The Golden Couple

Chap. 3

"What would you like for dinner?" mom asked.

"Not now," I answered, waving her off without looking up from my book.

"What book is it today?"

"Later," I persisted, as I turned the page of The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch.

"Okay," she agreed, laughing. "I'm making Sheperd's Pie for dinner."

"Fine."

She laughed her way out of my room, closing the door behind her.

This book was enthralling, and I didn't want to put it down. We'd originally been assigned to read the first two chapters for homework, but at this rate I was going to finish the entire thing.

What seemed like barely a minute, but multiple pages, later, my phone went off. Bryce's ringtone.

I let out a sigh, debating whether to ignore him or to actually answer it.

But seeing as though he was supposed to be at baseball practice right now, my curiosity got the best of me, and I put my book down and crossed my room to retrieve my phone.

"Aren't you supposed to be at practice?" I asked, taking a seat on the edge of my bed.

"I'm in the bathroom," he informed me.

"Okay, so what's so important that you had to take a fake bathroom break to call me?"

"They named starting pitcher today."

For a moment I could practically feel my heart stop beating. Was he calling me because they didn't name him?

"It's me!"

I couldn't help but laugh, rolling my eyes. "You're such a goof Bryce Harrison."

"You're coming to the game Friday right?"

"I wouldn't miss it," I promised.

"Okay, I have to end my fake bathroom break. But I'll see you at dinner."

"It's Sheperd's Pie."

I could hear him fake-gagging.

"Shut up and get back to practice."

He laughed. "I love you Sophie Allen."

"And for some reason I happen to love you too."

And with that I hung up, my drive to read gone.

With a sigh, I headed downstairs to see if my mom needed help with dinner.

"Is that my daughter?" mom asked, smirking at me.

"Do you need help?"

"Don't you have a book to press your nose into?"

"Okay," I laughed, hopping up on the counter. "I'm sorry."

"Of course I don't care," she said, swatting me with a dish towel. "I'd much rather have a daughter that reads too much than a daughter that drinks too much."

As if I haven't heard that one before.

"Got it mom," I promised.

"But since you offered, you could make the biscuits."

My mom doesn't buy anything pre-packaged that she can make by hand.

"Okay," I agreed, heading to the corner of the kitchen where she'd laid out the ingredients for her biscuits.

"Do you want to check the package?" she called out, holding up the package of Ground Rounds.

"No, I can see it from here," I said, spotting the Vegetarian stamp on the side.