The Bet (Just The Way You Are)

The Bet *Wrong Turn

When I finish, Parker says, “Your parents sure have a reason why they want you to move out.”

“I hope so,” I murmur.

“Who’s Andre?” He asks curiously.

“Drake’s best friend,” I say automatically.

He nods thoughtfully, and glances uneasily behind him.

My eyes furrows as I look over his shoulder but I don’t see anything interesting.

“He’s the son of the other car,” I whisper softly.

Parker chokes the cake he’s eating. I give him water and help him drink it. “Really?” He asks after coughing.

“Yes,” I say, slurping my milkshake.

He cocks his head to the side, and is silent for a moment.

“Andre just told me last night,” I admit quietly.

“Your parents didn’t tell you,” he observes.

“My parents don’t know that I know now.”

“Are going to tell them?” He asks quietly.

“I’m not planning to,” I murmur. I don’t know why we’re talking in hush voices, but I like it.

Parker gets something from his satchel. “This is for you,” he says, handing me a paper bag.

“Me?” I ask, pointing to myself.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I mean the person beside you,” he says sarcastically.

“Same old Parker,” I mutter.

The corner of his mouth twitches upward.

“What is this?” I ask, getting the bag from his hand. It’s not heavy.

“Why don’t you open it and see for yourself?” He asks amusedly. And then he glances behind him.

“What?” I ask. What is he looking behind him?

“Nothing,” he says slyly. “Just open it.”

Rolling my eyes, I pull the ribbon off the bag. Opening it, I find a lot of confetti’s inside. “What’s this?” I ask dryly.

“Why don’t you get the thing inside it?” He says, using the tone I used.

Heaving a sigh, I get the thing from the paper bag.

A gasp escapes from my lips as I look at the dress in front of me. I glance at Parker to see him smiling broadly, his eyes glittering in delight.

“Do you like it?” He asks excitedly.

“No,” I murmur, staring at the dress.

His smile falters and he looks a bit hurt.

“Parker,” I whisper. “Where did you get this dress?” It’s sleeveless. The upper part is gray, and the skirt is white. In the middle of the bodice is a zipper, I’m glad it’s just a design, and cannot be open. When I wear it, it will fall a few inches above my knees.

“You don’t like it,” he states, looking away.

“Are you insane?” I ask, laughing now. “Of course I don’t like it. I love it!”

He grins, showing his perfect white teeth. ‘I’m glad you do,” he says, “because that’s my birthday gift for you.”

“Birthday gift?” I repeat.

“Yes,” he says, looking at me oddly. “Your birthday is next week.”

“What?” I ask incredulously.