Page 22 of Here In Your Arms

We walk up to the volunteer at the table and pay for our shirts. There are a few different colors available, so I pick a bright yellow shirt, trying to find something super obnoxious just for fun. Wes eyes my bright yellow shirt and picks up a neon green. Kyle rolls his eyes at both of us and picks out a white one.

“Bo-ring!” Wes sing-songs to him as a result

Kyle just laughs and shakes his head. “One of us has to be someone reasonable with colors.”

“I didn’t realize we had the color police with us,” I comment with a smirk.

“Just call him Sergeant No-Color,” Wes teases.

“Does that mean I get to be in charge?” Kyle says with an eyebrow raised.

He leans in close between both of us and lowers his voice while we’re still facing the table of shirts where we selected our colors and sizes.

“I enjoy being in charge,” he says, seduction oozing from him.

Wes and I both shudder, and I feel my eyes flutter before turning around from the table, looking up at Kyle in surprise. He just winks and walks to the next station where we pick out ink colors and design. I lean in close to Wes as we follow.

“Is he always that hot?” I whisper.

He grins at me as he whispers back, “Always.”

We pick out our designs and colors before moving to an area full of paint and square frames with fabric pulled taut. I’ve never seen this type of thing before. I assumed there would be some kind of press, but this doesn’t look like what I expected.

“Ready to print?” a friendly volunteer asks.

“I think so,” I tell him, handing my shirt over.

“Great!” He takes my shirt and starts to explain the process to me.

The way they print is called silk screen printing. After explaining the process, the volunteer confirms my color, and we add it to the screen. I take a squeegee and slide it from top to bottom to spread it evenly over the T-shirt. We repeat the process and let it set for a moment before pulling the screen off the shirt. The final design is perfect, and I look up, smiling.

“How cool!” I exclaim.

“Right?” The volunteer helps me pick the shirt up and points to where I can hang it to dry. “Don’t forget to come grab your shirt before you leave the festival. Should only take an hour or so. I’ll still be here if you want to say hi.”

I smile and feel myself blush when he winks at me. As I turn with my shirt, I feel someone come up close behind me, almost touching. My adrenaline spikes a little as I quickly look back, only to see Kyle near me giving the volunteer a dirty look before checking out my shirt.

“That looks great!” He grins.

“Right? How’s yours?”

He holds up his shirt gently so I can check out the design. We picked different designs, but all the shirts have the festival name and year on it. It’ll be nice to have a reminder of a good day out. As soon as we finish clipping our shirts up next to each other, Wes appears, shirt in hand.

“Sweet, those look great!” he comments as he hangs his own shirt up.

We stand there for a few seconds, looking at our shirts before someone clears their throat behind us. We turn and realize we’ve been blocking other people, so we shuffle out of the tent and stand just outside the entrance.

“What now?” I ask.

“Well, we’ve got an hour to kill, so let’s go see who’s performing,” Kyle suggests.

“Sounds good. Hey, do you guys think we’ll be done with the date in an hour?” I ask, keeping my face as neutral as possible.

“Um, well, we can be if you have plans. We didn’t really plan the time out, but I guess if you need to be done…” Wes says awkwardly.

“Yeah, don’t feel like we’re trying to trap you or anything,” Kyle adds.

They both sound so sad, and I’m now hoping they take the joke and they’re not actually upset.

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