My First Kiss Tasted Like Peaches

Drunk at 3 a.m., he sent me “I like you” 972 times. Two weeks later, on my birthday, he deleted my contact in front of everyone: “It was a bet. Three months. Fake.” Olivia smiled beside him—she dared him to date me to prove his loyalty to her. Then transfer student Jackson arrived. Gave me his bus seat. Stepped in when guys harassed me. Ex begged with red eyes: “I almost finished 999 that night...” I took Jackson's hand: “My first kiss tasted like peaches. Nothing to do with you.”