Page 114 of The Devil Wears Tartan

“The demon piper certainly thinks so.”

I pretend to shudder. “He’s still watching us, isn’t he?”

She adds a spooky tone to her voice. “He’s always watching us.”

“Well, good.” I straighten back up and climb off her lap. “He can judge who fixes their hair the fastest.”

I leap off the bed, ignoring Kenzie’s shouts of protest as I sweep my arm over the desk to gather up all the hair supplies and then sprint to the bathroom.

“No rules, remember?” I shriek.

I drop the pile of bobby pins, brushes, and bottles clutched in my arms down on the counter and tear the remnants of my bun loose. Kenzie comes storming in a half-second later and glowers at me as she does the same thing.

We stand side by side in the tiny bathroom, most of which is taken up by an old-fashioned claw foot tub I plan to make good use of with her tonight. The mirror in front of us is just big enough to hold both our reflections in its gilded frame.

“I’m gonna win!” I shout as I rake a brush through my hair and then gather it all up in an elastic on top of my head like I’ve done a few thousand times before.

“No fucking way,” Kenzie mumbles around the bobby pins she’s holding between her lips as she smoothes down the back of her head.

We’re both a whirl of well-practiced movements for the next couple minutes. Kenzie grabs one of the bottles of hairspray just before I’m about to wrap my hand around it and douses her bun in a few sprays.

“DONE!” she bellows, slamming the bottle back down on the counter for emphasis.

“Nuh-uh!” I shout. “You didn’t do your bow!”

She balks as I reach for my strip of tartan ribbon and wrap it around the base of my bun. “The bow isn’t part of it!”

“Today it is.” I tie the final knot in place and smirk at her. “I win.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “I did not agree to these terms.”

“Too bad for you.” I shrug. “I’m the winner.”

“You’re a little shit is what you are.” She glares at me, but it only takes a second before her face cracks into a grin. “Come here.”

She reaches for my arm and pulls me to her, planting a gentle peck on my lips. It’s innocent and tender, but I can still feel the warmth of her mouth travel through my whole body.

“You’re gonna let me redo your bow, right?” I ask once she steps back.

She sighs. “You’re not going to let me out of this hotel room until I do, right?”

I shake my head and beam at her. “Now you’re catching on.”

* * *

A couple hours later, Kenzie and I are holding hands and making our way over to one of the main dance stages at the games. I’ve been to a few highland games in Canada, but nothing compares to this. This is the mecca of traditional Scottish sporting events. People from all around the world turn up to watch bulky dudes in kilts toss tree trunks around, listen to bagpipe troupes battle it out for awards, buy cheesy souvenirs, eat every kind of haggis-themed snack the human race can come up with, and of course, see the biggest and best highland dance competition in the world.

Since we’ve got two students from the Murray School competing here this year, my whole family decided to make a vacation of it and fly over to support the girls. It took a little convincing, but Kenzie eventually got on board and accepted a plane ticket as an early birthday present from all of us.

We only have a few days before we fly back; Kenzie is taking summer courses again this year, and I’ve got a day camp to run at the studio. I’ve decided to finish my Bachelor of Education, but my mum is letting me take on more responsibilities at the studio as I prepare to formally start a position as a co-director once I graduate.

We come to a stop once we reach the rows of seats facing the covered stage. I scan the crowd for a glimpse of my parents, and when I glance back at Kenzie, I find her grinning.

“What?” I ask.

“I just saw a medic walk by. It brought back some memories.”

I glare at her. “Do not make another mole hole joke.”

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