Chapter 5: The Second Choice

Honestly, I didn’t expect her to reply.

After all, my confession was pretty sudden.

We’d only met once, and besides being attracted to her looks, we didn’t really know each other.

She didn’t know me, and I didn’t know her.

Even if she didn’t respond, it wouldn’t have surprised me.

But a week later, she added me on Facebook.

[Hey, it’s Rachel. Do you remember me?]

I was overjoyed.

The notification popped up during a late-night study session, and I nearly spilled my Mountain Dew in excitement.

[Of course I remember. What’s up?]

[What you said last time... does it still count?]

[Yes.]

[Maybe... we can give it a try.]

One meeting in person.

One chat online.

Just like that, we stumbled into a relationship.

The day after we became official, she asked me out to dinner.

I was a little surprised.

Rachel always seemed so well-behaved and proper—I didn’t expect her to be so forward in romance.

I couldn’t help but want to know more about who she really was.

I wanted to know her, to love her.

I even bought a cake from the grocery store, thinking I couldn’t let my new girlfriend be the only one making the effort.

The bakery aisle smelled like frosting and fresh bread, and I spent way too long agonizing over chocolate or red velvet, finally settling on something with sprinkles—cheerful, unassuming.

On the way, I worried: Would she like cake? Would she dislike the flavor I picked? How would she react when she saw it?

I started to get nervous.

I really wanted to see her soon.

I followed her location and found Rachel, but just as I was about to tell her I brought cake, I saw Caleb standing nearby.

The sight of them together, even with Caleb's arm loosely slung around his new girlfriend, made something twist inside me.

“I also invited Caleb and his girlfriend. You don’t mind, right?” Rachel leaned over and asked.

I shook my head, disappointed. “Oh, it’s fine...”

At the table, Caleb and his new girlfriend chatted happily, but Rachel seemed uninterested.

The restaurant was busy—a cozy Italian place with checkered tablecloths and the scent of garlic bread everywhere. I picked at my lasagna, trying not to watch Rachel watching Caleb.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like the food?” I asked gently.

She sneaked a look at Caleb, who was smiling and tucking his girlfriend’s hair behind her ear. Rachel pouted and poked her mac and cheese with her fork. “No...”