Comfort Zone

Apparently I'm Quite the Conundrum

"Cupcake. Clever," I say, tearing my eyes off of my book and moving them up to meet his.

"I thought so too," he smirks.

"This is borderline stalkerish, you do know that right?" I ask, putting my book down and hoping off my stool.

"Now, wait a minute. Why do you think that I came here for you? I didn't even know you worked here," he says with faux hurt. He almost sounds serious but his stupid smirk gives him away.

"Violet told me you were asking people about me at the game."

He laughs and pretends like this doesn't embarrass him, but his face turns a few shades pinker, and his hands move up to scratch the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"I guess I wasn't exactly subtle," he says with a slight wince.

I chuckle and shake my head, no.

"Well, Henley Baker. If you must know, I am quite intrigued by you."

"Oh really?"

"Really. You throw yourself in the middle of a fight to stop some asshole you obviously don't even like from getting pummeled. You're super funny and confident, and friends with one of the most popular girls in school. However, everyone seems to think your mute or something."

I'm a bit taken aback by this. That was quite the little speech he just gave.

"You've done your research."

"Yes I have," he grins. "I was on a mission to figure you out."

"And did you?" question.

"Not quite. For that I'm going to have to get some information from the source herself."

I scoff.

"However, I did figure out one thing."

"Do tell."

"You're scared," he says, inching closer to the counter.

"Scared?" I question.

"Mhm, I don't know exactly what it is you're scared of. You don't seem like somebody who really cares about what people think of you, yet you're living life in your own little bubble, a comfort zone."

"I am not," I argue defensively. Where does he get off telling me who I am? A few chats with some gossipy teenagers and suddenly he's an expert on me?

"Prove it," he challenges.

"How the hell do you want me to do that?" I bark. Gosh, he's infuriating.

"Let's make a bet," he says calmly.

"A bet?" I snap. "What kind of bet?"

"For the rest of the semester you start saying yes more often," he starts.

"Saying yes more often?" I question, unsure of what that's supposed to mean and how it's supposed to prove that I'm not scared of the unseen, menacing factor the Rhett seems to think is holding me back.

"I''ll ask you to go do certain normal, teenage, out of your comfort zone things, and don't worry, they'll be reasonable. And all you have to do is say yes. Unless you're scared that is?" He says, raising his eyebrows up on the last part, as if to challenge me.

"And if I don't do one of these things?"

"Then you lose and you have to kiss me," he smirks.

"Whats up with this desperate need for a kiss?" I groan. "You do realize that almost every other girl in our school is dying to kiss you right?"