“What do you order there?” she asked playfully, like this was some sort of challenge he had to pass.
Gael and Anika used to have drawn-out philosophical battles about what was better at Cosmic, nachos or burritos. The memory left with him with a visceral emptiness. And it wasn’t just the hunger in his stomach.
“Nachos,” he said. “And, yes, I realize that everyone else prefers the burritos.”
“Well, it’s your lucky day,” she said. “Because I don’t. You want some?”
Gael hesitated. He knew he should probably just go home, change his clothes, and take an Advil for the ache in his leg. He should apologize to his parents and be honest about what was going on with him. Hell, maybe he should even join his mom at a yoga class and, even crazier, tell his dad that a joint therapy session wasn’t that horrible of an idea. Maybe they could even address his dad’s secretive behavior.
But the thing was, he knew he wouldn’t. He would watch more movies and eat more Snickers and take more unnecessary naps and continue to feel totally and completely shitty.
Plus, he thought, didn’t he deserve this?
A nice, cute (if he was being totally honest) girl was offering him his favorite meal on his birthday. Sure, he didn’t even know her name yet, but why not say yes?
“I really shouldn’t take your food,” he said, offering her an easy out if she wanted one.
“Please.” Her face broke into a smile. “Cosmic is pretty paltry payment for being run down. And nachos are easy to share.”
The girl stood up, lifted the bike, and retrieved the plastic bag underneath. She wheeled the bike out of the street, leaned it against the curb, and sat back down next to him.
“I’m Cara, by the way.” She reached out her hand.
“I’m Gael.” He shook hers in turn. “Do you live around here?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Close by.”
Gael stared at her. “I haven’t seen you in school.”
Cara smiled again. “I’m actually a freshman at UNC.”
A nice, cute, college freshman who liked Cosmic. And unlike Sammy, a college freshman who didn’t seem to be filled to the brim with big, pretentious ideas. Gael thought it was almost too good to be true.
“Anyway,” Cara said. “Shall we see how our nachos held up in the crash?”
Our. He’d given up on ever being part of an “our” again.
Cara undid the bag’s knot and pulled out a Styrofoam container dripping with black bean juice and watery salsa. She set it on her lap, evidently unperturbed by the idea of nachos getting on her jeans, and opened the top.
“Not horrible,” she said, tilting the box toward him as a car full of frat guys passed by. “You approve?”
The box was a tornado of sour cream, grilled chicken, white cheese, and beans, like the chips had decided to have a rager. “Looks good to me,” he said.
“Just you wait,” Cara said. She shuffled in the plastic bag and pulled out a dirty, half-used bottle of Valentina’s.
“You stole the hot sauce?” Gael couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing.
“It was mostly empty,” she said with a pout. “And I ran out the other night, and I keep forgetting to buy it . . . Do you mind?” She held the bottle over the nachos, midshake.
“No,” Gael said. “Go ahead.”
She doused everything in hot sauce, took a chip, and popped it in her mouth. “I love hot sauce,” she said.
He nodded at her shirt. “I never would have guessed.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty obvious. Hot sauce is like my own personal rebellion. Both my parents hate everything spicy, whereas I’m all, can it be hot enough to make my tongue hurt, please?”
Gael laughed. “My dad thinks jalapeno peppers from the jar are like, explosion-level spicy. My mom’s on my side, at least.” They’d never have that argument again over dinner, he thought briefly, then pushed the thought away.
Cara popped another chip in her mouth.
“You probably think it’s pathetic that hot sauce is my biggest rebellion, huh?”
Gael’s mind instantly flashed to Anika’s recent rebellion. He shook his head vehemently. He didn’t need a girl who broke all the rules. He needed a girl who thought indulging in ultra-spicy hot sauce was breaking the rules. “I don’t think it’s pathetic at all. Half the time, people just want to be assholes, so they call it rebellion. You know what I mean?”
She closed her mouth, swallowed, held his eyes. “I know exactly what you mean.”
(I did, too. But just because Anika was wrong for him did not mean that this girl was right. Of course, convincing Gael of that would be another challenge altogether, that much was already clear.)