enough my first time riding in this kind of car, so let’s have us some fun.”
He stops and thinks, hands still going, eyes sparkling as he turns toward me again. “Now, it’s a simple bet. Nothing to it really. We’ll just do this. I don’t even know your name yet. And before you tell me, I’m going to guess the first letter of it.”
“What a stupid bet,” I say, “There’s no way you’re going to guess which of the twenty-four letters starts my first name.”
“You’re very quick to count me out.” he says, smiling and winking.
“Well, do you want to give yourself a better chance? That’s almost unfair.”
“I’m good,” he says. His eyes lower and lock with mine. The corner of his lips drop and he leans in close to me.
He is close enough that I can feel the heat of his breath on my face. God, he is even more gorgeous up close. I want him to forget about the bet now and just kiss me. I ready myself for that.
Instead, he leans in further and whispers, “Now, here’s what we’ll do. If you win, I give you the granola bar….
Okay, fair enough.
“And when I win, you have to kiss me.”
Kiss you… wait, what? I draw back.
That is a long way from the bet I had in mind. Not even the pangs in my stomach can stop me from what I say next.
“Ha! That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t even know you. What kind of a bet is that?”
“Well, that’s what makes it such an easy bet for you to take. We’ll likely never see each other again.”
“Okay, yeah, so I’ll just smooch with you cuz we’ll never see each other again,” I say, brushing my hair back over my shoulder.”
“Well,” he says, “Here are the rest of the facts: this granola bar is good, really good. There’s nothing else to eat in this car. In your condition- and considering the fact that the next town is likely three hours away on this route- I’m saying you’re going to want to eat this granola bar.”
He sits back now, and by the look on his face, is very pleased with himself. It’s such a stupid bet. Kiss me ? Not a chance.
But part of me wants to just go for it. If he wins, so what. He is so super-hot.
And no one will ever know the difference.
“Okay, this is ridiculous, but since the probability is hugely on my side, I’ll take your bet,” I say, half shocked, half excited, half hoping… he wins.
He claps his hands together, stands up, and says, “Now that’s the kind of girl I like. A risk-taker. I knew there was something about you when you got into this here rail car.”
“Okay,” he continues, “So, your first name, let me think-“
The pangs in my stomach are relentless now.
“-Wait,” I interrupt. “I want to be very clear about this. When you are wrong, I get the granola bar. The WHOLE granola bar. Not a split.”
“That’s right. And I don’t have to repeat what I get, now do I?” he says.
“Okay, take your guess,” I say, as the pangs in my stomach turn to butterflies.
“Okay, then,” he starts. “Here I go…”
He turns his head up, puts his fingers to his chin as if he is thinking deeply and then points at me, shaking his hand up and down.
“I know…” he concludes, “Your name begins with a ‘C’.”
I turn my face to the side, in shock, wanting to hide the red flames that have come across my cheeks.
How on earth did he get that right? Twenty-four letters. He gets the one.
I can’t face this reality. I can’t. I’m about to overheat.
I turn to him. Think Cora, THINK, I tell myself.
“A… Nope,” I say. “It’s an ‘S’.”
“An ‘S’, he says, turning his head slightly, eyes coming down closer to inspect mine.
The heat doesn’t leave my face and I turn shyly to the right.
“And what would that be for?” he inquires.
“It’s Sally,” I say sheepishly.
“Sally,” he says. “Okay Sally, here’s your granola bar.”
He sits back against the
He stops and thinks, hands still going, eyes sparkling as he turns toward me again. “Now, it’s a simple bet. Nothing to it really. We’ll just do this. I don’t even know your name yet. And before you tell me, I’m going to guess the first letter of it.”
“What a stupid bet,” I say, “There’s no way you’re going to guess which of the twenty-four letters starts my first name.”
“You’re very quick to count me out.” he says, smiling and winking.
“Well, do you want to give yourself a better chance? That’s almost unfair.”
“I’m good,” he says. His eyes lower and lock with mine. The corner of his lips drop and he leans in close to me.
He is close enough that I can feel the heat of his breath on my face. God, he is even more gorgeous up close. I want him to forget about the bet now and just kiss me. I ready myself for that.
Instead, he leans in further and whispers, “Now, here’s what we’ll do. If you win, I give you the granola bar….
Okay, fair enough.
“And when I win, you have to kiss me.”
Kiss you… wait, what? I draw back.
That is a long way from the bet I had in mind. Not even the pangs in my stomach can stop me from what I say next.
“Ha! That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t even know you. What kind of a bet is that?”
“Well, that’s what makes it such an easy bet for you to take. We’ll likely never see each other again.”
“Okay, yeah, so I’ll just smooch with you cuz we’ll never see each other again,” I say, brushing my hair back over my shoulder.”
“Well,” he says, “Here are the rest of the facts: this granola bar is good, really good. There’s nothing else to eat in this car. In your condition- and considering the fact that the next town is likely three hours away on this route- I’m saying you’re going to want to eat this granola bar.”
He sits back now, and by the look on his face, is very pleased with himself. It’s such a stupid bet. Kiss me ? Not a chance.
But part of me wants to just go for it. If he wins, so what. He is so super-hot.
And no one will ever know the difference.
“Okay, this is ridiculous, but since the probability is hugely on my side, I’ll take your bet,” I say, half shocked, half excited, half hoping… he wins.
He claps his hands together, stands up, and says, “Now that’s the kind of girl I like. A risk-taker. I knew there was something about you when you got into this here rail car.”
“Okay,” he continues, “So, your first name, let me think-“
The pangs in my stomach are relentless now.
“-Wait,” I interrupt. “I want to be very clear about this. When you are wrong, I get the granola bar. The WHOLE granola bar. Not a split.”
“That’s right. And I don’t have to repeat what I get, now do I?” he says.
“Okay, take your guess,” I say, as the pangs in my stomach turn to butterflies.
“Okay, then,” he starts. “Here I go…”
He turns his head up, puts his fingers to his chin as if he is thinking deeply and then points at me, shaking his hand up and down.
“I know…” he concludes, “Your name begins with a ‘C’.”
I turn my face to the side, in shock, wanting to hide the red flames that have come across my cheeks.
How on earth did he get that right? Twenty-four letters. He gets the one.
I can’t face this reality. I can’t. I’m about to overheat.
I turn to him. Think Cora, THINK, I tell myself.
“A… Nope,” I say. “It’s an ‘S’.”
“An ‘S’, he says, turning his head slightly, eyes coming down closer to inspect mine.
The heat doesn’t leave my face and I turn shyly to the right.
“And what would that be for?” he inquires.
“It’s Sally,” I say sheepishly.
“Sally,” he says. “Okay Sally, here’s your granola bar.”
He sits back against the
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