Caught

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Authors: Erika Ashby,A. E. Woodward

BOOK: Caught
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Caught

A New Adult Novel by

 

Erika Ashby

&

A.E. Woodward

CAUGHT

 

Copyright © 2015 by Erika Ashby & A.E. Woodward

Cover Design by
Perfect Pear Creative Covers

Image from PerryWinkle Photography

& Toski Covey Photography

Editing by KMS Freelance Editing

 

All rights reserved.

 

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

 

Table of Contents

Dictionary of Quinnisms

1. Top of the 1
st

2. Bottom of the 1
st

3. Top of the 2
nd

4. Bottom of the 2
nd

5. Top of the 3
rd

6. Bottom of the 3
rd

7. Top of the 4
th

8. Bottom of the 4
th

9. Top of the 5
th

10. Bottom of the 5
th

11. Top of the 6
th

12. Bottom of the 6
th

13. 7
th
Inning Stretch

14. 7
th
Inning Stretch Part ll

15. Top of the 7
th

16. Bottom of the 7
th

17. Top of the 8
th

18. Bottom of the 8
th

19. Top of the 9
th

20. Bottom of the 9
th

21. Whole New Ball Game: Top of the 1
st

22. Bottom of the 1
st

23. Top of the 2
nd

24. Bottom of the 2
nd

25. Top of the 3
rd

26. Bottom of the 3
rd

27. Top of the 4
th

28. Bottom of the 4
th

29. Top of the 5
th

30. Bottom of the 5
th

31. Top of the 6
th

32. Bottom of the 6
th

33. Top of the 7
th

34. Bottom of the 7
th

35. Top of the 8
th

36. Bottom of the 8
th

37. Top of the 9
th

38. Bottom of the 9
th

39. Game Over

Acknowledgements

Dictionary of Quinnisms

Askhole: a person who asks endless stupid, pointless questions.  

 

Bish:  Like bitch but more acceptable to use in front of uptight adults.  

 

Chesticles: When a dude works out so much that his testicles migrate to his pecks.  
 

 

Chinese Fingertrap:  Uncircumcised penis.  

 

Cocknugget: Idiot….Quinnonym: Douchecanoe

 

Craydar: The radar used in order to detect a female’s craziness.

 

Cringe attack: feeling massively ashamed of your actions until the point of feeling like you’re having a heart attack.  It is followed up with more feelings of shame and awkwardness.

 

Decivious: A deceitful and devious mastermind.

 

Dicknose….Quinnonym: cockface

 

Frack: A more appropriate version of fuck.

 

Handy:  A lame ass hand job.

 

Heart On:  It’s like a hard on, but with feelings and shit.  Usually very messy.

 

Labia Mouth: A person who has a vagina for a mouth.  This can be for a multitude of reasons, whether a whore or just a vagina mouth.  Quinnonym: Vagina Lips

 

Mouth Hug: Better known as a blowjob.

 

Panis: The dreaded belly overhang.

 

PeepTensh: The uh oh feeling in your vagina when you get excited.  Not to be confused with a lady boner, this is just a little tingle. 

 

Quinnonym: Clit Wiggles.

 

Pluto Booty:  A butt so small that some consider it nonexistent.

 

Rog: Awkward half run, half jog move.

 

Romantical: A smart ass term for romance.

 

Shmammered: When you’ve drank so much that you can’t say anything without putting the ‘sh’ sound in front.

 

Smellfie: To discreetly sniff one’s underarms before venturing out in public. 

 

Snatchity:  A witty, mean, rude bitch.

 

Stabbity: When one is so pissed they are constantly fighting the urge to stab other human beings.

 

Twatwaffle:  A general insult for a super big idiot.

 

Uncunted: The brief moment before someone loses their shit.  

 

Wackaloon: a nut job.

Top of the 1
st

Chace

 

Graduation has got to be the dumbest thing on earth.  Cue the pomp and circumstance.  None of us really give a shit about wearing a cap and gown while grabbing a piece of paper that symbolizes the end of an era.  All we really care about is the after parties and getting the hell out of the misery they call high school.

It has to be at least a hundred degrees today.  The sun beats down on me and a small bead of sweat drips down my back, rolling down my ass crack.  Awesome, I officially have swamp ass.  The ceremony drags on and I’m thankful when they finally get to the good stuff.

“At this time I’d like to invite this year’s Valedictorian to the stage.  Ladies and gentleman, please help me in welcoming, Finley Wescott.”

Finally having something spike my interest, I look up just in time to watch Finley make her way to the stage.  With her face lit up, her golden hair catches the sunlight and makes her look even more beautiful than she actually is.  If that’s even possible.  I can still remember the first day she showed up at school.  There has never been another girl like her, and the minute she walked through those doors, I wanted to make her mine.  Lucky for me, Quinn had managed to make friends with Finley, and there was my in.  The rest was history. 

“Good afternoon,” she says before launching into her eloquent speech that I have already heard a hundred times.  I could probably repeat it verbatim from listening to it so much.  Finley had been practicing for the last few weeks while we lay in my bed together.  The memories creep in and a smile spreads across my face while my mind wanders to the last few weeks and the amount of time we have been able to spend in my bed. 

Finley manages to deliver her speech flawlessly and once she finishes they start in with the grand finale.  The real reason we all show up on graduation day – the passing out of the diplomas.  I focus on listening to the names of my classmates being called across the stage.  I don’t know most of them, so it makes maintaining my attention difficult.

“Quinn Bates,” Mr. Banks, my principal, calls out.  His voice echoes through the stadium, and I immediately place my fingers beneath my tongue and whistle. 

“Go, Quinn!” I holler, watching her confidently walk across the stage.  Quinn has been by my side since kindergarten, and I can’t believe that we’re going to be apart next year.  Pushing my negative thought aside, I manage to force a smile.  Today is about our accomplishments.  Not about the shit that’s about to change.  With a smile plastered on my face, I look on as my childhood friend grabs her diploma.  Shaking hands with Mr. Banks, her eyes search the rows of our peers in front of the stage.  This was our cue.  Looking behind me, a few rows back, I spot Finley, my beautiful girlfriend and Quinn’s best friend.  I give her a quick nod before we both raise our hands up in the air.  Quinn immediately notices and mirrors our symbol of solidarity before exiting the stage and allowing the ceremony to continue.

It drags on.  And on.  Name after name of people I don’t particularly care for are being called out while I watch on, waiting for my turn.  Eventually my row stands and walks the short distance to the stage stairs.  I’m humming with anticipation.  Not for the piece of paper, but for the party at the lake later.  Every year we attend the big blow out senior party, but this year it’s our turn, and we are going to do it up big. 

I shift my weight from one foot to the other while I wait in line, desperate to just be done with it already.  Each step bringing me closer to the freedom I’ve been waiting for.

“Chace Donahue.”  

The cheers grow a little louder as I step onto the stage.  While I don’t particularly care for many people, people care about me.  Especially since I had just led the baseball to the State Championship. I can’t help but grin at the sounds of the crowd.  It’s infectious. 

“Congratulations, Chace,” Mr. Banks says, shaking my hand.

I place my hand on the diploma and turn to smile at the crowd, knowing that my mom will be trying to snap a picture.  Holding still for a few seconds, I turn back towards him.  “Thank you, sir.”  I go to release his hand, but Mr. Banks tightens his grip.

He continues to shake my hand long past the appropriate amount of time that had been spent on all the other graduates.  “We sure are going to miss that arm of yours next year.”

Unsure of what to say, my face scans the crowd for Finley, who’s laughing in her seat.  I just shrug upon making eye contact with her and mumble a final thank you to Mr. Banks.  He drops his hand and continues on with calling off names.

I watch on as a few of my other friends grab their diplomas.  Greg, one of my closest friends, was the next to be called.  In his typical party boy fashion, he whoops it up on stage big time before eventually doing a backflip off the front of it.  I can tell that the administration is horrified, but what are they going to do about it now?  He already has his diploma in hand.  He’s free.

Finley’s the last to be called, taking a whole new meaning to saving the best for last.  She hastily walks across the stage and grabs her diploma before taking off her cap and tossing it into the air.  It’s what we had all been waiting for, and all 175 classmen, myself included, follow suit.

              Already on our feet, classmates start milling about.  Finding their friends and families, the stadium is buzzing with excited conversation.  I push my way past a few people heading out to find Finley and Quinn.  I want to get the rest of this family bullshit out of the way…because the three of us are about to embark on the summer of our lives.

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