Pretzel Girl

"Fate"

"He wasn't wearing a shirt?!" My mom asks, turning to face me, dramatically. I nod, raising my eyebrows, as I dump the noodles into the strainer. It's nice to be around other food besides pretzels every once in a while. I had just told her about the incident with the chair and the model and she set up a doctors appointment for me in the morning and was apparently also trying to set up a way for me to get the guy's number. Perfect.

She sits on the counter in our small but cute kitchen, facing me, and swinging her legs to kick the wooden cabinets underneath her repeatedly as I stir the tomato sauce. "This is fate, Addison." I laugh loudly, clutching my stomach. "You're funny, mom." "I'm serious, Ad! When do you ever see a fit model going and buying pretzels? Unless there's a pretty girl selling them." Her smirk shoots daggers into my back and it takes all of my will power not to meet her eyes. I look at my reflection in the microwave door instead, and shake my head. "He's perfect. Like guys from the movies." I state, remembering his full lipped smile when I was teasing him about his eating habits.

Would I be able to get his number? Am I brave enough?

My last relationship was a disaster. I had been best friends with the boy I met in 6th grade science, up until our sophomore year when he decided he actually had feelings for me.

I didn't know what to do. I had never been in that type of situation before. So I professed that I felt the same way in order to spare his feelings.

It was the most awkward "relationship" you can imagine. I was constantly wishing we could just go back to being best friends and stop embarrassing ourselves.

You would think that since we were such great friends before, we wouldn't act any different as a couple. You're wrong.

Our personalities changed as soon as we inherited the "boyfriend/girlfriend" titles. Who used to be my comfort and one of my only outlets became someone I felt like I needed to prove myself to.

It didn't end horribly. There was no cheating or tears. It was mutual. I recall that relationship as a mistake, though, because when we decided that it was time to end things, I lost my best friend in the process of breaking up with my boyfriend.

"We only spoke once. Nothing's going to happen from that. I probably won't even see him again." I shrug. "Until tomorrow!" She says, squealing like a fan girl. I wasn't surprised. You should see her watching Jim and Pam on the Office, it practically has her in tears.

"Shut up." I laugh, flinging tomato sauce at her, from the wooden spoon in my hand. She screams, blocking her face from the strike. "I'm going to go start a load of clothes. Including this." She says, examining her now tomato plastered shirt, chuckling, then kissing the top of my head before retiring from the kitchen.

My face flushes at the thought of seeing him the next day. Does he even work on the weekends? Either way, how do I know if he's going to buy pretzels again? My mind replays the events of our encounter when realization hits me. He didn't pay for those pretzels! 

Does this give me an excuse to see him again?