“No. You’d be in front of the camera this time.”
I blanched a little. “Oh, um, doing what exactly? I’m not an actress.”
“I don’t need you to be an actress. I need you to be Avery.”
“And do what?”
“Kiss a stranger.”
Avery
The sounds of the busy restaurant faded away as I stared at Beth in complete shock.
“You wa
nt me to do what?” I frowned at her calm face. She must be teasing.
“I need you to come to the studio tomorrow, and kiss a stranger.”
“A kiss, like on the cheek? A quick, hello-type kiss?”
Beth huffed in exasperation. “No, Avery. Lips pressing.” She grinned wickedly. “Tongues meeting, if you want. That type of kiss.”
“With a stranger.”
“That’s the idea.”
“You seriously don’t have another volunteer you could ask?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t have the time to go through the application process. I know you. I trust you.” She leaned across the table, clasping my hand, her hazel eyes pleading. “You’re off work tomorrow—you have the time. I need this favor. Please?”
“Why are you doing it again? What is this for?” I asked.
“I was hired by a company to film this segment. It’s a social experiment, to see how people respond physically and emotionally to a stranger in an intimate moment.” She quirked an eyebrow in jest. “Hence the kissing.”
“Well, I can save you a lot of trouble. I’ll behave as if I was embarrassed—because that’s exactly what I’ll be. I won’t even be able to speak. You know how nervous I am with new people.”
Beth laughed. “Speaking isn’t what I want your lips to do. C’mon, Avery. I need you.”
I took a sip of my iced tea, stalling for time. I couldn’t remember the last time I kissed someone. One of the few disastrous dates, I supposed. None of them left a lasting impression on me, that was for certain. I doubted I made it memorable for them either, since no second date had occurred. Now Beth wanted me to kiss a stranger? Simply the thought of meeting a new person was daunting, never mind kissing them.
Beth sat back, sipping her coffee while she waited for me to agree. Because she knew I would. I found it impossible to say no to my best friend.
“Is there, like, an age limit?” I shuddered. “I really don’t want to kiss an old man. Or even worse, some young, pimply teenager.”
“It’s all mapped out,” Beth explained, her voice patient. “We’ve matched up age groups and sexual orientation. My volunteer who canceled was your age and you’d be a perfect replacement.”
“Do you know who I’ll be, um, kissing?”
“Nope. Only that he’s male, thirty-two years old, and likes females in his age category.” She smirked. “Perfect for you. Maybe you can ask him for a date after. Or you know . . . hook up.”
I scoffed at her teasing. It had been weeks—no, actually months, since I’d been on a date. I was sure it was less than a year—but I couldn’t swear it.
“How long a kiss are we talking here?”
“Whatever you feel like.”
“What if I don’t like him? Or he has bad breath or . . . oh God, Beth, what if he’s a clown in his spare time? What if he wants to go to the circus?” I hated clowns—they scared the shit out of me.