Page 126 of Paint the Town, Dove
“Are you fucking listening to me?”
“What?” I snapped out of my trance, feeling the heat from her breath. “What did you say?”
“They’re gone,” she pinched me again, but not before I grabbed her hand, and pulled out a quarter from under my sleeve. She turned away, smile wide. “Dumbass.”
“The magic shop days still come in handy,” I teased, sliding the coin into the photobooth. “Let’s test this dinosaur.”
“It’s ancient, there’s no way it’s going to –”
“Work?” I interrupted, as the lights turned on and the countdown started from ten.
Nine.
Eight.
“You’re kidding,” she laughed. And for the first time in a long time, that childlike sparkle returned in her eyes.
My heart fucking caved, and I scooted near her.
Seven.
Six.
“Do we… pose?” She threw up a middle finger, and I couldn’t help but follow her.
Five.
Four.
“I think I have some cards in here. Could be your next album cover, Ry, you never know.” She winked, fishing around in her purse.
Three.
Two.
…
Don’tfuckingdoitdon’tfuckingdoit–
…
Fuck it.
I grabbed her face.
Cradled the back of her neck.
One.
And claimed my fucking Dove.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Scarlett
Ten Years Ago
It’s kind of amazing how fast things take off when you launch the rocket and anticipate the supernova.
