The Bet

Chapter 14 - When You Assume You Make an Ass out of You and Me

                “Hey, Chris,” she said, pulling out her keys and opening her front door so that they could go in, “We need to talk.”

                With those four words, his face fell. Amy almost slapped herself across the forehead. Why would she say something like that? Everyone knew that “we need to talk” meant “we need to break up” or in their case “you need to leave”.

                “Oh,” she gasped, “Not like that! Chris, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said quickly, trying to catch her little slip. “I just meant, um, I want to talk to you.”

                The lines in his forehead disappeared and he smiled, “Good because I want to talk to you too,” he mocked, leaning against the post that separated the kitchen and the living room.

                Amy smiled too. It was hard not to when she saw Chris. He was playful and honest, and not at all like she expected him to be. Maybe she was just over thinking everything about him, but she liked the way he did little things and made her laugh all the time.

                “Um,” she stuttered happily, bringing a blush to her face, “You go first, then,” she said, biting her lip.

                Chris nodded and pulled her over to the kitchen and took a seat on one of the two bar stools facing the island. Amy took the other and he faced her, “Well, there’s this girl,” he started, taking her hand on the counter and absentmindedly rubbing his thumb against the top of her palm. Chris looked lost in thought, “And I don’t see her all that often or anything but I saw her today and she was sad – I guess I realized that I cared for her a little bit more than I thought...” Amy bit her lip harder. Wait, was he talking about her? It sounded like it. And that comfortable he was doing with their hands said that maybe he just possibly could like her.

                “Well anyways, I know she likes me too,” he said and Amy’s cheeks started to burn. Was it that easy to tell that she liked him?

                Suddenly, she had no doubts that he was talking about her and she cheered mentally. At least now she couldn’t have to ask him to call of the bet and they could start dating.

                “I guess what I’m asking is advice. Should I ask her out?” Chris said, glancing back at her and smirking, “You’re all red,” he pointed out. Amy scolded herself. This was embarrassing.

                “It’s just a bit, uh, hot in here,” she lied smoothly, pulling her hand away so that she wouldn’t lose herself in his touch again, “But as for you problem – I say ask her out,” she said with a commanding smile. Amy looked up at him through her lashes as he ruffled her hair.

                Chris laughed, “Thanks,” he said, standing up from the chair in a leap, “I think I will. It’s good to be able to talk to someone though. I mean, the guys would have wanted me to ask Mel out because she’s hot but since you haven’t seen her, I guess I should trust your opinion more.”

                Amy winced. Her name was like a slap in the face or a wakeup call from reality. “Mel?” she asked weakly. Who was she kidding? Chris would never see her as anything other than a friend. She wasn’t as pretty as a lot of the girls or as popular, and if he dated her, his reputation would definitely take fall.

                She didn’t really believe that he cared about all of that stuff too much, but Amy still knew that he was out of her league.

                “Yeah, Mel – Melissa Betham?” he asked, “She goes to Glendon High,” he stated, shrugging to see if she knew the girl.

                It didn’t matter if Amy recognized her though. When Chris talked about her, a pang of jealousy and hopelessness left her feeling defeated.

                Well, at least she knew now that it was never going to happen between her and Chris. Amy was bitterly grateful of Melissa for diminishing all of her false hope.

                Amy looked out her window as she shook her head at Chris. She had no idea who this girl was or what she looked like. She didn’t care because the only literate thought that she could muster was oozing with dark humoured sarcasm. 

                “What did you want to tell me?” Chris asked, trying to change the topic.

                Amy’s face lost its colour like a bucket of water being poured out until it was empty, “Hm? Oh, um, it’s nothing.”

                Chris looked suspicious and ran his hand through his hair, eyeing her over.

                “Really, it’s nothing. It’s not important,” she said, offering a weak smile, “Not anymore.”