I'm sitting on my bed, browsing through my emails, when my phone rings. I immediately jump out of bed to retrieve it from the top of my drawer, thinking it must be Santana.

I frown slightly when I find out it's only my editor.

"Hello?"

"Quinn?"

"Yeah, Alex?"

"God, I loved your novel. It's perfect! I didn't even get to edit a single thing! I feel so useless when I edit your work." He laughs.

"Thank you. And no, I'm not available tonight nor tomorrow."

Yes, I can read his mind.

"Ouch. Guess you've read my mind, huh?" Told you. "Well, how about the day after tomorrow? We can talk about your novel while—"

"No, sorry, 'Lex. I'm going to be very busy this weekend."

"Got a date with Dreadlocks?"

"That's Joe to you. And we already broke up, anyway."

"You what?"

"You heard me. 'Twas last Monday. And no, I'm not sharing the information to get your hopes up."

I hear him sigh. "Why are you going to be busy then?"

"I'm meeting with a friend."

"A friend, huh?" I can almost hear him smirk.

"Yes. A female friend, Alex. Her name's Santana. She's coming from L.A."

"Oh! Didn't know you were into girls, Q. So, you're going to live with her?"

"Yes, but it's only—"

"Ooooh. Interesting. Is she hot?"

"Alex, you're really—"

"Is she? Come on, Q. Just answer me and maybe I'll stop."

"Argh."

"Q."

"Fine. No, I won't say hot because you'll tell me I'm gay, I'd just say she's attractive. That's only judging from the number of boys who I've seen drool over—"

"I get it. Is she blonde?"

"No. Brunette. She's a Latina and—"

"And you've asked her to live with her?"

"No, I let her stay over for—"

"Oh, Q. You're so dead."

"What the fuck, Alex. What I was saying was-"

"Kidding, Q. Don't worry. Though really sound guilty, I'll just pretend I believe you."

"Come on, Alex. As if you don't think I'm straighter than a ruler."

"Actually… It'd be pretty hot if you weren't that straight."

"Alex," I warn him.

"Kidding, Q. What I'm saying is I don't think you are."

"Think I'm what?"

"That straight."

"Seriously? Give me one good reason—"

"How many boyfriends have you had?"

"What?"

"Just answer my questions, Q."

"Uhh… Four? Four-ish."

"And… How many men have you slept with?"

"Alex, this is really—"

"How many?"

"Argh. Two."

"See, Q? You're incredibly hot and approaching 26, and you could still count all the men you've been with using just one hand!"

"So? Does that prove anything?"

"I'm telling you, Q. There's a little gay part living in you."

"Yeah, sure, Alex. Very, very likely. Way possible."

"Come on. I'll bet you 500 dollars. And 500 more dollars you'll be attracted to this Santana girl."

I scoff. "It was nice talking to you, Alex. Good bye."

"Hey, I was just ki—"

I toss my phone into my bed as I plop down beside it.

My phone vibrates, and now I'm quite sure it's not from Santana. But I open the text anyway.

I was kidding, Q. Sorry. :(

I look at the ceiling for a while, until I came up with the greatest response I could manage.

Oh, no, you weren't. The bet is so on, Alex. Get your five hundred bucks ready. :P

I throw my phone next to me when it rings again. I didn't even bother looking at the caller ID.

"Look, Alex. I get it, okay? You were kidding. I alread—"

"Uhh, Q?"

"Oh, Santana! It's you! I-I thought—"

"So, Alex, huh? Didn't think you would move on this fast, Quinn."

"No, no. Alex is my editor."

"Mmm-hmm. Anyway, you don't have to fetch me from the airport, Q. Rachel insisted that she fetch me and tour me for a while since I turned down her offer of letting me stay at her place, so… I'll see you tomorrow night, I guess."

"Uhh.. Okay. Yeah. See you tomorrow."

"Thanks again, Q. Miss you."

"Same. Take care, S."

10 months later

I walk in the café and brace myself for whatever's about to happen. I get this feeling that inviting Alex to lunch is not a very good idea.

"Hey, Quinnie!" Alex wraps me in a hug. "I knew it. Sooner or later, you will have to give in." He winks.

I roll my eyes. Pathetic.

"Keep it in your pants, Alex." I pull back and motion for him to sit with me.

"So, Quinnie, what type of miracle hit you that made you invite me for a date?" He wriggles his eyebrows.

Men.

"Get over yourself, Smith. Fine. I'll admit it. You are cute- no, hot, charming, smart, rich- in short, 'want-able'. But you have no chance, okay?"

"Oh, sure, Q. Why'd you invite me here, then? I couldn't think of any other—"

I interrupt him by slamming my hand really loud on the table, which caused a couple of head turns from the nearby customers

"Okay, Q, I'm really—" He stops and his eyes widen when he sees what was under the hand I've just slammed on the table. He looks confused when I remove my hand, leaving a 500-dollar bill in full view.

"Why are you—oh. Oh!" He smiles triumphantly and folds his arms.

"Yes, yes. The deal. You won. Happy now?" I fold my arms and huff.

"I knew there has to be something wrong with you to not want me." He smirks.

"Oh, please, Alex—"

"Just kidding, Q." He sticks out his tongue. "So, who's the lucky girl?"

I sigh, reach down my pocket, and place another 500-dollar bill down the table.

And… there's more to this conversation. Haha. Sorry to leave this hanging. Don't worry, though. I'll update soon, you lovely people. :)