The Bet
I met him on a Tuesday.
By Friday, we had a bet.
By Sunday, I was wishing I had never agreed to it.
It all started because my best friend couldn't mind her own business.
"You're twenty-seven,"Maya said, staring at me over the rim of her glass. "You can't keep saying you're too busy for dating."
"I didn't say I'm too busy."
"You said dating is inconvenient."
"It is"
She rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."
"I prefer selective."
"You’ve been single for two years."
"Three."
"That doesn't help your argument."
I took another sip of my drink and looked around the crowded restaurant. Everyone seemed to be paired off. Couples were laughing across tables, sharing food, stealing little bites from each other’s plates.
It was cute.
Annoyingly cute.
But I wasn't jealous.
At least, that's what I told myself.
Then someone pulled out the chair beside me.
"Is this seat taken?"
I looked up.
He was tall, wearing a black shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Nothing particularly remarkable.
Except for the smile.
That stupid, effortless smile.
I glanced at Maya.
She was already grinning.
"No," I said.
He sat down.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
A silence settled between us.
I returned my attention to my phone.
Then he leaned slightly toward me.
"You always this friendly?"
I looked at him.
"You always this annoying?"
His smile widened.
"Only when it works."
I should have ignored him.
Instead, I laughed.
And apparently, that was my first mistake.
Because twenty minutes later, somehow, we were arguing about whether two people could fall in love in seven days.
"I could," he said.
I nearly choked on my drink.
"In seven days?"
"Absolutely."
"You don't even know someone in seven days."
"You can know enough."
"No, you can't."
He tilted his head. "You sound very confident."
"I am."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Seven days."
I frowned.
He held out his hand.
"Let’s find out."
I stared at his hand.
Then at him.
"This is ridiculous."
"Probably."
"You don’t even know me."
"Exactly."
Maya was practically vibrating with excitement beside us.
I should have walked away.
Instead, I shook his hand.
"Seven days."
He smiled.
"Seven days."
Neither of us said what happened if one of us actually fell in love.
We didn’t think we’d need to.
We were both wrong.
