Page 75 of The Life and (Medieval) Times of Kit Sweetly

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter.

Words are not enough to convey my disgust and rage, but the fun’s not done yet. My phone is nowhere to be found, since the contents shifted as I fell. Reaching into the straw, I sift through the wet straw and clumps of manure, hoping my fingers circle the phone.

Eventually, I find it—now slimy with who knows what—and swear again under my breath.

Righting myself, I wade through the mess, trying to get close enough to the edge of the dumpster so I can boost myself out. With each step, the straw shifts, making me sink even lower as my weight compacts it.

This. Is. My. Life.

How. Very. Not. According. To. Plan.

“Kit?”

Jett stands beside the back door, carrying my backpack. He carefully props the door open with a milk crate. The overhead light shines on his black hair, making it sort of gleam in a tremendously gorgeous way.

For a moment, I consider staying in the dumpster until he goes back inside. But my car keys are in the bag, and I need them to flee home before anyone else can see—or smell—me.

“I’m over here,” I call out.

I stash my phone under my armpit as I scramble out of the straw and try to haul myself over the side of the dumpster.

If looks were lightning, then Jett just got struck. His jaw drops and his eyes bulge in his head. “Do I even want to know what you’re doing in the dumpster?” He offers me a hand. I take it and he helps me over the inside lid.

“I’m swimming!” I snap as I land on the pavement and shake myself off. “I threw my phone in there, and then wanted to see if I could get it while doing a swan dive.”

I can’t help the bitchy tone of my voice. It’s been a long, long day. And the last thing I wanted was for Jett to see me neck deep in grime, but there you have it.

A huge laugh bursts out of him. “I’m sorry,” he says, covering his mouth. “I don’t mean to laugh.”

“Yeah, ha-ha. It’s hysterical. I know. Stupid Kit jumped in the dumpster. Stupid Kit tried to do something right for everyone at the Castle. Stupid Kit tried to actually get her life on track and get a scholarship, but she failed and now she’s covered head to toe in horse manure—”

Before I can keep ranting, Jett pulls me into a hug. It’s so sudden, and unexpected, I stop talking.

“You really don’t want to hug me,” I say, as I nuzzle my face into the hollow of his neck.

“I really do,” he whispers into my hair. “I’m sorry you’re having a shitty day.”

I snort, but don’t let go.

“Well, okay then,” I whisper, hugging him back. My fingers curl into his back and I inhale the scent of him gratefully. “Thank you for bringing my stuff out here.”

“Anytime. Happy to rescue the Girl Knight.”

“You didn’t rescue me,” I point out, tilting my head up to look at him. “I could have gotten out of there. You just brought me my—”

His lips are so close. So full. And so tempting. I lean up, standing on my tiptoes. His hand rests on the small of my back. Some part of my brain screams that I shouldn’t, but I dive across that invisible barrier. My eyes close. I push my mouth against his gently. His lips open under mine—

“What’re you doing?” He pulls away from me with a jerk.

Oh no.

I didn’t just kiss Jett.

Did I?

Yes. I did.

And apparently he hated it if the wide-eyed look he’s giving me is any indication.