Kiss Me Not

by Hart, Emma

  My sister ate like a man.

  I opened my box and pulled out a slice.

  “So. How goes the kissing booth?” Reagan asked.

  “Why don’t you ask your best friend?”

  “I did. There was a lot of cussing plus a demand that I fuck off.”

  “That sounds like Halley.”

  “Uh-huh.” She shoved the crust into her mouth and nodded. When she finished, she said, “You look like someone beat you with a twelve-inch dildo.”

  “Reagan.”

  “What?

  “Can you reign it in tonight?”

  “No. I’m not a horse rider. Can you pull your dick from your ass and I don’t know, fucking smile?”

  “Can you shut your fucking mouth?”

  She grinned, folding another slice of pizza in half before shoving it in her mouth again.

  Well, technically, she did what I asked.

  “I know what you’re fishing for, and I’m not going to give you what you think you want.”

  “I know what I want. I want a six-foot-two firefighter with a tattoo sleeve and a rescue chihuahua,” she replied. “I don’t want a basket full of catfish I’ll have to ship to Louisiana for a catfish sub.”

  “You’re getting off-topic.”

  “We were never on-topic.”

  “There never was a topic.”

  She got up and pulled two beers from the fridge. She twisted the caps on both and handed me one before sitting back down. “Look, I know you’re attracted to Halley.”

  “I’m attracted to half the women in this town.”

  “And I’m attracted to this pizza, but I don’t want to fuck the crust into next week.”

  “Reagan.”

  “I get the inappropriate streak from Aunt Karen, okay?”

  “And Mom. And Grandma.” I put my beer down and grabbed a pizza slice. “But I’m not giving you what you want. I know you have this weird idea about me dating Halley, but it’s not going to happen. There’s nothing there.”

  She rolled her eyes. “There’s something there, Preston. I see the way you look at her. She’s the reason you don’t do one-night stands.”

  “You need to lay off Netflix. All those romance movies are scrambling your brain.”

  “Pres—”

  “No, Reagan. And before you start, I’m not going to date Ava either. There are already enough insane women in our family without adding either of your best friends.” I hit her with a hard look. “No. Forget about it.”

  She sank back into her chair with a huff. “Fine. I’ll forget about it.”

  CHAPTER FIVE – HALLEY

  Who Needs Family When You Have Friends?

  “You could have told me.” I pushed the dishwasher closed, and it spurred to life. “I can’t believe you didn’t answer my calls. Actually, I know why you didn’t answer my calls—it’s because you knew I’d be mad.”

  My dad sipped his glass of red wine and stared at me. “Are you done?”

  “For now. I might call you to whine again tomorrow.”

  “I will make sure not to answer.” He put his glass down and scratched his neck. “Look, we got to last week and nobody had put themselves forward. I put a call out to the family members of those who work in the council, but nobody answered.”

  “So you thought you’d ask Preston Wright of all people?”

  Dad hesitated for a second. “I called Robert,” he said, referring to Preston and Reagan’s dad. “I asked him if either of the kids were doing the fair, and when he said no, I asked if they’d like to do the booth.”

  “Reagan refused.”

  “As I assumed she would. She has to man the store while Robert and Joanna do the fair. Preston took a few days to think about it and only said yes two days ago.” He picked his wine glass back up with a shrug. “I was going to call you, but then we had a crisis at the office so I didn’t get a chance. Why are you so bothered, anyway? I thought you’d relish the thought of having some real competition.”

  “Because she loooooves him,” my stepmom, Abigail, sang as she joined us in the kitchen, fresh from the shower. She rubbed her dark, wet hair with a towel and grinned in my direction. “Right, Halley?”

  It was always jarring to see my usually impeccably-put-together stepmother without her makeup and lovely clothes, but it didn’t straight-up shock me anymore. “Wrong. I do not love Preston. I barely even like him—I tolerate him because he’s Reagan’s brother, but no. You’re wrong.”

  She took the glass of wine my dad handed her and tossed the towel over her shoulder. “I’m not wrong. You have a crush on him.”

  “Even if I did, it wouldn’t be something I’d discuss in front of my dad,” I said firmly, shooting her a look.

  Here’s the thing: we’ve always gotten along. She’s always been closer to a fun aunt than a stepmom, but I guess that’s the perk of being a stepmom.

  Abigail also knew exactly how I felt about Preston, and now I was really, really regretting telling her.

  She twisted her back to my dad and gave me an overexaggerated wink. “Honey, the message light on the phone in your office is blinking.”

  Dad muttered something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like, “Can’t even eat fucking dinner with my family,” and left us alone in the kitchen.

  I pursed my lips at Abigail. “Can you not do that when he’s around? This is a problem, Abigail. I’m in trouble.”

  She rolled her eyes and sat down at the expansive island that spread across the middle of the kitchen. “You’re not in trouble. You’re being dramatic.”

  “I am so in trouble.” I walked over and leaned over, resting on my elbows while still keeping hold of my glass. “He’s going to sit there on the other side of the curtain, kissing other women, and I have to listen to that.”

  “You’re forgetting a fundamental part of the situation.”

  “Which is?”

  “You’re kissing other men.”

  I paused. “Yes, but I’m used to kissing other men. Have you seen the women interested in Preston? They’re tall and skinny and beautiful and perfect and—”

  “Oh, my God, Halley.” Abigail finished the rest of her wine and got the bottle from the fridge before she filled both of our glasses. “Who cares what they look like? You have got to stop comparing yourself to other people. Yes, the girls who like Preston might be tall and skinny and beautiful perfect in your opinion, but that doesn’t mean you’re right. They aren’t you. Being you is your superpower. Embrace it.”

  I pursed my lips. “This is The Talk, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it’s The Talk. Clearly, nobody else is giving it to you.”

  I said nothing. We both knew that for all of my mother’s excellent qualities, knocking sense into me wasn’t something she’d ever found time for. “Fine. Go ahead.”

  Abigail sat down and leaned over the island. “It doesn’t matter about anyone else. Who cares if he’s kissing girls like that? If he wants them over you, then he’s a fool. Any guy is. But until you start seeing yourself for the catch you are, nobody else is going to see it.”

  I sighed. “Yes, everyone in town wants to date the mayor’s librarian daughter who has to put peanut butter sandwiches out for raccoons.”

  “You don’t have to put the sandwiches out.”

  “No, I do. They’re attracted to my trash. Like kids to candy.”

  Her lips twitched. “Remember this: Preston Wright is not the only man in the universe. There is no easy way to date your best friend’s brother. Save yourself the trouble.” She winked and sipped from her glass. “And one day, you’ll find the person who accepts you. Raccoons and all.”

  “That doesn’t change that I have to see Preston every day. Or listen to him kissing other women.”

  “Halley, you’re forgetting one important thing. It’s all for charity. It doesn’t matter if he’s there doing it. It doesn’t mean anything, and you’ve seen him date other women. You won’t be sitting and watching him k
iss other people. All you have to do is shut it off and do what you’re there to do. And beat his ass.”

  I snorted wine up my nose. “You’re right. I’m freaking out over something I have no control over. This is ridiculous.”

  “Ah, you’re your father’s daughter. He freaks out about everything. Yesterday, he had a minor meltdown over the mailbox being creaky. I went out there with some oil and, what do you know? No more creaks.” Abigail shrugged.

  “Well, someone in this family has to have a level head.”

  She winked. “That’s why I’m here, darlin’.”

  I smiled and finished my wine. “Okay, I’m gonna head home. There’s some stuff to do tomorrow for the kissing booth, and I need to make sure that we get the flyers distributed for the tourists. Tell Dad I said bye.” I hugged her tightly, grabbed my things, and waved as I left.

  The evening air wasn’t too hot, but it was warm enough that I still felt the trickle of sweat as it made its way down my back. Thankfully, I didn’t live too far from my dad’s house, so I was home in ten minutes, right as darkness began creeping over the town.

  Golden hues coated the lower half of the sky, and the sun’s late rays beamed through my windows as I let myself in. I winced as it hit me right in the eye, but I dipped my head and ducked into the kitchen out of reach of the brightness.

  A glance out of my back door showed me that my resident trash pandas hadn’t woken up and started causing havoc yet, so I used some initiative and pulled bread and peanut butter out of my cupboard.

  I fixed several sandwiches and cut them into squares before carrying them out onto my porch on a plate. Four bowls were built into the decking thanks to Stephen, and they were glued in tight to battle against the light-fingered Boris, the daddy raccoon.

  I put the sandwiches in the bowl, filled the one for water, and went back inside.

  I dropped myself onto my sofa in the living room and turned on the TV. A murder mystery documentary immediately played on the Crime + Investigation channel, but it was almost over, so I scrolled through the TV guide.

  There was absolutely nothing on.

  Why the hell did I pay for this shit? I had Netflix and Hulu. Wasn’t that enough?

  I scrolled through them both until I eventually settled on sighing and turning on Gilmore Girls. There was something comforting in watching one of your favorite shows over and over again.

  I lay back and repositioned the cushions so I was comfortable. It was the episode where Rory and Dean got together, and I couldn’t help but tut my disapproval. That was because I knew what happened and, well, I liked to judge fictional characters who did things that I disapproved of.

  I was worthy of being judged myself—hello, my little hissy fit about Preston being my competition? That was ridiculous and pathetic, and it was a miracle nobody had slapped me for it.

  If Ava and Reagan had seen the full extent of it, they would have.

  My phone beeped on the table, and I reached over to grab it. A message from Ava was on the screen, so I unlocked my phone and opened it.

  AVA: All the girls at this damn bar are talking about how they finally get to make out with Preston at the fair.

  I wrinkled my face up in disgust. This was the thing I’d been frustrated about.

  ME: They do know there are rules, don’t they? It’s not a make-out contest.

  AVA: Someone tried telling them that, but they didn’t listen. I think they all have hair appointments on Monday.

  AVA: Some of them might even be getting their nails done.

  ME: It’s a kissing booth, not a dating show.

  AVA: Tell them that. They all think it’s a chance to convince Preston he’s madly in love with them.

  ME: Does nobody here have anything better to do with their lives?

  AVA: No.

  AVA: It’s not like there are a bunch of options in this town. Preston is young, hot af, and loaded. He’s a prime catch.

  ME: He’s also insanely annoying, cocky, and a pain in the ass.

  AVA: That’s just how you feel about him.

  ME: My feelings are usually right.

  AVA: In your opinion.

  ME: My opinions are usually right.

  AVA: How are your raccoons?

  ME: Presumably eating the sandwiches I left for them.

  AVA: And you still think you’re a good judge of character?

  ME: I’m an excellent judge of character. They don’t rummage through my trash anymore, do they? I’m a genius.

  AVA: You have issues.

  ME: Given that I run the library, I have lots of issues. Mostly of books.

  REAGAN: What the fuck are you two talking about?

  It was always nice when she popped into the group chat without reading the messages before.

  ME: How many girls are going to suck face with your brother and seduce him in the next week.

  REAGAN: I already bet that you’d lose, Hals.

  AVA: SHE ISN’T GOING TO LOSE, REAGAN, YOU FAITHLESS BITCH.

  REAGAN: Look, I’m usually all for Halley winning, but against my brother? Come on. Every single 20-something woman and a few 30-somethings have their eye on him. They’re going to be camping out the night before to kiss him first.

  ME: Can we argue this tomorrow? I’m watching Gilmore Girls and I need to judge Rory for all her life choices. It’s hard when y’all are judging me.

  AVA: She gets with Dean?

  ME: Yeah.

  REAGAN: She doesn’t know he’s married.

  ME: It doesn’t excuse her behavior in the reboot, Reagan.

  REAGAN: This is why you aren’t allowed to watch reboots.

  ME: I have strong feelings.

  AVA: Yeah, for Preston.

  ME: Hey, Ava, how’s Butler?

  REAGAN: LOLOLOL

  AVA: I don’t know, I haven’t spoken to him tonight. He’s busy.

  ME: It’s like talking to a donut.

  REAGAN: Don’t insult donuts.

  AVA: I know what you’re asking, idiots. I’m choosing not to rise to the bait. I’m not a fish.

  ME: Whatever.

  AVA: We all know it’s just so you don’t have to address your feelings for Preston.

  ME: It’s a crush. That’s all. I can be attracted to an attractive man and still dislike him.

  REAGAN: It’s true. But after nine years of a crush, I don’t think you can use that excuse anymore.

  ME: It’s way more fun to judge people than it is to be judged.

  AVA: We’re not judging you.

  REAGAN: I’m totally judging you.

  ME: I want new best friends. You should be supporting me through this difficult time.

  AVA: …He’s your competition. He didn’t die in unexpected circumstances.

  REAGAN: You don’t want new best friends. They couldn’t put up with your shit.

  ME: I don’t want to listen to him kissing other people!!!!!!

  And there it was. The real admission that I didn’t want to hear it happening. They didn’t really need me to say it, but I know they wanted me to. Just because they were pains in the damn ass.

  REAGAN: Of course you don’t want to hear him kissing other women. Especially not the kind of women who’ll be lining up to kiss him.

  AVA: I wouldn’t want to hear them, either. I hate the sound of people kissing. All those slurpy little tongue-slapping sounds aren’t my jam.

  ME: Yeah, but you listen to classical music for fun. Not to relax, but for fun.

  AVA: We aren’t all punk-rock heathens.

  ME: I haven’t listened to punk-rock since I was sixteen.

  REAGAN: You’re boring me now. I’m going to take a shower. Bye.

  AVA: She’s… special.

  ME: We’re all special, Ava. That’s why we’re friends. That’s how this works.

  AVA: I want new friends.

  ME: Nobody wants us. I just said that.

  AVA: Right. Well, I’ll put out some feelers online, just in case.

  ME
: You do that, babe.

  AVA: So… Brunch tomorrow?

  ME: See you at Dana’s at ten.

  CHAPTER SIX – HALLEY

  Funfairs Aren’t Always Fun

  The booth was done.

  It felt surreal. I couldn’t believe that the fair was finally opening tonight and that the booth was ready to go.

  Mostly because I hadn’t seen Preston for almost two days. Ever since he’d gotten done with the sign and helping me put out the posts, he’d disappeared, and I hadn’t heard from him at all.

  I was torn. On the one hand, I was happy about that. The less time I had to spend with him, the better. It was going to be a rough week as it was, and Sunday was a dreadful day to start a summer fair.

  Mostly because the first wave of people coming in were the people who’d spent their morning at church. We’d see the grandmas and the grandpas and the middle-aged folk who swore allegiance to Jesus but used the weekly Bingo night to flash their friskiness.

  Which meant—oh, God, it meant that I’d be kissing wrinkled mouths for the next few hours.

  I mean, it was okay. A lot of the old guys did occasionally kiss my cheek. The old women did the same. That wasn’t going to happen this year since Preston was my competition and, as a twenty-five-year-old, I wanted to kiss him over me.