Page 37 of Kissing Games
‘How come you never smile at me like that?’ Charlie grumbled as they sat down to wait.
‘You’re special.’
‘Good special or bad special?’
She paused. ‘Special, special. You’re in a category all your own.’
The smell of fried food filled the air as they watched their lunch being cooked. ‘I was thinking we could do a pub crawl tonight,’ he said.
She sat up straighter. ‘Tonight? With you?’
‘Yeah, unless you’ve got anything else you want to try? Skinny-dipping? Spin the bottle?’
‘No! A pub crawl? Like one drink in every pub?’
‘Yep, that’s the general idea.’
‘Okay.’
His smile made her tummy hiccup.
‘Alright then. It’s a date.’
‘It’s not a date,’ she replied hurriedly.
‘Oh no. It’s not a date,’ he agreed, his eyes alight. ‘It’sdefinitelynot a date.’
13
‘You’re going on a date with him!’ Isabella squealed through the screen.
‘You must wear a dress, my baby,’ said Abuelita.
‘And make-up. You have to wear make-up, sweet girl,’ added Abuela, shoving Abuelita out of the way.
‘It is not a date!’ Valentina cried in frustration.
‘Itisa date,’ came another voice from off-screen. ‘Don’t forget to brush your teeth between drinks. And don’t eat spinach.’
‘Mamá? You’re there too?’ Valentina sat on the edge of her bed with a thump. ‘Does everyone know about him?’
Her mother’s face appeared on screen. ‘Baby girl, we only want you to be happy. Charlie seems kind. And if your grandmothers approve, then so do I. When was the last time you had some fun, eh?’
She saw the concern etched on her mother’s face and bit her bottom lip, feeling an upswell of emotion. She missed them all so much. She dropped her chin and squeezed her eyes tightly as a tear slipped out.
‘Hey, don’t cry, my little girl,’ said her mother softly.
‘No, no, no! Don’t cry! It will make your face all puffy,’ Abuela called out. ‘Go get a cucumber. Put slices on your eyes. Quick, quick!’
Abuelita appeared. ‘And an avocado. Mash it up and put it on your face. For at least ten minutes.’
‘And then eat them,’ added Isabella, behind them. ‘Don’t go out on an empty stomach.’
Two hours later,Valentina was pacing nervously in front of the fire, her hands smoothing over her dress. She had only packed one, a simple black body-con number she’d bought at Target on sale. She didn’t own many, usually borrowing them from designers before awards ceremonies. Ceremonies where she never got nominated.
She’d only ever been nominated for one award: a Razzie. For worst supporting actress. Thankfully, she didn’t win, but it was a humiliation right at the start of her Hollywood career and confirmation of all her fears.
Don’t go there. She would not let her past ruin this evening.
