The LBGT Kissing Booth

The Kissing Booth

Valencia drilled her acrylic nails onto the Kissing Booth's table. So far, nobody. Zip, zero, nada. This was a good enough idea, and she was a pretty enough girl. The only reason why this whole fundraising idea wasn't slating out was because of that stupid rumor that had been started a couple months prior. Despite that, the gossip mill was still circulating strong because of it. She despised it, but there was nothing that she could do now except to hold her head high and carry on.

"Come on guys, I don't actually have stds! And even if I did, for the last time, you can't  get them from just kissing!" 

Students continued to mill past her, jeering as they passed by the Booth. The only ones who would even pay a smidgeon of attention to her were the kids who didn't have a chance in hell of getting someone to kiss them. One that they didn't find at the nearest Rent-A-Girlfriend, anyways. Valencia poked the glass jar containing the possible pity-money from her classmates, at least the ones that tolerated her. The few dollar bills and quarters rattled around lazily, matching her current mood. 

Valencia examined the acrylic nails she'd gotten yesterday with a lazy disinterest, thinking back to when she'd first gotten them, when she heard snickering coming from the other side of the booth. She peered down, only to spot the same people that watched pornography in class, and attempted to flirt with the teachers to raise their deplorable grades. Not that it'd ever worked; this were some of the talentless, most hated, and greasiest people to ever disgrace the earth with their presence, for lack of better words. She hated them with every fiber of her being, but business was business.

"Alright, which one of you is the lucky guy!" She put on her fakest, sickly-sweet tone she could. She only had to pretend  to want to kiss the slime balls, not actually want to push her lips against theirs. 

"Wow? Did you just assume our gender," one of them mocked, and the mini-mob parted, and they pushed forth a small girl, who looked about as pleased to do this as the teachers do to teach the ruffians in the school. "We'll give you twenty dollars to make out with her. Deal?" Val felt herself physically gag as she watched them take out their phones and tilt them sideways, to record. A rise of bile fought its way up her throat; the level of their perversion was unmatched. The idea that they'd fetishize that repulsed her, just to get a laugh out of it was disgusting. No, not even that. It was downright disgusting. 

She stepped forwards out of the booth and snatched the crumpled twenty from their hands, dropping it in the jar. Without a second thought, she tilted her head and locked lips with the girl, using a single hand to hold her face, and the other to hold her middle finger up.