Page 142 of Mexico Can Choke On It
He’s still frozen.
“GAWD, I’m sorry… I must seem like some kind of emotional terrorist. We can leave. We can go anywhere else. I can get you a steak, or an emergency scotch. We can go make out in the back seat ifyou—”
He reaches out, cradling my cheeks, and kisses me. The breath whooshes from my lungs.
When he finally draws away, his eyes are glassy. “This is the most thoughtful gesture anybody has ever done for me. Thank you. I cannot believe you remembered something so insignificant.”
The truth slips out before my filter can catch it. “If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.”
The confession hangs there, sticky and exposed. I quickly shove the hot dog at him.
“Anyway! Let’s inhale this street meat, and then we’re hitting every ride until one of us pukes or passes out. That’s the authentic carnival experience.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BRYCE
“It’smeat…ish,Moneybags.Be brave.”
The suspiciously shiny hot dog wiggles in my hand. Heat seeps through the wrapper, the bun is damp from steam, and some viscous goo glistens on the surface—ketchup, allegedly. I have no clue what the protocol is here. Do I unwrap the entire thing? Peel it like a banana? There should be instructions.
I tilt it.
Rotate it.
Sniff it.
It is—without a doubt—the most unappetizing food I’ve ever considered eating. And I once sampled casu marzu, the world’s most dangerous cheese… intentionally infested with live maggots.
“Earth to Bryce,” she sing-songs. “Food goes in mouth.”
“I have never… I don’t—” I glance down again. “It’s wet.”
“Watch and learn, B.” She parts her lips and wraps them slowly around the end of the bun, taking a deliberately slow bite. Her tongue darts out to catch a drip of relish.
“I’m experiencing… a different kind of hunger now.”
She waggles her eyebrows. “Fun first, naughty times later. Eat the damn hot dog.”
I take a breath. Tilt it… And bite.
It’s unholy. Greasy, salty, spicy. My tongue is confused and delighted. My eyes close with pleasure.
“Oh my God,” I moan loudly.
“Okay, easy there, Fifty Shades,” Petra says through a laugh. “There are children here.”
I finish it in four rapid bites. “Another!”
“Slow down. We’ve got a whole night of artery-clogging deliciousness ahead. Fried Oreos, fried funnel cakes, fried corn dogs. Sensing a theme here?”
“Explaincorn dog.”
“Oh, you delicate rich boy.” She pats my cheek condescendingly. “I’m about to ruin your taste buds forever.”
That wicked smile. I’d follow her into hell.
I take her hand in mine. “All right, show me how to misbehave.”
