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“She’s still asleep,” she said with a nod toward the bedroom. She winced ever so slightly. “Should we leave her a note?”
“Well, some of us have things to do. And I’m hoping that Annie’s bakery cart will be open at the fair so I can carb-binge before I have to kiss the world and his mother.” I tossed my trusty red lipstick in my purse and looked at the coffee table. “Should we leave her a note?”
“Already done.” She produced a piece of paper with tape already affixed to the top and pressed it to the fridge.
Ava, we’ve gone to be productive members of society. Be a doll and clean up, since the whole night was your idea. Hugs and kisses. XOXO
I clapped my hand over my mouth to hide the bark of a laugh that exploded out of me.
Technically, it was her idea. It was what she said she’d be doing if she hadn’t been at my place, so…
Reagan and I left my house, leaving the door locked behind us. She waved as she got into her car and pulled out, and I returned the gesture until she disappeared from view.
I didn’t live too far from the park where the fair was, so I opted to walk instead. The fresh air would surely do me some good, and I wasn’t entirely sure that I was confident driving.
There was a lot of margaritas last night.
Despite the warmth that was already beating down on me thanks to the morning sun, I turned in the direction of the fair and started walking. It was around ten-thirty, and I waved at a few neighbors as they drove past me. I exchanged pleasantries with Mrs. Hebert, who was watering her rose bushes in her front yard right before I turned off from the street and walked onto the main road that would take me to the booth.
I ducked my head down so that nobody else would talk to me. I wasn’t feeling up to talking to people today.
My head still hurt.
I really had to become a responsible adult at some point before my next birthday.
I blew out a long breath. My mind tracked back to yesterday, to the bet I’d made with Preston. It’d been a terrible idea since the moment he’d proposed it, but I couldn’t resist a bet. I blamed Ava and Reagan for it since we’d been betting with each other for years—we’d bet suckers in elementary school, scented gel pens in middle school, makeup in high school, and money ever since.
Not once had we ever bet a kiss.
Our feelings for the opponent notwithstanding.
I’d gotten away with it, though. Only just. Surely. There was no denying it; I’d outsmarted the bet, and I was damn glad I’d won.
What would I have done if he’d won?
What if he’d actually kissed me?
It was a scenario I’d all but put out of my mind since I’d run out of the booth last night. My quick, late-night visit to the bank had occupied my attention until my best friends had shown up on my doorstep with margarita fixings and distracted me.
I’d happily forgotten that I now had to spend the day with Preston.
What did he think about how I’d skirted around the kiss?
Did he think I did it because I didn’t want to kiss him?
Did he think I did it because I wasn’t exactly a dater?
Did he think I did it because I was trying to not make it awkward?
God, I hoped it was the last one. That was the most accurate one. Kissing Preston would be nothing short of absolutely, totally, completely, utterly, wholly awkward.
Worse than showing up to a school presentation in yesterday’s underwear.
We’d all had those dreams.
I meandered down the street. I was in no hurry to get the booth since there was more than enough time before it opened. In fact, I was probably trying to ignore it.
If I went to the booth, I’d see Preston.
Reagan’s comment last night about him having a crush on me had stuck. I felt like a teenage girl wondering if the cute boy in math class liked me.
She had a point, and I hated to admit it. I didn’t like Preston because it was easier to avoid him than to admit that I had feelings for him.
He wasn’t all that bad. He was handsome, thoughtful, and he was smart enough not to be swayed by the people in this town who looked at him and saw dollar signs.
Believe it or not, that was really quite attractive.
More than that, he made me laugh.
I hid that a lot. I didn’t want anyone to know how I felt about him—and I especially didn’t want him to know.
Maybe I was just making up excuses to pass the time at this point.
I didn’t have to justify why I felt the way I did about someone.
