath, I turn my attention back to my best friend. "Anyway, what was it that you were telling me about?"

"Oh, that. Nothing important. I just heard that Conrad Harris finally dumped Shelby White. I was just wondering if you knew about that."

"I did not," I say absently, staring in the direction of the boy in question.

The breakup must be true. Because Shelby isn't sitting with Conrad and his friends, which she usually does during lunch. He doesn't seem broken up about it though—not even a little bit. He's even laughing with his friends.

Then again, Conrad Harris has always been more popular than Shelby. Girls are always lining up to be his girlfriend.

Honestly, I don't see the appeal.

I guess he's cute with his light blond hair and pale blue eyes, not to mention that dimple on his left cheek. And he's quite tall too.

But boys that look like him are a dime a dozen here. So why does he stand out?

"Must be the dimple," I mutter. Yeah, that must be it.

"What are you muttering about?" Iris demands.

"Nothing."

But I think I just found the first boy that'll go on my list.