The Choices We Make

Chapter 10 - Takeout: Hot & Spicy

I toss the bag of kernels into the microwave, close the door, press the appropriate buttons and take a step back as the low hum pierces through the silent kitchen.

My mind scarcely acknowledges the sound, more preoccupied with recounting the events of today. Of the past week to be precise.

Things between mystery guy and I have been going well. And yes, I said mystery guy. So far, I've found out that he's a senior who's an aspiring artist and a big dog-lover. I'll admit that when we first started writing to each other it didn't matter to me who was on the other end of the pencil. But it's been three weeks since then and now that we've gotten to know each other better—maybe even formed a friendship? —I'm more than curious to find out who he is.

So, I asked.

"Why ruin what we've got going? Anonymity adds thrill and suspense."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, come ondon't tell me you're not in the least bit curious to find out who I am."

"Okay fine, I am. But if we're going to do this, let's make it interesting."

"Interesting how?"

"A bet to see who can figure out the identity of the other first."

"Whats the prize?"

"Whatever the winner wants. So, you in?"

"Yeah, I'm in."

The loud beeping of the microwave pulls me out of my reverie, but the contentment of today and the anticipation of what will be waiting for me on the desk come Monday afternoon, still floods my body as I pour the contents of the bag into a bowl.

A senior, a dog lover, an aspiring artist. That could literally be ¾ of Edgewood high's teenage population. But I wasn't one to back down from a good bet. I'll just have to find a way to make him reveal himself to me with him even knowing.

"It's about time!" Isla exclaims from her spot on the couch as I stroll in the living room with my bowl of popcorn.

"What are we watching?" I ask, stuffing my mouth with the buttery goodness.

"Hold that thought." Matt stands from his seat on the carpeted floor, squeezing his legs together. "I have to use the bathroom."

"So," Isla peeps over the couch, making sure that Matt isn't within earshot. "About tomorrow. I was thinking that you can hitch a ride with Daniel, and Matt and I can meet you guys there."

"Why?" I roll my eyes at her, tired of her pointless matchmaking. "There's enough room in your car for the three of us, so why make Daniel drive all the way over here when he could just meet us at the center."

"He says he's fine with picking you up," she shrugs her shoulders.

My head whips around to face her, popcorn long forgotten. "You asked him to pick me up?"

"No, he volunteered," she drawls, reaching into the bowl sitting on my lap, but I angrily slap her hand away. She didn't deserve my popcorn.

"Come on, Carys. Work with me here. I'm just trying to help."

"Why?" I throw my hands in the air in annoyance. "Why are you so hell-bent on getting me to spend time with Daniel? If you're tired of seeing me as the pathetic, lonely third wheel trailing behind you and Matt whenever you guys hang out, then just say so. I can take a hint."

"Don't be ridiculous," Isla huffs, "You're my best friend and I just want to see you happy."

I open my mouth, ready to defend myself. To tell her that I don't need some guy to make me happy. That's what my books and food are for. But she clamps her hand over my mouth.