Flowers and Pop Rocks

29

p o p p y

It had been a boring week, mostly because I had to spend the majority of it cooped up in my room, doing homework and studying. I only had a week left before Thanksgiving, my long-awaited break.

The weekend was about to come up, and I couldn't wait to sleep in and finally not think of school again.

I honestly didn't expect much from my day, just that it would be just as boring as the rest of the days of the week up until I got home and I could finally binge watch shows with no care in the world.

Probably the only remotely interesting thing that came out of this week was how close Caleb and I had gotten. Maybe it was because we'd finally gone out again last weekend and got to know each other better.

We'd also eaten lunch together a few times when Angel had stuff to do. I found out he eats by the field sometimes when he wanted to be somewhere more quiet, and I decided to join him.

"Eating with me again today?" Caleb asked, turning to me as I sat beside him on the bleachers.

"Sick of me already?" I teased. "Angel's been busy with student council stuff, and you're the next best option."

He nodded. "So I'm the second choice?"

"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds mean," I commented. "You know that's not what I meant at all."

"I know, Pop Rocks, chill," he bumped my shoulder.

"Ready for the quick break?" I asked, staring out at the field as people messed around with their friends.

"Yeah, it's gonna be my first American Thanksgiving," he smiled before offering some of his fries to me. "Want some?"

I shook my head, declining. "It's okay, I'm not that hungry. Probably won't have lunch."

"Oh, okay," he retracted his hand. "More for me then."

We sat in silence for a while, just watching everyone else around us.

"Have I told you how much fun I had last Saturday with you?" he spoke, still not looking in my direction.

"Maybe like three times now," I recalled, laughing a little.

"Yeah, I figured," he chuckled, shaking his head.

I took his hand from my knee and examined it as we conversed.

"Since when did you wear rings?"

"Eh, I like to bust them out from time to time to get the ladies curious," he humored me. "It works, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I'll admit, it works. It's like you're married to three different people."

HIs laugh grew even louder at my words. "Never heard that one before."

"Yeah, it's like you have a heck ton of wedding rings but you don't know which finger the ring is supposed to go on," I laughed with him. "That or you've been proposed to by three people."

"Well," he slipped one of the rings off his fingers, looking at it. "Would you do me the honor of becoming one of my wives, m'lady?"

I stared at him in disbelief, mostly because he somehow managed to say that all with a straight face and a horrible fake British accent. "It would be my pleasure, good sir."

The two of us burst out laughing at my answer, enough to make a few people turn in our direction and roll their eyes at us.

"Remind me to give it back to you, okay?" I slipped the ring on my thumb, the only finger it fit on without falling off. "Now let's get to class. I have to wake myself up in preparation for our teacher's attempts to bore us to sleep."