Page 13 of Merry Little Sugar Rush
“You as well, ma’am.”
“Oh, just call me Cindy. Ma’am makes me feel old.”
I chuckle. “You’re definitely not old. You don’t look a day over thirty-five.”
She gently hits my shoulder and shakes her head. “You’re my new favorite person.”
I say a quick hello to Ray, Eve, John, and another woman who looks familiar. “Ariel Lehman,” she greets, connecting the dots and throwing me a wave.
“Right, nice to see you again.”
Joy takes one of the empty seats on the far side of the group, and I know if I want to skirt out of here, this is my opportunity. I could easily make a quick excuse and go back to my gram’s house. There’s no reason for me to have a seat and watch the pageant with the Campbell family.
“Have a seat, son. The competition just started,” Ray states.
And that’s what I do. Any thought of leaving vacates my mind instantly, and I take the final remaining seat beside Joy. We’re close—right next to each other. I catch a whiff of something sweet, like cinnamon and sugar dusting her skin. It makes me harder than I’ve ever been before, and that’s concerning.
Why?
She’s my friend, plain and simple.
I’m not supposed to be fantasizing about licking her bare skin, even if the idea is appealing.
So, I’ll sit here and not think about all the things I’d do to Joy Campbell if I had the chance.
Turns out, that’s much easier said than done.
FIVE
Joy
I can feelhis eyes on me, but as the pageant wraps up and the winner is announced, I do everything I can not to look his way. I’m afraid, if I do, he’ll see how badly he affects me written all over my face. I most definitely can’t look over at my sister. She’ll know immediately and will latch on to that like a dog with a bone. So I sit tensely in my bag chair and watch the competition, recalling how excited and nervous I felt when I was up on that stage a little over ten years ago.
“I think we have a great princess this year,” Mom says, always the diplomat. She says the same thing every year, even if the winner chose the other hair salon for her pageant hair.
“I agree,” Eve states, grabbing their chairs and starting to slip them inside the bags.
I remain quiet as I reach for the blue bag that holds my chair, but before I can execute the task, Burk is reaching for my chair and sliding it inside the bag. He does the same to the one he was sitting in.
“Thank you,” I tell him, my throat a little dry.
“Of course. Thanks for letting me sit with you guys.”
“You’re always welcome, son,” Dad announces, clapping Burk on the back of the shoulder.
He nods and turns his attention to my sister and her boyfriend. “Eve and John, it was good to see you both again.”
“You’ll see us tomorrow for sure. We have to come pick out our tree,” my sister states with enthusiasm. She turns to me. “You’re coming too, right?”
I nod. “I’ll meet you out there. I’m not walking and dragging that thing back to town on a sled.”
Eve rolls her eyes at me. “Whatever. It’s tradition.”
“No, it’s your tradition. Mine is to throw it in the back of Dad’s truck.”
When we were growing up, Dad and Mom would always walk us out to the tree farm to pick out our tree. We’d find the perfect one for our space, cut it down, and then drag it back to the house on a sled. We only lived a handful of blocks away from the farm, and thankfully, it sits on the edge of town. However, now I’m farther away. My apartment is in the middle of the downtown square, and that alone adds a good four blocks to the walk.
No thank you.
