Page 68 of I Dare You
“I’m hip, remember?”
I burst out laughing as he teasingly winks.It’s all in good humor.
“Besides, I feel a chill coming on.”He stages a cough behind his hand.“Go easy on this young man,” Father Justin addresses the crowd, before catching me off guard and nudging me gently in the ribs.“Especially you.”
Am I that obvious?
The crowd circles Father Justin, treating him like a local rock star, and I guess that’s because he is.Doesn’t look like he’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.Meanwhile, I ignore the butterflies in my stomach and take my place behind the table to serve the next eager pitcher in line.
Oh, and what do you know, it’s the blonde I saw Kit talking to at the garage.
She smiles, passing me a ten-dollar bill.“Anything for charity, right?”she gushes like we’re friends.
I deadpan her and only just refrain from tossing the balls at her head.
She gets the hint and takes her position in front of the tank.
I refuse to make eye contact with Kit, but I can feel his smugness from here.I shove the money into the tin, and when I look down the line, I roll my eyes because it suddenly consists of women.
The baseball team has been set aside so the horny women of Flat Planes can shoot their shot, and I mean that in the literal sense, with Kit.
“Think of the children,” I mumble under my breath as I take a twenty off another Kit groupie.
She doesn’t ask for change, as it seems she wants the full Kit experience.
The blonde misses the target and walks over to the tank, intent on making small talk.But that’s not happening, especially since he didn’t take the hint to put his shirt back on.
“Next!”I shout, practically shoving the lady next in line toward the tank.
The blonde gets the hint and gestures with her hand that Kit is to call her.
I stick out my tongue, primed on gagging.I thought I was discreet, but I clearly wasn’t because when I lock eyes with Kit, it’s apparent he is thoroughly amused, which merely pisses me off further.
“Hey, Cupcake?”
It feels as if the blood drains from my body.
I go numb.
Cupcake?
Has he figured out who I am?
When he notices that I’m puzzled by the nickname, his gaze shifts to my wrist.Looking down, I’m relieved when I see the large pink cupcake charm on the bracelet one of the kids made for me during arts and crafts.
I fold my arms across my chest, arching a brow, hinting that if he has something to say, he should say it.
“Your turn.Dunk me, and I’ll buy you dinner.”
“What if I don’t?”I ask, amused by his arrogance.
“Then you’re at my command.”
Command?I didn’t know it was still the 1950s.
“Oh, go fu?—”
One of the sisters walks past at that precise moment, clearing her throat loudly, reminding me that kids are in earshot.
