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“What?” She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s have a bet. Whoever stays on the bull the longest has to…”
“Has to what?” she said.
“I know,” I said, looking around the bar. “Has to kiss a guy of the other person’s choosing.”
“What?” she said. “Really, Polly?”
“Yeah. That’ll be fun, right?”
“Oh my gosh. Fine. I know I’m going to win, so sure.”
“You only hope you’re going to win.”
“No, I’m going to win.” She laughed. “You better get some beers down you, Polly, because when I figure out which of these old men I want you to kiss, you’re going to want to run.”
“Oh no, my dear Chelsea. When I figure out who I want you to kiss, you’re going to be the one that wants to run.”
She laughed. “Oh my gosh. Are we going to do this?”
“I think we are,” I said. “We are the Campbell sisters, after all.”
“Can I put in one caveat?” she said quickly.
“What?”
“Can we get a say in who we might end up kissing?”
“Nope,” I said quickly, giggling. “You have no say.”
“But Polly…”
“What?” I said innocently.
“I know you’re going to pick the grossest man for me.”
“Now, why would you think that?” I was thinking about Oklahoma Grandpa or… My eyes caught a short man that was sitting in the corner, playing with his phone. “What about him?” I said, nodding to the man.
“He doesn’t look that bad,” she said.
“Oh, yeah?” She couldn’t see him from the same angle I could see him from. He turned to the side for some reason, and then she shuddered.
“Oh my God. He looks like Freddy Krueger.”
“Well, you could put that on your dating profile. Last guy I kissed? Freddie Krueger lookalike.”
“You’re horrible. You know what, Polly?”
“What?”
“If I win, I’m going to have you kiss someone so gross, you’re not going to speak to me for weeks.”
“You wish, sis,” I said, laughing.
The waitress came back over to us. “You girls had enough time to look in the menus and figure out what you want?”
“I would like to have a vodka Sprite, please,” Chelsea requested.
