EXCEPTional

Ch. 11 (Chance)

*Chance*

"Did you expect me to shower you in luxurious and expensive foods and wines?" I asked teasingly, watching her from the corner of my eye.

Her lips pressed into a line. "Well, kinda," she admitted, "I expected you to flash your wealth by taking me to lavish five-star restaurants."

"Now, Bridget, money isn't everything," I scolded playfully, and I could tell she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Besides, I know that rubbing wealth in your face would, not convince you, but rather turn you away from me."

She glanced at me, a hint of surprise in her eyes. Apparently, she hadn't expected me to remember her that well. I hadn't expected to either, but being in her company made the memories flood in, clear and pristine.

Her eyes fell away as she pointed out, "But buying me cheap food from a sidewalk vendor isn't going to convince me either."

My gaze became soft as I continued to study her. It wasn't that it was particularly surreal to be with her again in Brimwell, five years after high school with everything changed, but I hadn't expected it. I was reeling from the fact that I had taken a vacation from modeling and that I had come here. My mind had yet to wrap around the truth that Bridget was still here.

"Shouldn't the fact that I, Chance Olson, am taking you, Bridget Young, on a casual stroll in the park-when I could be posing for a popular magazine off in Nepal or some other exotic place-willing to buy cheap hot dogs for you, convince you of my true reason for coming here?" I asked, voice gentle but tone playful.

She completely disregarded the thick of my statement and inquired curiously, "Have you been to Nepal for a photo shoot?"

"A fashion show," I clarified, "but that wasn't the point I was making." I was trying to steer her back to the direction I wanted this conversation to go in.

"Do you ever feel weird admitting to people that you go to fashion shows?"

Well, she obviously wasn't willing to travel in that direction, so I humored her and answered, "No, because I'm not there for the fashion. I'm there to wear clothes and walk."

Her eyebrow perked. "And you never pay attention to the fashion?" Her tone was skeptical.

I sighed quietly. "Are you asking if I know about designers like Louis Vuitton?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Even I recognize that name. I mean, do you know brands and that kind of stuff?"

My hands shoved into my pockets. I grudgingly admitted, "Yeah, I do. But day after day of seeing these things tends to lodge the names and trademarks into my head."

She paused a moment in thought. "That makes sense," she allowed with a shrug. "I mean, stare at flashcards long enough and things'll start to seep in."

Finally, we approached the hot dog cart and I flashed the seller a broad smile. I requested in flourish, "Garçon, two of your finest, please."

Bridget chuckled beside me, rolling her eyes, and I looked at her, smile tilting.

The vendor blinked at me in surprise. This must have been the last thing he was expecting, that I would be buying hot dogs from his cart. He cleared his throat and asked hesitantly, "Um, sorry . . . Excuse me?"

Bridget smirked, saying to me, "He must be star-struck. Why don't you let a regular person order?" She pushed me lightly aside and turned to the seller. "Forgive my friend there. He's big-headed, which can be strange to see such a big head on a tiny body. Sort of like a cartoon, am I right? Anyway, we'd like two hot dogs. Ketchup and mustard." She looked to me. "And relish?"