I was shocked by her generosity towards us, two virtual strangers.
“Thanks,” Dean spoke up before I could, which was probably a good thing considering she was painting my face and I was supposed to keep still, “we managed to find a place for the night and we’ll head out in the morning.”
“Ah, okay.” She nodded. “What made you guys decide to go on a road trip?”
“She was supposed to go with her friends, but they bailed so I stepped in.”
“Knight in shining armor right there.” I pointed at Dean and he bowed.
“If I’m a knight,” he started, his brow furrowing, “then where’s my sword.” He stuck his hands on his hips and looked around.
“Ooh,” Rachel cried, “there’s a guy here who sells homemade swords.”
Dean’s whole face lit up. “Like a real sword that could cut a watermelon in half?”
Watermelon? I mouthed.
“Uh…” Rachel chuckled. “Sure. I guess.”
“Sa-weeeet,” Dean said dramatically, and rubbed his hands together. He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “We have to find that booth before we leave.”
I started to speak but Rachel quickly shushed me, so I merely nodded instead.
A few minutes later she sat back with a pleased smile. “Finished.” She declared before handing me a mirror so I could see for myself.
I squealed when I saw myself. I was definitely a sparkly Pinkie Pie.
Dean sat down then so she could start on him.
It didn’t take her as long to paint his face since Dean actually kept quiet while she worked.
We thanked her and then continued on through the festival.
“I swear this place looks like it goes on for miles,” I commented, my head on a constant swivel as I tried to absorb every little thing.
“Maybe it does.” Dean shrugged and reached down for my hand.
I smiled up at him and pulled out my phone. “Smile!” I told him.
We took a few normal pictures before we switched to making silly faces. I sent one to my mom. Dean noticed.
“Your dad’s not going to see that, is he?”
I laughed. Dean bein
g afraid of my dad was hysterical. My dad might try to act all big and tough but he was really a big ole softy.
“Maybe.” I shrugged and stuffed my phone in the back pocket of my shorts. “What’s the big deal?”
“We’re holding hands,” Dean hissed, and held our hands up as if to prove his point.
“Yeah, so what? You can’t see our hands in the picture.
“But he’s your dad,” Dean groaned, almost in a whine, “he’ll know.”
I busted out laughing and patted Dean’s chest with my free hand. “It’ll be okay.”
He mumbled something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like, “No, it won’t.”