Chapter 3:

I wake up the next morning with the headache I deserve…..I should've known better than to let you choose our drinks last night.

Long Island Ice Teas are no one's friend.

And to top it off, I've got an early meeting at work.

Before I leave, I take pity on you and fix your morning coffee and bagel and sit it on your bedside table.

I only had a slight buzz last night and I feel bad, so you're going to feel 10 times worse.

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When I arrive to meet you at our favorite coffee shop after work, you're reclined in an overstuffed armchair, your usual cream with a splash of coffee in hand as you read one of those free newspapers they always have sitting around.

I look over your shoulder and snort-laugh at the title of the article you're reading.

"Woman Accused of Shooting Up Meth and Riding on Scooter Through Walmart While Eating Chicken and Drinking Wine"

"Someone knows how to party," I quip.

You glance up at me startled and put the newspaper down on the table beside you. Leaning against the arm rest with your head balanced on your hand, you finally huff out a greeting. "Hey."

I can tell by your color and the state of your hair that you still don't feel good. "Rough day?"

"The roughest."

"Like college graduation rough?" I ask with a wince.

You purse your mouth for a second as if you're considering it. "Well, I didn't have to sit down in an auditorium full of standing people reciting the Pledge of Allegiance and squeeze your hand so I didn't throw up in my purse, but I did almost barf on my boss."

Your boss is the scariest lady alive. "Oh shit, really?"

"Really." You shake your head lightly but keep it resting against your hand. "Edward, it was so bad. I started to sweat and then my mouth started watering…..you know like when you're two seconds out from losing that shot you just took and you know you've got to get to a trash can fast. Then my stomach lurched and I tasted it in my mouth. I thought it was all over, that I was seriously about to spew all over my desk and watch it spray into Miranda's perfectly coiffed hair. Lucky for me, she was so caught up in listening to herself talk that she didn't even notice my misery and I was able to swallow it down with a sip of Coke to get the taste out of my mouth and avert disaster."

"I even managed to get her out of my office by wiping my nose…it's like the universal sign of the plague for germaphobes like her.

I'm not really listening by the time you finish. I'm still stuck on your second to last comment. It's the in I've been looking for.

"Sounds like it was a close call. " I clear my throat. "So how many did you have today?

"How many what?"

I can't tell if you're genuinely confused or not, but either way I'm not letting up. I'm so close to winning, I can almost taste the victory.

"Come on, Bell. How many cokes. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about."

You sniff defiantly. "One."

"One. You had one. I don't think I believe you. Try again."

"I don't care if you believe me or not. I had one Coke, Edward."

I raise my eyebrows at you.

"Oh my God, I had one. One, okay. And then Rose asked me to split another with her, so like the gracious and caring co-worker that I am, I did it. Are you satisfied?"

"So what you're telling me is that you cheated."

We make little bets with each other all the time. Your ideas are usually ridiculous. Mine are usually in the name of helping you be just a tad healthier or more hydrated, which was the object of this challenge.

"Cheated? Oh come on, I did not cheat."

"Um, sure you did. Our agreement was that for the week- you would only have one Coke a day and in turn, I would post at least one daily selfie on the social media site of my choosing. As embarrassing as it was, I fulfilled my part. You didn't."

"Jesus Christ, give me a break. I was hungover all day- which was totally your fault, I almost threw up on my boss, and I have a broken heart. You can't expect a brokenhearted, hungover person to stick to some dumbass one Coke a day rule. That's, that's…its inhumane is what it is."

I may have….participated in getting you drunk off your ass last night, but still. "Fair is fair."

You mumble under your breath but don't protest anymore.

"So what's it going to be? My cousin's dry wedding in Sequim next month or my step-granddad's birthday party this weekend?"

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