Chapter 11: The Bet *Serendipity

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Chapter 9 *Serendipity*

~Sophia

“Sydney White or Love Wrecked?” Drake asks.

“Neither,” I say.

He suggested a while ago that we should watch a movie first before I tutor him. At first, I declined but after a few persuasions, I agreed. I have to admit, he’s pretty persuasive.

So here we are in the movie room. There’s a big screen in front of me, the size of half the screen of a cinema. The walls are lined with cabinets with hundreds of DVD’s inside them. There are sofas, couches, and different shapes of tables.

I’m sitting comfortably on a velvet couch; my feet stretch out in front of me. The floor is surrounded with European carpets. They have intricate swirling designs. Just by looking at them, I know they’re expensive.

Drake is searching for a good movie in one of the cabinets.

I don’t know why I told him about my family. There are only two people besides him who knows about my past. Whenever I think and talk about it, I can’t control my emotion. Now he knows, he’ll never look at me the same way. I know it by experience. Do I regret telling him? No. I feel like something lift off of my shoulders. Believe it or not, I feel as light as the wind.

“Pie?” Drake asks, breaking me from my reverie. It's unusual hearing him call me Pie. “A Walk to Remember or The Notebook?”

I watched those movies already, and read the books. I ignore the question and ask mine instead. “How come there are a lot of DVD’s here?”

He turns around from the stack of pile in front of him and says, “Usually, his friends hang out here more than the mall.”

“His friends?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.

He rolls his eyes and says, “Our friends.”

He goes back to searching a good film worth watching. “Mean Girls or It’s a Boy Girl Thing?”

“None,” I say slyly.

He puffs out a breath. I’m thinking he’s running out of patience in me.

“Why do you keep on choosing Chick-flicks?” I ask curiously. “I thought guys can’t stand those kinds of movies.”

“Because I thought you’ll like it.”

He’s wiling to watch a movie he doesn’t like just because I might like it? “How do you know?” I ask.

“Because you’re a girl,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I didn’t know you stereotype,” I comment, “just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I like Chick-flicks.”

“Don’t you like them?”

“I like them,” I say hastily, “But that’s not the point.”

“Stereotype?” he asks, remembering what I accused him earlier. “Just because I’m a guy doesn’t mean I don’t like Chick-flicks,” he retorts.

I open my mouth, but I know he got me there. I feel like a hypocrite, chastising him about stereotyping but I forgot I sometimes do it too.

“Why don’t you choose the movie that you want?” Drake suggests, his tone gently.

“Maybe you’ll not like it.”

He shrugs and says, “I’m not picky.”

“Okay,” I murmur and walk towards the cabinet to search for a good film.

There are a lot of options to choose from. There are horrors, suspense, thriller, sci-fi, comedy, action, romance, adventure, and even cartoons.

In the end, I pick Serendipity. It’s a 2001 romantic comedy film. Its synopsis says that, “A couple reunite years after the night they first met, fell in love, and separated, convinced that one day they'd end up together.”

Its tagline seems pretty interesting. “When Love Feels Like Magic, It's called Destiny. When Destiny Has A Sense of Humor, It's Called Serendipity.” It catches my attention easily.

I turn to Drake who’s sitting on the couch I vacated. “Um, can we watch this?” I raise the DVD on my hand so that he can see it.

“Serendipity?” he asks. He stands up and walks to where I’m kneeling.

“Why? Have you watched it already?”

“Not yet,” he says, and gets the DVD from my hand. He reads the synopsis in the back. “A love story, huh?” he asks, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“If you don’t want it, I can find something else,” I say, disappointment is clearly in my voice. I really want to watch this movie. Its title is just so endearing . . . and perfect.

“Don’t bother,” says Draky, “I want to watch it too.”

“Really?” I ask hopefully, standing up. My legs are numb from sitting Indian style.

“Nope,” he says, popping the p sound.

He said he wanted to watch it too, and now he doesn’t. I can’t help but frown. “Okay,” I murmur and am about to search for another film when he laughs.

“What’s funny?”

“You.”

“What about me?” I scowl at him.

He clears his throat and tries to stop his laughter to no avail. “I was just kidding and you actually get mad!”

I smack his arm impulsively. That stops his laughter.

“What was that for?” he asks, rubbing his arm, pretending that I hurt him.

I can see that he’s fighting off a smile that’s forming on his lips.

The full blast of what I did sink in. “I . . . I . . I’m sorry,” I stutter. I don’t know why I physically hit him. The only time I smack someone is when I’m laughing too hard (which is unusual nowadays) and when I’m with my friends (now, a friend).

“It’s okay,” he says, “I didn’t even feel it.” And then he grins, showing all his perfect white teeth.

I go back to the couch and wait for him to turn on the screen. When the movie starts its opening credits, Drake turns off the lights. I feel like I’m in a cinema.

Drake sits beside me and whispers, “Do you want some snacks or popcorn?” His breath tickles my cheek.

I don’t know what my voice will be like so I just shake my head. I’m not yet hungry, maybe later.

“Okay, just tell me when you want some.”

I give him a nod.

He looks at me oddly, maybe wondering why I’m not speaking. “I was just kidding a while ago; I hope I didn’t offend you.”

I’m glad with the darkness. I can feel the blush creeping onto my cheeks. “You didn’t,” I murmur.

I can’t help but squirm on my seat. There’s something thumping loudly in my chest. I wonder if he hears it; it’s so loud, it make my ears ring. I certainly hope he doesn’t.

He looks like he wants to say something but the movie is starting already.

*****

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The song is Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift. I like this old version more than the one in the Speak Now Album.

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