How To Be The Best Third Wheel

Original Edition - Tip 34: Do Couples Costumes with your Best Friend

What do you do when your crush-enemy confesses that they like you and you just responded with, "I like pomegranates too."?

Well, my first instinct is to run. But...I'm too lazy to move so I stand there like a brainless corpse. I look at my feet, then back up at him. To my surprise, he's not looking at me like I'm some sort of alien. Instead he's shaking his head and smiling.

"The bus isn't coming for a while. I'll bring you home. If you want, we could stop by the grocery store to get you some pomegranates." he offers.

"Uhh...um...uh...you...um...like...me?" I manage to blurt out.

"Um...I mean, that's kind of what I just said." he says, laughing a bit. "By any chance, is there a way, that you might, I don't know, like, maybe, feel the same way?"

I face the ground as I mutter, "Umkindayeah."

"What did you say?" he asks in confusion.

"Kindayeah."

"What?"

"Yes! For goodness sake, I like you!" I yell in his face, drawing the attention of the people passing by. Lowering my voice I tell him, "Yeah. Maybe I kinda like you too."

That one statement alone is enough to get him to grin like an idiot. That bright smile, showing off his dimples, is something I haven't seen in a long time. I missed it so much.

I point a finger at him. "Now don't start getting cocky about it! I only like you a little bit."

"You like me a lot, don't you sweetheart?" He winks at me and before I get the chance to say my comeback, he grabs my hand and intertwines his fingers with mine. "The car's over there."

I look down at our hands, then up at him, then back down at our hands. The fact that he's holding my hand, gives me some sort of anxiety or nervousness. Call me old fashioned, but the little things are really big things to me. Holding hands is a big deal to me.

I'm a loser, I know.

"Is it okay?" he poses, eyeballing our hands.

"It's okay." I reply, the ends my lips seeming to tug upwards. He smiles back at me, give my hand a reassuring squeeze, and goes in the direction of his car.

I a few minutes, we reach the spot where he's parked. He opens the passenger seat and I step in. Who knew he could be a gentleman? Okay, maybe I knew that for a while. He closes the door and walks to the other side to get in.

He steps into the driver's seat and inserts the key, starting the car. He turns and stares at me. It takes me a second or two to find out what he's staring at. Why is he looking at my hair?

"Your hair is wet." he states.

"Yeah...that's kind of what happens when you're out in the pouring rain." I retort.

"You might get sick." he adds in a worried tone. "If you do, it'll be my fault."

I let out a small laugh, finding his new-found extreme caring way to be amusing. Before, he would go back and forth between insults and caring for me. Now, gosh, he's turned into a total marshmallow.

"I'm not getting sick, Bryer. Don't worry about me." I reassure him.

"I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about me.  I mean, I don't want my conscience making me feel guilty whenever I hear you sneeze every five seconds." he scoffs. Did I say that he was acting all soft now? Yeah, I take it back. Still, I know that underneath that tough guy act he likes to pull, the guy's a total sweetheart.

"Really?" I jab him in the side, and when he flinches I let out a giggle. "Anyways, if you could just take me home now, that'd be great."

"Of course." He backs out of the parking space and drives straight out of the parking lot in the direction of home. The rain has stopped, and the sun and peeking out from the grey clouds once again. There are minutes of awkward silence, making me feel like I'd rather get struck by a truck on the freeway than stay here, feeling my palms getting sweatier by the second.