Kiss Me Not (Kiss Me 1)

No matter how much I wished I didn’t want Preston. The fact remained that I did. I was attracted to him. I liked him.

And a part of me wished I’d kissed him properly yesterday.

It was a stupid, dreamy, wishful part of me, but a part of me all the same.

I flashed my pass at the guard on the gate and entered the fairground. I beelined right for Annie’s stall and almost squealed when I found that she was open.

With a hot ham and cheese croissant and a fresh coffee in my hands, I took a detour on my way to the kissing booth and instead, headed toward the pond off to the side of the park.

It was quieter here since it wasn’t officially part of the fairground area. I ducked away from the booths and headed well away from the already buzzing hub of the fairground.

I walked past the picnic benches to the grassy area and dropped onto it. The blades tickled my bare thighs, and it took me a moment to find a flat enough area to rest my coffee on.

“You know, if you just used the benches, you wouldn’t have to search for a spot for your coffee.”

I jerked around at the sound of Preston’s voice. He was standing a few feet away, wearing a light blue polo shirt and white shorts. He was almost preppy, but the stubble that dotted across his jaw was a little too rough for that look.

He needed to be clean-shaven to pull that off. Maybe add some loafers. A little scarf around the neck.

Wow. I watched too much TV.

“If I wanted to sit on the benches, I would be, don’t you think?”

“Who knows with you?” Preston dipped under the plastic barriers that I was sure were repurposed police crime scene tape. “What are you doing out here?”

“What are you doing out here?” I shot back.

“I followed you.” He chuckled to himself and sat a few feet away from me. “Now you answer.”

I held up the croissant before tearing a bite out of it. It was the perfect hangover cure.

“Ah. That’s right. You drank too much last night.”

“I wouldn’t say too much.”

“Reagan was drunk-texting me how hard you were all crying over that movie.” He pulled his phone out. “There was even a selfie.”

There was a—

Oh, shit, there was.

And it was on Preston’s phone. Right there. In front of me.

Yup.

I grimaced at the photo of me in the background with mascara trails running down my cheeks. “Not the worst photo that exists of me.”

“There are photos worse than that?” He glanced at his phone screen. “Did they kill a raccoon or something?”

“Funny.” I took another bite of my croissant and ignored his laughing. If I had to tell people that I fed the raccoons so they’d leave my trash alone one more time…

“I’m kidding. I think it’s cute that you care about them.”

“It’s cute?”

“Sweet? Adorable? Nice? There really aren’t many other words to use to describe it.”

“Nice is so bland. Sweet is for you, and adorable is simply a synonym for cute.”

“It’s kind of hot when you go all librarian.”

I jerked my head around and, with an eyebrow raised, gave him a questioning look. “It’s kind of hot? Wow. You need to get out more.”

“Librarians are hot.”

“Have you met Mrs. Hovington?” I asked, referring to the Head Librarian and my boss. She was four-foot-nine, wore glasses that were around six inches thick, favored scratchy wool sweaters, and her orthopedic shoes were the things of nightmares.

He nodded. “I have. Is she still as scary as she was when we were kids?”

“That look over the glasses is quite intimidating. Especially when you have late fees. Or I don’t put all the returns away quickly enough.” I scrunched up the wrapper from my croissant and reached for my coffee. “I think she’s retiring next year. Maybe more kids will come to the library then.”

“Nobody comes anymore?”

“Not when the storytime is deemed ‘too loud.’”

“Wow. What an old spoilsport.”

“Like you ever went to storytime on Sundays when you were a kid. Reagan did, but I never once saw you there.”

Preston followed me as I got up. “I never said I did go, but as a big brother, I appreciated getting rid of my annoying little sister for an hour a week.”

“The bond you two share is precious.”

“I prefer to use the word ‘tentative.’”

I rolled my eyes and dipped under the plastic tape. “Well, whatever it is, it sure is something.”

We fell into step alongside each other. Neither of us said a word, although I did steal a glance at him once or twice as we passed the Ferris Wheel. Reagan’s words from last night kept coming back to me, rattling around in my mind.

She said he had a crush on me.

I knew it was insane. There was no way he did, but that didn’t mean I could stop thinking about it. She’d planted the seed in my mind, and even though I knew she’d done it deliberately, it didn’t change a thing.