Page 19 of Maid of Dishonor

“I guess?” She leans in slightly, and then her eyes widen as though she’s just thought of something. “Okay, but what if you think I’m a terrible kisser?” she says.

I give a snort of laughter. “I’m sure you’re not.” My eyes flit over her face, and a twinge of compassion pulls at me as I take in her worried expression. “Look, we don’t have to do this,” I say, keeping my voice gentle. “But I really think it would be fine. We don’t have feelings for each other.” Right? We don’t, do we?

“True,” Sam says, biting her lip again, worrying it with her teeth.

I clear my throat and pull my eyes away from those lips, which, I’ve just noticed, are perfectly pink and slightly glossy. “So?” I say, swallowing hard and looking Sam in the eye. “Your choice. I’ll do whatever you decide.”

I wait on bated breath as Sam studies me for a second, her brown eyes wide and intense.

“Okay, let’s do it,” she says after a moment. “But can we stand up? When I kiss a man, I’m usually standing up.”

What’s that, now?

“Who have you been kissing?” I say with a frown. “Is there someone you didn’t tell me about?” I stand up and hold out my hand to Sam, pulling her to her feet.

“Sadly, no,” she says, and I relax a little. “Not for a very long time. So…I’m sorry if I’m rusty.”

I grin. “It will be fine.”

We stand awkwardly in front of each other for a second, and I know she has to be as aware of our audience as I am. At this point I’m just trying to pretend Winifred isn’t in the room at all.

“Okay. So I’ll just—” I say, putting my hands on her waist.

“Oh, right. Um.” She places her hands on my shoulders.

And then we stand there, staring at each other, for what feels like a solid ten minutes—until we both start to laugh.

“I feel like we’re middle schoolers slow dancing,” Sam says through a giggle.

“Me too,” I say, smiling. I force myself to relax and step closer to her, sliding my arms more naturally around her waist. She moves in until her arms are around my neck, her body pressed against mine.

“That’s better, right?” Sam says.

I don’t miss the shakiness in her voice. I also don’t miss the swooping sensation in the pit of my stomach as her fingers play absently with the hair at the base of my neck, as her peachy scent envelops me.

“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “That’s better.” I hesitate, then say, “I don’t know if I’ve ever kissed a girl as tall as you before.”

Sam snorts. “You’ve kissed a ton of women. I have a hard time believing—”

“You’re stalling!” Wini barks out from behind us, and we both jump. “You know what stalling means, Samantha?”

Sam’s eyes widen slightly, and Winifred bulldozes recklessly on.

“Stalling means you’re—”

But I never hear what stalling means, because at that precise moment, Sam stands up on her tiptoes, pulling hard on my neck, and presses her lips firmly against mine.

And then, before I can even process what’s happening, before I can respond, the kiss is over.

“That was hardly five seconds, Samantha,” Winifred says with disapproval, and a loud voice in my head adamantly agrees. “That wasn’t evenonesecond.”

A muscle in Sam’s jaw twitches, and I can’t stop my smile.

“I think you just did damage to my neck,” I say quietly.

“I had to pull it down because you’re freakishly tall,” she points out. “But…sorry.” She winces. “I just wanted to get it over with.”

How flattering.

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