Page 30 of Death is My BFF
“How’d you end it with him?”
“Told him he was a sad excuse for a man and left.”
Her mouth fell open and bits of brownie fell out. “Oh, hell yeah!
You go, girl!”
I smirked with pride. “You should have seen his face!”
“I wish I did!” We high-fived, and Marcy’s enthusiasm died out.
“Wait, you got his number though, right?”
V
The following afternoon, I had to work a booth for charity at my local town carnival. A big-shot billionaire had sponsored various carnivals this year to keep them open for the entire month of October, all to encourage donations. The Pleasant Valley Community Outreach Committee required a certain amount of hours to remain a member, so I let them rope me into the job last minute. Normally I’d be okay with this sort of thing. I loved volunteering my time—when I didn’t have a Mount Everest pile of homework stacked on my bed.
When they mentioned all volunteers got let out of school early, a free T-shirt, and a jumbo bag of popcorn, I caved.
Everyone and their mother was at this carnival today, except for poor Marcy, who had to attend tutoring and then babysit her neighbor’s conniving Dennis the Menace brat of a kid.
I worked the dorky drink booth, shaped like a neon-purple lemonade cup with a straw hanging out of it. Between tending to customers, there was controlled chaos around me. Loud upbeat music accompanied by the occasional happy scream piercing the air.
Bright neon colors, swirling rides, a rainbow of prizes. And the best part: the yummy aroma of funnel cake, kettle corn, pizza, and hot dogs that filled the air.
Suddenly, a large black bird landed on the counter in front of me, snapping me away from people-watching. The crow, or whatever it was, sat there cawing in its deep, raspy voice. When shooing it didn’t work, I whipped the towel off my shoulder and swatted at the counter with a smack, which spooked it into flying away.
A sharp wind kicked up my ponytail.
“One large lemonade. Seven sugars.” My head snapped up at the deep voice, meeting the black aviators of the devil himself.
We spoke at the same time.
“Are you stalking me?”
“Not a bird lover I see.”
David Star chuckled.
I shot him a long, dry look. “Really?” I made a show of aggressively grabbing a stack of plastic containers from a cardboard box and slammed them down on the counter to refill the cup holder.
“What are you doing here, David?”
His mouth curved into a wry smile. “I’m thirsty.”
I adjusted my baseball cap and wiped down a tiny spill on the counter with my towel. It was all I could do to hide my total shock at seeing him. “There are plenty of other drink stands here,” I pointed out.
“But I want a lemonade.” When he saw I wasn’t making a move to start his drink, David crossed his tanned arms, inspecting me with an amused expression. My eyes drew to his broad chest as the fabric of his shirt stretched over his muscles. We both happened to be wearing baseball caps, but where he looked alluring with his plain white T-shirt and ripped medium wash jeans, I felt reclusive with my all-black funeral ensemble.
Lord, if you’re listening, please smite this gorgeous man with a monster pimple.
“Have I come to the wrong place?” David inquired, interrupting my ogling and spiteful thoughts.
I crossed my arms, mirroring his position. “You drove all the way out here because you wanted a lemonade?”
“I’m here on a date.”
I couldn’t ignore the small flick of jealousy within me. “How much did you pay her?”