“See?” I gloated to Jack, aware of time flying. Unable to remain still, I glanced at Max. “Are you getting another tattoo?”
“Where?” He held out arms riddled with striking ink. “Unless I take off my shirt, but that could tempt the artist, don’t you think?”
A choking sound had me glancing back to find Ila biting her lower lip to stop from smiling, her face flushed as she sprayed lemon juice to set the henna on the girl’s hand.
Max grinned and sat on the bench, facing us. “What the heck is that?” he pointed at the furry, neon-orange snake I cuddled. “You have something against koalas, pandas, hell, a teddy bear? That thing’s a nightmare.”
“Hey, don’t pick on my favorite toy—”
“You just got that,” Jack said from beside me.
“It’s my new favorite. I shall sleep with it.” I cast him a guileless smile.
Jack’s light eyes blazed silver at my baiting. I shouldn’t be flirting with him, that was heading into dangerous ground. Max shook his head but cut Jack a hard look. Totally wasted since his eyes were boring holes in my face.
“Jack,” my sister finally called out, breaking the tense air between us. “I’m ready.”
Jack shoved up his shades and grimaced, his displeased gaze back on me, no doubt for landing him in a tough spot he couldn’t escape. “Ila, let me write you a check—”
“Where’s the fun in that?” I demanded. “You said you wanted to experience the open-air festival. This is what you do. You get down and enjoy yourself, no matter how corny things are. You did get me the snake.”
“No, that thing is all on you,” he muttered, taking a seat opposite Ila.
“You still want the serpent design?” my sister asked him.
While he deliberated, I thrust the furry snake at him. Whoever made the slithery creature had probably been high on Prozac or something. “Here, hold my pet snake. In case you need inspiration. And don’t lose him, I’ve grown quite fond of Mr. Slithery.” I bit back my grin. “Anyhow, I have to go and check in with Mrs. Watts.”
Then I strolled away. Once I lost sight of Ila’s stall, I sprinted toward the kissing stand. The stitches on my ribs protested a little, but hey, at least I could jog now.
I made it to the booth with five minutes to spare, considering it was at the other side of the park, near the souvenir and wine stalls.
A blond girl I recognized, Jean something—she’d been a few years behind me in high school—currently worked the kissing booth. The guy on the other side of her, yup, knew him, too. Ila’s douche ex’s younger brother, Matthew Hayer. He was first year at the Arts Academy.
The moment Matt saw me, he did an exaggerated eye-roll, causing me to grin.
“Thank goodness you’re here, Rayen.” Mrs. Watts, a small, slender woman with silvery-white hair pulled in a topknot, appeared as if by magic at my side, a tablet in her hand. My former AP English teacher was still as spritely as ever, even though she’d retired from teaching.
“Here.” She handed me a new cash box, her gaze darting over the queue. Yep, she kept a strict eye on this particular stand so no shenanigans occurred. Sometimes, I wondered if she had eyes in the back of her head. “This booth always has the most…”
“Horny?”
She laughed, her bright blue eyes swinging my way. “I was going to say amorous lot, but your word will do. Well, dear, I’ll leave them in your capable hands—the impetuous rascal!” She shook her head at the teenager going in for the works for a ten-dollar kiss. Those were the risky ones.
But Jean pushed him off. “It’s closed-mouth, idiot.”
The gangly boy laughed out loud and gave a thumbs-up sign to his nerdy cronies waiting for him—for scoring with a senior the only way they knew how.
Dork. I snickered as he loped past me. Jean slipped my name into the name slot for the next person taking over, which indicated her end of the session.
The boy spun to me, croaked, “You’re on next?”
I wanted to say no. “Yup.”
His gaze widened, and he stared at my mouth. Then like a bee had stung him, he jerked around. “Guys. She’s next. And she has a tongue piercing!” He chortle-croaked to his friends, then grumbled, “Dammit, I must go to the end now.”
Aaaaand,they all lined up again. Wonderful.
A quick look down the queue at those I would be getting up close and personal with in a few minutes revealed that most were teen boys, a few older guys, and several older men, and a girl—okay, then. I made my way up the few steps to the girl’s section of the booth, casting a quick glance at the placard stating the price list.
