It was a stupid attraction. Halley could barely stand me, and the feeling was more than mutual. She was perfect—she was more than goddamn perfect; she was too perfect.
The mayor’s daughter, the kissing booth champion, the resident raccoon savior. My sister’s best friend since they were six years old.
A part of me wanted to scrub away at Halley’s outer shell. There had to be something that was wrong with her. Nobody was that beautiful and smart and kind—there had to be an issue somewhere. She had to have this really bad, really horrible habit like biting her toenails or picking her nose and eating it.
Otherwise, I had to wonder why the hell she was single.
Surely it wasn’t just because of the raccoons. It was a little weird, but people left food out for birds and squirrels. Granted, they didn’t make them sandwiches, but it’s basically the same thing.
I put the paintbrush on top of the can and sat back, reaching for my bottle of water. It was lunchtime and it was hot and humid outside, and the regret for ultimately agreeing to this was already creeping in.
I wasn’t used to being outside for hours in this heat. I was used to either working in the store where there was air conditioning or from my apartment where, again, there was air conditioning.
Now, I’d committed to being basically outside all day long for a week.
It was going to be a nightmare.
I turned at the sound of a huffing breath. Halley stomped into the tent, shoving one of the curtains out of her way. Her short, blonde hair swung around her face until some of it got caught on her shiny, red lips.
She reached up and pulled the hair away before she froze and looked at me. “Why are you staring at me?”
“I’m not staring. I’m wondering who shoved a stick up your ass.”
She pursed her lips and put down the Styrofoam cup she was holding. “Careful, or I’ll pull it out and put it up yours.”
I grinned. “I finished the sign.”
She walked over and crouched down next to me. “Not bad. You’re not being displayed in any museums anytime soon, though.”
“I don’t think anyone wants to look at a small town’s kissing booth sign in the Louvre.”
“You’re right. Not that one, anyway.” Her lips tugged up to the side as she pushed up to standing. “Can you help me put these posts out? They’re pretty heavy.”
“Sure. I thought Stephen was gonna help when he brought them over?”
“He was, but he had to run. My mom needed him for something or another.” She went over to the first goldy-bronzey colored post and dragged it across the grass.
I grabbed two of the posts and pulled them after her. “Where do you want these?”
She turned and motioned as she spoke. “We need to create both an entry and an exit line to each side of the booths. So one line down the very middle of the tent to separate them, then one down the middle of each section. People come in on the left side, step onto the platform, donate, kiss, then leave on the right side.”
“I’m sure that’s a lot simpler than it sounds.” I put my two posts in the very middle of the room.
“Does it sound complicated?” She looked at me with one eyebrow raised. “It’s literally three lines of posts at equal distances.”
“See, if you’d said that from the start, I wouldn’t have had a flash mob going on in my mind.”
“Preston, it’s not rocket science. Just set out the damn posts before I give up and do it myself.”
“Can you move all these by yourself?”
Halley paused. “I can move them. I’ll bitch and complain the whole time, but I can.”
Laughing, I grabbed another two and pulled them into place. “No wonder you and Reagan and Ava have been friends as long as you have. You’re all exactly the same.”
She rolled her eyes and moved my posts into their correct places. “We’re not exactly the same. They make stupid bets they can’t win, for a start.”
“You’ve been making those bets for years.”
“Yeah, but I win mine. They don’t.” She shrugged and moved with me as I dragged two more posts. “The only time one of them ever wins is if they bet against each other, and they only do that when I’m involved. Like when they bet on whether I’d win this year or not.”
“You won’t.”
“Because of your harem, I know.”
I swore she rolled her eyes again, but she turned just in time. “If you keep rolling your eyes at me, you’ll give yourself a migraine.”
“I’ll make sure I buy stock in ibuprofen to get through this week, then.”
“Or just don’t roll your eyes.”
“Why would I do that? It’s the perfect way to spare your feelings while still telling you that you’re annoying me.”
“You care about my feelings?”
“Not particularly, but I do have a reputation to uphold. Plus, last I knew, you didn’t have feelings. You just had a lot of opinions.”
I fought a smile. “As opposed to you, who has no opinions.”
“I have opinions.” She gave a careless shrug of her shoulder and pushed her glasses up her nose. “I think math is dumb and bugs are gross. I like wine and hot dogs and cotton candy and watching Netflix for six hours without getting out of my pajamas.”
“How are all of those things opinions?”
“Some people don’t like wine or hot dogs or cotton candy. Other people might think that watching Netflix for six hours in your pajamas is a bad idea. They’re also wrong, for what it’s worth.”
“And that’s also your opinion.”
“Probably more people agree than disagree, and majority rules and all that.” She clipped the first rope on one of the poles and tossed me some. “Get started over there when you’re done.”
“Yes, boss.” I threw the ropes to the other side of the tent since it wasn’t far and grabbed two more poles. “But to circle back, you’re wrong. I do have feelings.”
“Feelings inside your pants don’t count, Preston.”
I snorted. “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t do one-night stands?”
“Until it sounds believable.”
“You’re never going to believe me.”
“Probably not.” She peered at me over the rim of her glasses. “But I think it’d be fun to make you try to convince me.”
“Why do you care?”
“Kids come to this kissing booth. I don’t need them seeing a bunch of women trying to turn you on while kissing you.” She clipped the final rope of her side into place.
“You care a lot for someone who doesn’t like me.”
She turned her head, offering me a withering look. “Look, Preston, this isn’t going to work if we’re just going to fight the entire time.”
“Who’s fighting? I’m not fighting with you. You’re the one with the stick so far up your ass it’s coming out of your ears.” I snapped one of the ropes in place. “And you’re taking it out on me.”
There was silence for a minute before she sighed. “Sorry. It’s been a rough afternoon.” She dipped her head, and her short hair covered her face before she reached up and pushed it behind her ear. “Your sign doesn’t look that bad, by the way.”