Wrong Side Of The Bed

39 | i've got issues, but you got 'em too.

He scowled. "I have some other colors in my closet too — like a blue sweater, red coat, plenty of white shirts, navy blue suits, and so on. I think that's enough."

"Enough? That's like four colors other than black, beige and brown!" I frowned. "This upcoming birthday, I will give you an entire wardrobe as a gift — with additions that will have a little more colour, and you'll be thanking me then. A lot of colours suit the blush that creeps up your cheek when I say flirty stuff."

As if on cue, red rose up his neck and up his ears and cheeks. I laughed. "See what I am talking about?"

"Shut up, witch," He sneered at me and I shrugged, still laughing. "I can't believe I am willingly sitting with you when you are jeering at me so much. You've fed me a love potion, have you not? I know you're working magic on me."

"Duh," I added, rolling my eyes. "Obviously, I did magic on you. But unfortunately I do not have counter-magic techniques to reverse the effects, so I guess you're stuck with me, bookworm."

Our food came in and Sinclair almost dug in instantly. By the time I was halfway done with my cup of coffee, Sinclair had scarfed down his drink and all the food on his plate — with not even a single crumb left. Jesus.

"Okay, I think it's time I finally tell you," Sinclair said. Putting back the half-eaten cookie back on my plate, I turned my entire attention to him.

"Go on, then."

"As you know, I was an early action student and had gotten my college applications submitted by November, right?" I nodded. He proceeded. "And today, five minutes before I called you and asked you to meet up, I got a letter from Cornell in the mail, and I am pretty sure that it’ll tell me whether I got in or not.”

"Oh my, so you haven't opened the mail yet?" I exclaimed, exhaling sharply as I reached out to grab his hand. He shook his head. My eyes widened ever-so-slightly. "Sinclair, how are you feeling? On a scale of one-to-ten, exactly how anxious are you right now?" 

"A twenty? I don't know," He said, squeezing my hand. "I was holding back my anxiety in, but now that I've finally told you that — I can't seem to hold it back in anymore. My heart feels like it's about to explode, Walter. I might spontaneously combust right here as we speak. I am—"

I downed the rest of my coffee in one huge gulp and stuffed the rest of my cookie in Sinclair's mouth to calm him down. It seemed to work. I signaled for the waiter to bring our bill, and then I turned to Sinclair, nodding at him intently. 

"Don't worry, Sinclair. I know the best place for you to open the mail. And before that, to take the edge off a little — I know where to take you. I know just the place."

● ● ● 

"I AM NEVER TALKING to you again," Sinclair all but snarled at me as I grinned, following him. "Don't ever look at me anymore."

"Aw, baby," I said, jogging after him and slipping my arm into his. He rolled his eyes dramatically but didn't slip away from my grasp, and I took that as my green signal. "Don't be so angry. You know my method was effective."

"I do not care!" He shrieked, shaking his head. "Bloody rock climbing! In all my seventeen years of living, I had never once thought that I'd have to do it! But here we are."

I grinned, my mind flashing back to scenes of Sinclair holding onto the rope, and onto the stepping stones for his dear life while I was yelling at him to get up already from the top. Ah, that scene was certainly going to be one of my fondest memories.

"Don't be so upset," I murmured in a teasing voice, shoving his shoulder with mine. "When you were holding onto the rock for your dear life at only half of the height, tell me, were you thinking of the selection results?"