Page 88 of Kiss the Girl
“I’m not putting on a show.” I slid a hand up his chest to toy with a button on his gray thermal T-shirt. “I’m kissing you because I want to.”
He pressed his forehead against mine, his eyes squeezed tight for a second. “But this is all fake.”
I stopped fiddling with the button and rested my hand on his chest, right over his heart. “This attraction is real.”
He took a step back. “Lust is cheap. This ain’t that.”
I took a deep breath. “I know.”
He opened his mouth like he was going to argue, then snapped it shut and blinked at me. “Wait, what?”
“I know this is more than that,” I said with a small smile. “All of it. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about that, but it seems like the bigger fake here would be acting like I don’t have feelings for you.”
He was quiet for a minute, his gaze moving over my face, studying me. Then he reached out and pulled me into another one of his ridiculous heady kisses, his hands on my cheeks, his lips proving how well they already knew mine.
“So then what?” he asked when he let me go.
“I don’t know. We just enjoy these last two weeks and not worry about what happens next?”
But he was already shaking his head. “I’m not built that way, Grace.”
“But—” I wasn’t even sure what I would have said next, but it didn’t matter, because the drop cloth was flung aside to reveal J.J. and his mom. Our conversation would have to wait.
I hadn’t actually seen the costumes yet, and J.J.’s hat made me laugh. The seniors had decided to wear jeans, plain black T-shirts, and red bow ties, but as long as the hats were red and white stripes, each player could choose the style of his hat. J.J. had clearly stolen a floppy white sun hat from his mom and spray painted it with red stripes, topping off the look with aviator sunglasses.
DeShawn came in behind him in a Rastafarian-style slouchy beanie. “My Grams made me this. It’s dope, huh?”
“It’s dope,” I agreed.
The first shift continued to trickle in, moms bossing the boys around to get the ingredients set up, every single mother stopping at some point to ask me the same question: “Is it true that Tabitha is coming tomorrow?”
My job had been the booth-building, not booth-running, so there wasn’t anything here for me to do. I walked over to the store to see if my dad needed a hand and found Paige and Evie there.
“Hey,” I said to Paige. “You guys are early for the parade.”
“Someone,” she jerked her head toward Evie, “couldn’t wait. I told her we’d wait here so there would be no way for her to miss it.”
I nodded at Evie. “Good play, Evie. Can’t be too prepared for things like Santa.”
“He really comes?” she asked. “On a sleigh?”
“He really does,” I told her. Evie and all the other kids who still believed were the reason Christmas Town was so magical every year. Their excitement over Santa’s VIP appearance infected all the adults. But even as an adult, watching everyone in Creekville come together and transform the town square into a fantasy for a day-and-a-half was its own kind of magic.
“Why does he come all the way to Creekville?” she asked. “He could go anywhere.”
“That’s a very good question,” my dad said, emerging from the plumbing aisle. “Have you seen how athletes get ready for games by warming up?”
Evie looked confused.
“Like at Unc’s games when the boys stretch and do jumping jacks before they start,” Paige said.
Evie’s face cleared. “So they can run faster.”
“Exactly,” my dad said. “It’s like that for Santa too, but he likes to practice the Christmas spirit, filling up with it right before the big day. Do you know what the big day is, Evie?”
Her eyes shone. “Christmas Eve!”
“That’s right. So every year, Santa checks a special map that shows him where he can find the most Christmas spirit, and every year, guess who has the most Christmas spirit in the whole world?”
