Page 48 of The Quirky Vet

"Holy shit," I mutter as we get close, the sight before us almost surreal. The normally barren, dirt landscape has given way to a lively burst of celebration, a bustling pop-up oasis filled with people and colour and music. The campground is over to the right, and on the left, a massive stage dominates the centre of the field. A few musicians are warming up.

We climb out of Muir's ute and make our way through the packed carpark to the field. From here, I can see rainbow flags fluttering like sparks of joy in the breeze, dotting the horizon as the sun bakes the dry earth.

A lot of other places celebrate Pride in June, so of course Scuttlebutt has to be different, and we do it in April. The heat from when we fixed Muir's grandad's fence a few weeks ago has faded, replaced by perfect mild weather.

A giant rainbow arch marks the entrance, welcoming everyone with open arms. As we step under it, I yank out my phone from the secret inside pocket of my jacket and insist on some selfies. We make a few funny faces, and I even slip in a quick kiss on his cheek before we go in. Muir doesn't have to tell me not to post them. I would never. No. These are for my eyes only.

Once inside, the vibrant energy of the Pride festival hits me like a wave. We're greeted by a sprawling array of colourful tents and stalls, each draped in bright flags and adorned with glittering decorations. Music pulses through the air, and everywhere I look, there are people dancing, laughing, and embracing.

My family has been coming every year for as long as I canremember, and I've always loved it. Especially as a kid. It's the closest thing to Disney World I've ever experienced.

"You can feel the love in the air, can't you?" I say, as I wrap my arm around Muir's broad shoulder.

He glances at me and smiles. "Yeah. You can."

We make our way through the crowd, a joyful mix of locals and visitors decked out in every imaginable colour, with glitter-covered faces and flowing rainbow capes. I soak it all in. It's amazing seeing people this free and happy. It makes me a little sad that every day in the real world isn't like this because how amazing would life be if it were?

"Love the outfit," Rusty the mechanic says as we pass him and his missus.

"Thanks, mate."

A couple of drag queens totter over to us, asking where I got my jacket, and would I be willing to lend it to them.

Muir takes out his phone and starts recording bits and pieces of everything.

"Any sign of the gang?" I ask after a few minutes of wandering around, saying hello to the locals and exchanging friendly looks and waves with newcomers.

He cranes his neck, but it's near impossible to see through the thick crowd. His eyes light up, and he points to a row of food trucks. "There's a good chance we'll find them there."

"Reckon you might be right."

As we make our way over to the food section, the dance music stops and is quickly replaced by the sounds of country music.

Live country music.

I let out a loud groan. Not my favourite genre.

"You've got to be open to new things," Muir tells me, smiling and clearly enjoying my misery.

"I am open to new things. Exhibit A." I wave a hand down my outfit. I've worn a lot of risqué stuff in my time, but nothing ever on this level. I haven't missed the wide-eyed stares I've beengetting since we got here. "And Exhibit B." I reach out and brush my fingertips over his lips.

We stop walking, and everything—and I mean everything, the people, the music, all of it—fades to black, and it's just him and me.

I slide my hands around his waist as he cups my neck and leans in. My heart jackhammers in my chest, and I feel so alive, my body thrumming with adrenaline. I angle my head and close my eyes, so close to tasting his lips again, and?—

"Fitzgerald!"

"Fuck." My eyes snap open, and I jerk back. "Why are my parents the two biggest cock blockers on the planet?"

Muir chuckles, running a hand through his blond locks. The heat in his eyes only reminds me what I'm missing out on, but for now, I'll have to take a raincheck.

I turn around and see my parents approaching, and Jesus fuck, if my outfit is on the wild side, what my parents are wearing is downright deranged.

"What is this?" I ask, pointing to the few leather straps they've got zigzagging across their bodies, hiding what are meant to be their most private bits.

"We wanted to show our support for the BDSM community," Dad announces proudly.

"Oh. Are you part of that community?" Muir asks with a shit-eating grin, and I go from wanting to kiss him to wanting to kill him. He's baiting them deliberately.

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