Chapter Three: The bet.
1421 Words
I refused to think about Toby Hayes on Saturday morning.
I especially refused to think about the way he had looked at me after hitting that home run.
I definitely wasn't thinking about the fact that I had smiled back.
That would have been ridiculous.
I had only gone to the game because Maya wouldn't stop bothering me.
That was my story, and I was sticking to it.
Unfortunately, Toby had apparently decided otherwise.
Because when I walked into the student center that afternoon, he was sitting at a table directly in my path.
He looked up from his phone.
Then smiled.
I stopped.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Are you going to walk past me or are you planning to stand there all day?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“You're everywhere.”
“Maybe you're everywhere.”
“I was here first.”
“Were you?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
“What?”
He leaned back in his chair.
“I got here ten minutes ago.”
“So?”
“So maybe you're following me.”
I laughed.
“Your ego needs its own zip code.”
He grinned.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't want to.”
“That's not a good reason.”
“It's an excellent reason.”
I started walking past him.
“Zikora.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“You cheered for me last night.”
I turned around.
“No, I didn't.”
“You did.”
“I was cheering for the team.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly.
“Then why were you looking directly at me?”
I stared at him.
“Because you were playing.”
“Exactly.”
“That's how baseball works.”
He laughed.
I hated that laugh.
Mostly because I was starting to like it.
“Come sit,” he said again.
I sighed and dropped into the chair opposite him.
“Five minutes.”
“Ten.”
“Five.”
“Seven.”
“Five.”
“Deal.”
He smiled like he'd won something.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're weird.”
“So I've been told.”
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he pushed a notebook toward me.
I frowned.
“What is this?”
“Your notebook.”
I looked at the cover.
My name was written across it.
I recognized it immediately.
“You had this?”
“You left it in the library yesterday.”
I reached for it.
He pulled it back.
I glared.
“Toby.”
“You owe me.”
“For returning my notebook?”
“For saving it.”
“You didn't save it. You picked it up.”
“Exactly.”
“That isn't saving.”
He shrugged.
“Depends how dramatic you want to be.”
I held out my hand.
“Give it.”
“Say please.”
I stared at him.
“You're unbelievable.”
“I'm waiting.”
“Please.”
He handed it over.
I grabbed it and immediately checked the pages.
Everything was there.
“You're lucky,” I muttered.
“I know.”
I closed the notebook.
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
He leaned forward.
“Now we're even.”
“We were never keeping score.”
His smile became strangely competitive.
“Actually, I think we should.”
I frowned.
“Keep score of what?”
“Us.”
“Us?”
“Our little rivalry.”
I laughed.
“You think this is a rivalry?”
“Definitely.”
“You're the one who keeps bothering me.”
“And you keep responding.”
“Because you annoy me.”
“Exactly.”
He reached across the table and stole one of the fries from my tray.
I slapped his hand.
“Hey!”
He laughed.
“You see?”
“See what?”
“You react every time.”
I folded my arms.
“You're like a child.”
“Maybe.”
He pointed toward me.
“Let's make it interesting.”
I should have said no.
Instead, I asked, “How?”
“Challenges.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“What kind?”
“Anything.”
“That sounds stupid.”
“You scared?”
I stared at him.
There it was.
That stupid little smirk.
The challenge.
My pride immediately woke up.
“No.”
“No what?”
“I'm not scared.”
“Then prove it.”
I leaned forward.
“Fine.”
His smile widened.
“First challenge?”
“Go ahead.”
He looked toward the large television hanging above the cafeteria counter.
A college football game was playing.
“Trivia.”
I laughed.
“Seriously?”
“Unless you're scared.”
“I know sports.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He pulled out his phone.
“Okay.”
He searched for something.
Then placed the phone on the table.
“Five questions.”
“Fine.”
“Winner gets to choose the loser's punishment.”
I paused.
“What kind of punishment?”
“Nothing dangerous.”
“That wasn't my question.”
He smiled.
“You'll find out.”
I should have walked away.
Instead, I nodded.
“Fine.”
The first question was easy.
I answered it.
The second was even easier.
I answered that too.
By the fourth question, Toby was staring at me.
“What?”
“You actually know this stuff.”
“I told you.”
“I thought you were bluffing.”
“I don't bluff.”
The fifth question appeared.
Toby read it.
Then looked at me.
“This one is yours.”
I answered.
He checked the answer.
Correct.
He groaned.
“No way.”
I laughed.
“You're terrible.”
“You got lucky.”
“Five questions.”
“Again.”
“No.”
“Come on.”
“You said five.”
He leaned closer.
“Best two out of three.”
“That's not how five questions work.”
“Please?”
I blinked.
He was using my own word against me.
I laughed despite myself.
“Fine.”
We played again.
He won.
Then I won.
The final round came down to one question.
Toby looked at the screen.
Then at me.
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
He read the question.
I thought.
Then answered.
Silence.
Toby checked the answer.
He slowly put his phone down.
“You won.”
I smiled.
“I know.”
He shook his head.
“You're annoyingly competitive.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn't a compliment.”
“I'll take it anyway.”
He leaned back.
“So.”
“So?”
“You won.”
“Yes.”
“What do you want?”
I hadn't thought that far.
I looked around the student center.
Then an idea came to me.
I smiled.
“I want you to admit something.”
His expression became cautious.
“What?”
“That I'm better than you.”
He laughed.
“Absolutely not.”
“You said the winner chooses.”
“I did.”
“So admit it.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then sighed.
“Fine.”
I waited.
He leaned forward.
“Zikora Hayes is better than me.”
I smiled triumphantly.
“Thank you.”
“But…”
I frowned.
“But what?”
He smiled.
“I still think I'm better looking.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Your punishment is canceled.”
“No take-backs.”
He stood.
“Same time tomorrow?”
“For what?”
“Our next challenge.”
I stared at him.
“We're doing this again?”
“You agreed.”
“I agreed to one.”
“You won, and now you're addicted.”
I laughed.
“Goodbye, Toby.”
He walked backward, smiling.
“See you tomorrow, rival.”
I shook my head.
But as he disappeared into the crowd, I couldn't help smiling.
I had expected university to be about studying, making friends, and figuring out what I wanted from my future.
I hadn't expected Toby Hayes.
And I certainly hadn't expected to enjoy having him around.
That was the problem.
Because somewhere between the arguments, the challenges, and the ridiculous little smiles, our rivalry was starting to feel like something else.
Something I wasn't ready to name.
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