Date Published: 2025-12-02
Word Count: 5.3k
Summary: June reluctantly agrees to run a charity kissing booth for the local animal shelter and discovers that being out means that all those gay girls she's been friends with are lining up to kiss her.
AKA 5 times June tried to deny she was cute + 1 time she couldn't.
Notes: Hi all!
Still reading the rerelease, we're on A6A6I1!
The banner is crooked.
June’s standing on a folding chair, fingers numb from gripping the flimsy plastic edge, trying to tape the last corner of *KISSES FOR A CAUSE* to the top of the booth without falling on her face. The letters are hand-painted, bright green on white poster board - chosen by Jade, but June didn’t mind it - and the “K” in “Kisses” keeps dripping like it’s a week old cut flower.
“It looks great!” Jade calls from somewhere underneath her, rustling through a cardboard box of decorations. “Thank you so much,” she says, and June can feel her sister's big smile.
“It looks like it’s having a stroke,” June mutters, but she presses the tape down anyway and hops off the chair.
The school carnival sprawls across the field in messy, colorful chaos-streamers fluttering from light posts, homemade posters for clubs, and the smell of popcorn and cotton candy hitting her every time the breeze shifts. In the distance, someone’s trying and failing to tune a guitar into submission. It’s loud and bright and, if she's honest, a lot.
June wipes her palms on her jeans and turns to the booth: a rented table with a big overhang, a white plastic skirt, a jar labeled *DONATIONS* with a big cartoon heart, and another sign Jade insisted on:
1 KISS = $1
All proceeds go to the Animal Shelter!There’s a little hand-drawn cat and dog in the corner. The dog has heart eyes. Again, Jade’s design. She pops up from behind the table with a crown of fake flowers in hand.
“Okay, stand still.”
“Wha-?”
Before June can duck away, Jade is already stepping close, fingers nimble as she settles the flower crown into June’s hair.
“There. Perfect.”
June feels herself go awkwardly, stupidly still, like her brain has to buffer before dealing with compliments.
“I… do I really need the whole…” She gestures vaguely at the floral situation on her head. “…ensemble?”
“Yes, you do.” Jade says, as if that’s the least negotiable thing in the world. “You’re the star of the kissing booth!! You have to look approachable. And it’s cute!”
“Star is a strong word,” June protests. “Also, I still don’t understand why I’m the one doing the kissing. You’re the one who’s actually-” She flaps her hand helplessly. “-good at talking to people. And existing in public.”
Jade just laughs and starts straightening the table skirt.
“Im really not! It's just confidence. Besides, I have to run like, five different things today. Someone bailed on this booth, and you…” She looks up at June, eyes warm and sincere. “You said you wanted to try doing things that feel a little scary. I’m just being a very supportive sister.”
June grimaces because, yeah, she did say that. In an extremely ill-considered late-night conversation where she’d been all, ‘I wanna be more confident now that I’m out,’ in response to which Jade had nodded with terrifying enthusiasm and clearly filed it away.
“I thought you meant like, joining a club,” June mutters. “Not selling my soul for a dollar. Or my lips I guess.”
“Your lips are worth way more than a dollar.” Jade giggles, and pokes the donation jar with her finger. “It’s just a suggestion. I’m sure you’ll get wayyy more hehe.”
June snorts despite herself, then catches her reflection in the clear side of the jar: a girl with messy black hair tamed by flowers, a soft hoodie, a smudge of glitter on her cheek from when Jade got overexcited about face paint. Her chest tightens.
The whole “being out” thing is still new enough that every time she catches herself in a stranger’s eyes - even when the stranger is herself - she has a moment of wondering if everyone can tell. If they see her the way she’s always wanted to be seen or if they’re quietly judging her, putting her into some box in their mind. June smooths her hoodie, tracing the print with her fingertips just to have something to do.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asks, voice quiet.
Jade’s smile softens. She rounds the table and nudges June’s shoulder with her own.
“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I mean it. We can swap the sign out, do ‘Compliments for a Dollar’ instead. I have so many compliments ready that you can just read off!”
June hesitates. The idea of backing out is tempting. So ridiculously tempting. But there’s this tiny, stubborn spark in her that keeps replaying something Roxy said last week.
“You deserve to feel wanted, June, not just tolerated.” She’d said, and it makes her feel like maybe, just maybe, this could be… good. Or at least, funny in hindsight.
“I’ll do it,” she says, before she can overthink herself into oblivion. “It’s for the animals. And because I said I would. And because you will definitely guilt-trip me forever if I don’t.”
“I would never,” Jade says loftily, then grins. “Okay, maybe like, a little because of all the little puppies you wouldn't have helped. But you won’t need guilting!! You’re gonna do great.”
Jade squeezes her arm once, then slips away, waving as she jogs toward the dunk tank where Karkat is already yelling at someone.
“Good luck! Don’t break too many hearts! Text me if you need backup!”
“I’m the one who’s going to need medical attention,” June mutters, and sinks onto the folding chair behind the booth.
She adjusts the “1 KISS = $1” sign for the fourth time and watches people drift past. She sees couples holding hands, kids tugging their parents toward the games, a group of girls comparing their glitter tattoos. Nobody’s looking at her, specifically, and that’s… both a relief and a disappointment.
Maybe no one will actually come. Maybe she’ll sit here all afternoon and-
“Wooooow, look at our local celebrity.”
June jerks her head up. Dave is sauntering over with his hands in his pockets and his ever-present shades, dragging a bemused Jake behind him. Dave spreads his arms like he’s presenting a game show prize.
“Step right up, folks, trade your mortal dollars for Egbert’s maiden smooch. All proceeds go to a noble cause: dogs who are braver than I am.”
Jake leans on the side of the booth, grinning. “You actually did it! This is so cool, June.”
“Please lower your voices,” June hisses, cheeks heating. “And don’t call me a celebrity. Or maiden. Or anything.”
Dave snorts.
“You’re literally at a kissing booth. You don’t get to ban words anymore. This is a no-cowards zone.”
“I can eject you from the premises,” June says. “I have… booth privileges.”
“Wow, fascist.” Dave shakes his head. “Anyway, I’d totally pay, but I’m pretty sure there’s a conflict of interest with me being your roommate and also you being extremely homosexual.”
“I’m not a homosexual!” June says, a little too enthusiastically. “I’m bi. Now go away before I charge you double.”
Jake claps Dave on the shoulder, tugging him away.
“I’ll bring the Striders back later if the line needs padding! Break a leg, June! Or a - what did Jade say? Heart? Break a heart by jolly!”
They wander off, already bickering about something, and June exhales slowly. Okay. That wasn’t so bad. She can handle teasing. Teasing is familiar.
She fiddles with the flower crown again, glancing down the main walkway. People are starting to glance over at the booth now, eyes catching on the sign. Her stomach does an anxious flip. It’ll be fine. Probably. Maybe.
She’s halfway through rehearsing a generic greeting in her head (“Hi, thanks for donating, do you want a mint after? Is that weird?”) when she sees someone actually looking at her.
Vriska strides through the crowd like she owns it, hands in the pockets of her ripped jeans, jacket slung over one shoulder. The late afternoon sun catches the blue streak in her hair, making it glow. She spots the booth, reads the sign, and her mouth curves into a wicked grin.
Oh no, June thinks to herself.
“Oh my god,” June whispers to herself.
“Hiiiiiiii June,” Vriska announces as she reaches the booth, dragging out the name like a reveal. “Didn’t know you’d ascended to school icon status without telling me.”
June’s pretty sure her soul tries to exit her body through sheer embarrassment.
“I am not an icon. Or ascending.”
“Disagree.” Vriska flicks a dollar between her fingers like a coin trick, then lets it drop into the jar with a soft clink. “I saw ‘Kissing Booth’ on the map and thought, ‘wow, that’s cringe, I wonder who they suckered into doing it.’ And then I find out it’s you. This is fate.”
June is acutely, painfully aware of how close Vriska is leaning on the booth, elbows propped on the table so she can rest her chin in her hands. She’s smirking like this is all a fun game.
“It’s for charity,” June manages. “And Jade asked. And… it’s one dollar. No refunds.”
“Oh, I’m definitely getting my money’s worth,” Vriska says. Her eyes flick down to June’s lips for half a second. June feels it like static. “You ready, cutie?”
The word hits June like a physical shove. Her brain throws up twelve error messages in a row. She grips the edge of her chair so hard her fingers ache.
“I - uh - yeah?”
Smooth. Nailed it.
Vriska’s grin softens, just a fraction, like she’s picking up on the panic. She leans in across the booth, close enough that June can smell her shampoo, something sharp and clean and a little like citrus.
“Hey,” Vriska says, voice dropping just for June. “I’m not gonna, like, devour you in front of the PTA. Unless you want me to. Just breathe.”
June’s laugh comes out more like a squeak. But she does inhale, shaky and deep, and then Vriska is closing the distance.
The kiss itself is surprisingly gentle. Soft. Vriska’s lips are warm and careful, not some dramatic dip or performance like June’s intrusive thoughts had been threatening her with. It lingers for a heartbeat, two, and then Vriska pulls back just enough for June to see the smug sparkle in her eyes.
“See?” Vriska murmurs. “Not so scary.”
June can’t speak. Talking has become a distant, theoretical concept.
“Worth every cent,” Vriska announces at normal volume, straightening up and tossing June a wink. “Try not to let the stampede trample you, okay?”
She saunters off, hands back in her pockets, leaving June sitting there with her face on fire and an audience of passing students who are very clearly whispering along the lines of, *oh my god, did you see that*.
June presses her fingers to her lips, dazed. Okay. Okay. That… was real.
Before she can fully process it, another voice cuts through the noise, bright and delighted.
“I SMELL GAY PANIC!”
Terezi appears like she’s been summoned specifically to make things worse, tapping her cane on the ground with theatrical precision. She wears a shirt with a cartoon dragon on it and the kind of grin that suggests no one here is safe.
“Oh no,” June says weakly.
“Oh yes,” Terezi corrects, sidling right up to the booth. “I could hear your heartbeat from the other side of the carnival, Juney. I had to come investigate.”
She trails her fingers along the edge of the table until she bumps June’s hand, then follows that up to her wrist, her arm, her shoulder. June’s breath hitches.
“Mmhm,” Terezi hums thoughtfully. “Perp appears to be… extremely kissable. Slight tremor. Elevated heart rate. Significant levels of ‘oh GOD what is happening to my life.’”
“I think that’s confidential medical information,” June says, because if she doesn’t joke she might actually evaporate.
“Not if it’s for the law.” Terezi digs in her pocket and slaps a crumpled bill onto the table. “I am participating in a criminal matter.”
“You're always so dramatic,” June mutters, but the words fade as Terezi’s hand reaches her face.
Terezi runs her fingers over June’s cheeks, her jaw, the bridge of her nose, as if mapping her out.
“Hmmm,” she says, very serious. “Extremely symmetrical. Very soft. 10/10 kiss booth material. You’re clearly innocent, June Egbert.”
“Uh. Good. Great. Glad I-”
The first kiss lands on the tip of her nose, loud and smacking, making June yelp and then dissolve into helpless giggles. The second is on her mouth, quick but firm, and Terezi pulls back with a sharp, delighted laugh.
“You taste like COTTON CANDY and FEAR,” she declares. “My FAVORITE.”
“I think that’s just my lip balm,” June says shakily, wiping at the ridiculous grin she can’t seem to get off her face.
“Same thing.” Terezi taps her cane twice and spins away. “Happy FUNDRAISING! Try not to spontaneously COMBUST.”
She vanishes back into the crowd, leaving June’s cheeks aching from smiling. Her nerves are still buzzing, but there’s something else braided through the anxiety now, this weird, fizzy excitement. People she likes, people she respects, are lining up to kiss her? To support her? To make her laugh?
It doesn’t quite compute, but her heart is definitely into it.
The next little while blurs. A few brave strangers - girls she recognizes from classes, someone from the art club, a nonbinary kid with a cool undercut, a guy from the soccer team - drop dollars in the jar and lean in for swift, shy pecks. June gets better at the logistics: leaning forward at the right angle, keeping things brief, saying thank you with a real smile instead of a terrified grimace.
At some point, there’s a lull. June takes a sip of water, wipes her mouth with a napkin, and resettles the flower crown. She’s just starting to exhale when a shadow falls across the booth.
“Good afternoon,” Rose says.
June nearly chokes.
Rose stands there like she stepped out of an advertisement for Soft Gothic Annual. She’s in a pale blouse, dark skirt, and has a plastic cup of pink lemonade in one hand. She regards the sign with the faintest hint of amusement.
“So this is where the heart of the festival resides,” she says. “Jade mentioned you’d been persuaded into exhibitionist philanthropy.”
“I-wh-that’s not-” June sputters. “It’s not exhibitionist. I’m just… sitting here. Occasionally. For the animals.”
“Of course.” Rose drops a dollar into the jar. The sound of the coin hitting glass is deafening. “I’d like to make a contribution to the cause.”
June’s brain starts chanting *oh no oh no oh no* on repeat. “You don’t… you don’t have to actually, like-”
But Rose is already stepping closer, setting down her lemonade on the table with careful precision. Up close, June can see the little flecks of purple eyeliner at the corners of her eyes.
“I’m curious,” Rose says, voice dipping, “about the qualitative experience of participating in such a… public ritual. Purely for anthropological reasons, of course.”
“That’s not better,” June whispers.
Rose’s lips curve. She reaches out, and for a moment June thinks she’s going to - she doesn’t even know - mess with her hair or her glasses or something. Instead, Rose’s fingers curl under her chin, gentle but firm, tilting her face up.
Everything goes quiet. The background noise fades, the light blurs at the edges of her vision. All June can see is Rose’s expression. It’s soft, patient, with a glint of mischief hiding just underneath.
“Ready?” Rose murmurs.
June isn’t, not even slightly. “Uh-huh,” she says anyway.
Rose kisses her with this infuriating, precise tenderness, like she’s testing a hypothesis and savoring the result; a careful press of lips that lingers just long enough for June’s head to go completely, gloriously blank. Rose’s thumb rubs once, soothingly, along the edge of June’s jaw before she pulls away.
June blinks at her, dizzy.
“Well,” Rose says, reaching for her lemonade again. “That was illuminating.”
“Yeah?” June manages, voice coming from somewhere outside her body.
Rose takes a thoughtful sip. “I’d say the experiment is a success. You seem far more confident than when you started.”
June’s heartbeat stumbles. “You-you’ve been watching?”
“Observing,” Rose corrects lightly. “As all good scientists do. Don’t worry.” She tilts her head, her gaze warm. “You’re doing beautifully.”
She walks away before June can melt into the floor, her skirt swaying. June slumps back in her chair, every nerve in her face buzzing. Her lipstick, such as it is, is probably wrecked. Her brain definitely is.
She’s still trying to reassemble herself when someone leans on the booth with a familiar, effervescent energy.
“Heeey, Junebug.”
Roxy’s got half her hair up in a messy bun, the other half tumbling over one shoulder in pink waves. Her hoodie is covered in little embroidered stars, and there’s glitter dusted on her cheeks like she just wrestled a craft store and won.
“Hey,” June says, instantly warm.
“So this is the famous smooch station, huh?” Roxy taps the sign with one painted nail. “Damn, Egbert, you really went full main character today.”
“Jade tricked me,” June says. “I thought I was just hanging banners. Then suddenly I’m community property.”
Roxy snorts. “Community property, but make it empowered and consensual.”
She digs in her pocket with exaggerated flair and produces a handful of coins, dropping them all into the jar with a jangle. “I got, like, four bucks in quarters and a Canadian loonie. Do I get, like, a punch card? Frequent kisser points?”
June laughs, tension easing out of her shoulders. Somehow with Roxy, even this doesn’t feel weird, it just feels like another one of their bits, except this time there’s a kissing booth as a prop.
“One dollar is fine,” June says. “You don’t… you don’t have to overpay.”
“But what if it's like my love language,” Roxy says breezily. “Not to mention I’m supportin your glow-up journey.” She winks. “Are you good with this? Like, actually good?”
The question lands with more weight than June expects. Roxy’s looking at her, really looking, like she means it, like the answer matters.
June swallows. Her nerves are still there, but now they’re layered under that fizzy, buoyant feeling that’s been growing with every kiss and every dollar in the jar. She keeps getting more flustered.
“Yeah,” she says softly. “I think I am.”
Roxy’s smile turns softer, edges rounding out. “Okay. Then.”
She leans in halfway and pauses, leaving a breath of space between them. “Cheek first? Then the grand finale?”
“Grand finale?” June echoes, amused and terrified.
“Gotta give the audience a show,” Roxy says, then drops a quick, noisy kiss on June’s cheek that makes June snort.
The second kiss is different.
Roxy’s hand comes up to cradle the side of June’s face, thumb brushing her skin, and when their mouths meet this time it’s slower, unhurried. It’s not long, but it’s not rushed either, it’s a warm, steady pressure that makes June’s chest feel too small for her heart.
For a moment, the rest of the carnival disappears again. It’s just the taste of lemonade and cotton candy sugar and the feeling of being held, just a little, like she’s something precious.
When they part, Roxy bumps their foreheads together lightly. “Told ya,” she murmurs. “You’re a natural.”
June’s eyes flutter open. “You’re biased.”
“Yeah,” Roxy says cheerfully. “No plans to change that.”
She taps the donation jar once more. “I’m gonna go win you a stuffed animal from the rigged ring toss. You need a mascot for your booth. See you laterrr Junebug.”
June watches her go, heart doing ridiculous gymnastics. The donation jar is nearly half full now, coins and crumpled bills layered thick. Her lips feel a little swollen. Her face hurts from smiling. For the first time all day, she realizes she’s not thinking about whether people are reading her as a girl.
They’re just… lining up to kiss her because she’s June.
The afternoon rolls on. More people come by, some flirty, some shy, some just laughing as they drop a dollar and claim a quick peck in the name of charity. June gets more comfortable saying “Hi” and “Thank you” and “Yeah, it’s for the shelter” and “You can kiss me on the cheek if you’d rather, that’s totally fine.”
Then Kanaya appears, and everything subtly… shifts.
“Good evening,” Kanaya says, as if they’re at a formal reception rather than a noisy student fair. She’s in a dark dress with subtle green embroidery and a little enameled brooch shaped like a leaf at her collar.
“Hey,” June says, already flustered. “Um. Welcome to the, uh, kissing economy?”
“So that’s what she calls it,” someone passing by mutters. June pretends she didn’t hear.
Kanaya regards the sign thoughtfully, then pulls out a carefully smoothed bill and sets it down with near ceremonial care. “I would like to make a contribution,” she says. “You have been doing important work today. It would be remiss of me not to help support it.”
June feels weirdly honored. “You… really don’t have to—”
“I would like to,” Kanaya says, and there’s a finality to it that brooks no argument.
She steps closer to the booth, and for the first time all day, June forgets to overthink the mechanics. She just… leans in.
Kanaya places one hand lightly over June’s where it rests on the table, a grounding touch. Her other hand hovers for a second, asking permission without words. June nods, almost imperceptible, and Kanaya’s fingers settle just under her ear, warm and steady.
The kiss is almost chaste - less pressure than any other she’s had that afternoon, but there’s something in the way Kanaya does it that makes June’s breath catch. Like this is something to be treasured, to be done right.
When Kanaya pulls back, she doesn’t immediately let go. She studies June’s face with a tiny smile. “You have done very well,” she says quietly. “And you look happy.”
June can feel her eyes prickling, which is ridiculous. It’s just a booth. It’s just a fundraiser. But… “I am,” she admits. “Kind of. A lot.”
Kanaya squeezes her hand once more and then releases it, straightening her collar as if resetting herself. “Good,” she says simply. “I don’t imagine we will find a reason to kiss again, so I wanted to tell you it was well done.”
She glides away, and June watches her for a moment, then looks down at her own hands. They’re shaking, just a little. She presses them to her cheeks, laughs breathlessly, and glances at the donation jar.
Jade’s going to lose her mind when she sees how much they’ve raised.
As if summoned, Jade reappears just as the sky is starting to deepen into indigo and the lights strung around the booths flicker to life. She hurries over with a clipboard under one arm, face flushed with exertion.
“How’s my star doing?” she calls. Then she sees the jar and actually stops in her tracks. “Oh my god.”
“Is that a good ‘oh my god’ or a bad ‘oh my god’?” June asks.
Jade swoops in, picking up the jar like it’s a sacred relic. “June. This is amazing! Do you know how many dogs this is gonna help? So many dogs. They’re all going to write you tiny thank-you notes with their paws.”
“That seems logistically challenging,” June says, but she’s grinning.
Jade sets the jar down carefully and pulls June into a one-armed hug over the table. “I’m so proud of you,” she murmurs into June’s hair. “And not just because of the dogs.”
June swallows around the lump in her throat.
“Thanks for you know. Pushing me. A little.”
“That’s my job,” Jade says, squeezing tighter. “Okay. Carnival’s wrapping up. Ten more minutes and we can start tearing down. You want me to cover you so you can take a break?”
June looks around. The crowds are thinning, the games winding down. The sky’s that perfect shade between sunset and night, washing everything in soft blue. The music has been turned down; the buzz of voices is quieter.
“I think I’m good,” June says. And she means it.
Jade gives her a long, searching look, then nods.
“Okay. I’ll be back with trash bags and a ladder.”
She disappears again, and June realizes she’s alone for the first time in hours. No line, no chatter, just the hum of the lights and the distant laughter from the last few booths.
She exhales, stretching her legs under the table. Her body is tired in a good way, the kind of buzz she gets after dancing too long at a party. Her lips feel funny, her face is warm, and she can’t stop replaying images in her head: Vriska’s smirk, Terezi’s laugh, Rose’s steady gaze, Kanaya’s respectful softness.
And Roxy’s hand on her cheek, thumb brushing her skin.
“Hey, Junebug.”
June looks up.
Roxy’s standing there again, this time with a big, floppy stuffed dog tucked under one arm and a couple of folded cardboard boxes in the other.
“What’d I tell you?” Roxy says, setting the boxes down with a little huff. “Mascot acquired.”
She plops the stuffed dog onto the table in front of June. It’s lopsided and slightly cross-eyed, but it has a big red bow.
“It’s perfect,” June says, laughing. “You actually beat the ring toss?”
“Absolutely not. I flirted with the guy running it until he took pity on me and just handed it over.” Roxy leans in conspiratorially. “Turns out ‘my friend is doing a kissing booth for puppy charity’ is a very persuasive narrative.”
“I am being exploited,” June says, “in my own story.”
“Yeah, but for a good cause.” Roxy nudges her with her hip. “Scoot.”
June stands, stretching, as Roxy moves behind the booth to start breaking it down. She folds up the extra chairs, stacks the unused flyers, and generally acts like she’s done this a million times. June starts peeling tape off the banner, careful not to tear it.
“So,” Roxy says casually. “How was your first day as a professional kisser?”
“I don’t think amateur charity smoocher counts as a profession,” June says, but then she thinks about it. “It was… actually kind of awesome? I mean, I was terrified at first. I thought I was gonna throw up. But then people kept coming, and it was just… fun. And nice. And not as scary as I thought.”
Roxy hums.
“Sounds like exposure therapy.”
June snorts.
“Something like that.”
“Now you can’t deny you’re a cutie, Junebug,” Roxy teases.
June laughs again and hesitates, fingers stilling on the tape. The words are knocking around in her chest, wanting out.
“I kept thinking,” she says slowly, “that nobody would want to. You know. Kiss me. That way. That they’d see the sign and just keep walking. But they didn’t. And it wasn’t just for the booth or the bit, it felt…” She trails off, unsure how to finish that sentence without sounding like she’s quoting a self-help book. But Roxy doesn’t make her. She just waits, eyes soft, until June takes a breath and mumbles, “It felt like they actually liked me. Like… like I’m a girl.”
Roxy’s expression melts.
“Babe,” she says quietly.
June’s heart does a cartwheel. She’s still getting used to that, to little endearments tossed her way like they’re the most natural thing in the world. Each one lands and sticks a tiny piece of armor.
“You are a girl,” Roxy says, stepping around the table so they’re standing close on the same side. “And you’re stupid hot, and funny, and kind, and I know that, and Jade knows that, and half the campus clearly knows that now too. This just… gave you a chance to see it from their side.”
June’s throat tightens. The carnival noises blur at the edges.
“Thank you,” she says, and she doesn’t just mean helping with cleanup.
Roxy smiles, bright and a little shy around the edges now. She reaches up, flicking one of the fake flowers on June’s crown. “You wanna know a secret?” she asks.
“Always,” June says.
“I had a whole little plan,” Roxy confesses. “I was gonna come by first thing, be your *very first kiss*, make this big show of it so you wouldn’t be as nervous. But then I saw Vriska beelining over here like a lesbian missile, and I was like, ‘okay, pivot, no fighting over Juney, I’ll come play supportive friend later.’”
June laughs, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I thought you did pretty great playing the supportive friend.”
“Oh, did you now?” Roxy’s grin goes mischievous. “Wanna upgrade me to love interest?”
The words hang in the air between them, half-joking and half not. June’s breath catches.
“Do I… get a vote?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper.
Roxy steps closer, bunny-ear headband from some other booth now crooked on top of her hair. There’s glitter on her eyelashes, and she smells like vanilla body spray and carnival sugar.
“You get veto power,” Roxy says. “But I’m gonna be honest, June. I’ve been low-key crushing on you for, like, months. I was waiting till you had your feet under you a bit before dropping anything heavy, but after watching you rock a kissing booth all afternoon, I’m thinking… maybe you’re more ready than you think.”
June’s heart is thundering. Her palms are sweaty. Her mind is a chaos slideshow of every moment with Roxy lately. The late-night texting, shared headphones at lunch, Roxy showing up with coffee “just because.”
“I…” June starts, then stops, then tries again. “I like you too. Like, a lot. I just didn’t want to… assume. Or ruin anything. Or seem like I was… using you as training wheels.”
Roxy’s eyes go soft in that dangerous, devastating way. “You could never ruin anything,” she says. “And if I get to be like your transbian training wheels and your girlfriend? That’s like a dream job.”
June laughs, breathless and incredulous and so, so full. “I’m not a lesbian.” She says, quietly then smiles, realizing what else Roxy said. “Is that you asking?”
Roxy leans in, so close that June can see the individual flecks of color in her eyes. “June Egbert,” she says, ridiculous and earnest all at once. “Will you go on a date with me that does not involve fundraising, public smooching, or Jade yelling about dogs in the background?”
“Yes,” June says, immediately, like her whole body’s been waiting for that question. “Absolutely yes.”
“Cool,” Roxy says, exhaling like she’d been holding her breath too. “Great. Amazing. In that case-” Her hand finds June’s again, fingers threading through. “I think the booth is officially closed,” she announces. “Final kiss of the night?”
There’s no donation jar between them now, no cardboard sign, no pretense of doing this for anyone but themselves. The fairy lights glow overhead, turning Roxy’s hair into a halo of pink and gold. Somewhere across the quad, someone cheers as the dunk tank finally shuts down. It all feels very far away.
June smiles, steady and sure. “Yeah,” she says. “Final kiss.”
This time when Roxy leans in, June meets her halfway, feet planted, heart pounding for all the right reasons. The kiss is deeper, slower, all the lingering hesitance burned off by the day. Roxy’s free hand slips to June’s waist, anchoring her, and June lets herself melt into it - into her.
It feels like a beginning.
When they finally part, Roxy rests her forehead against June’s, breathing a little faster.
“For charity,” June whispers, because she can’t resist.
Roxy huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. “Nah,” she says. “This one’s just for you.”
Later, as they pack up the last of the decorations, stuffed dog tucked under one arm and fingers still intertwined, June catches sight of the faded “1 KISS = $1” sign leaning against the table.
She thinks of all the lips that touched hers that day, all the small moments of courage and connection, all the ways she felt seen. And she thinks of how it ended not with a transaction, but with a promise.
It turns out, kissing booth duty was good for more than just the animals.
It was good for her heart, too.