On the Flip Side by Nikki Carter Read Free Book Online Page A

Oh my goodness! My mother always told me to always buy my own drink and never set it down. Number-one rule of going to parties with strangers. Number two, leave with who I came there with. Sam needs to go to the Shawn Tolliver school of kicking it.
    â€œYou should be glad you didn’t get hurt. I’m glad nothing happened to you,” I say. “Next time, you should be more careful with your drink!”
    â€œWell ... I wouldn’t say that nothing happened.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    Sam clears his throat. A stall tactic.
    â€œWhat do you mean, Sam?” I ask again, this time my tone of voice a little louder and harsher.
    â€œZac told me that I made out with a girl on the dance floor.”
    I drop the phone. Hear the screen on my Android shatter, but I don’t care.
    After I take a deep breath and blow it out, I pick up the wounded phone. “Come again?”
    â€œDon’t make me say it again, Sunday. It was hard enough to say it the first time.”
    â€œCome again? ”
    â€œI kissed a girl. Don’t know who she was or her name. Zac said I should tell you, because there was someone there taking pictures and it’ll probably be on the Internet.”
    â€œZac told you to tell me? You didn’t think that was information I’d like to know? You’re all the way in New York City, playing tonsil Twister with some skank, and Zac had to tell you to man up and let me know?”
    â€œSunday. You are overreacting. I can’t even tell you what the chick looks like.”
    â€œBut everyone on Mediatakeout.com will know tomorrow. You know they get like a million hits a day?”
    I press end on my shattered screen. I can’t listen to his voice another minute. How can he say that I’m overreacting? He would sooo not be saying that if the shoe was on the other foot. I know, because we’ve already been down this path when Truth was trying to push up on me. I wasn’t giving Truth any play, but Sam still went into trip-out mode.
    Sam calls right back. I don’t answer. I click decline and send that joint to voice mail. Do not want to continue this conversation.
    Two seconds later he calls again. I do the same thing.
    On the third time, I pick up.
    â€œSam, do not keep calling me.”
    â€œI’m gonna keep calling until you talk to me.”
    â€œThen I’ma have to block your number.”
    â€œDon’t block my number.”
    â€œThen don’t keep calling me.”
    I hear Sam sigh. He doesn’t have the right to sigh. After a few moments of silence and breathing, I disconnect the call again.
    I’m beyond angry. Trying to feel this with an emotion other than rage and I’m coming up short. Even though I know he didn’t do it on purpose. Even though the girl is some faceless, nameless groupie. Well, she’s faceless and nameless now. She won’t be tomorrow or the next day when someone decides to put Sam on blast to the Internet community.
    Somebody right now is probably saying, “Tweet that” on a picture of Sam lip-locked on the dance floor. It makes me sick to my stomach. I swear, technology is a blessing and a curse.
    I try to compose myself before going back downstairs, but I’m sure Dreya and Big D are going to know something is up immediately. Why didn’t Sam wait to tell me this when I got back to the privacy of my dorm? He wanted to clear his conscience, I suppose, but now he’s gonna have me answering questions that I don’t want to answer.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with you?” Dreya asks as I reenter the basement studio area.
    â€œNothing. I’m straight.”
    Big D says, “You are definitely not straight, but I know better than to press you when you’re not trying to talk about something.”
    â€œOoh, what did Sam do?” Dreya asks, ignoring Big D’s declaration. “Did he break up with you for some New York video vixen? Do we need to