Page 29 of The One Where They Fall in Love

“No one likes bugs. Except the people who work in the bug section of the zoo, I suppose,” she says, pursing her lips. I give her a dubious look. “But you’re giving off a horse being afraid of a mouse vibes.”

I grimace. I cringe and bring my shoulders up to my ears as another fly buzzes by me. Or maybe it’s the same one, and it has a serious vendetta. “I’ll rephrase, I fuckinghatebugs.”

Elle grins. And my frown deepens. I know that face.

*

“You’re a very strange person,” I say to her, as she fills a bowl with bug-shaped candy.

“I don’t find that to be an insult,” she replies, taking one of the gummy worms and pretending to slither it around my counter.

“It wasn’t meant as an insult. It was a factual statement. But whatever you have to tell yourself.”

A month ago, I would have never expected to spend an afternoon eating dim sum with Elle Thompson, the nosiest and pushiest neighbor I’ve ever had. I would have also never predicted that on the same day I’d be sitting in my apartment with the same pushy neighbor, now betting me to eat a bowl of candy.

“Not just candy,” she’d said as she emerged from the convenience store that she made Thor and me wait outside of. “Bug candy.”

“So your torment of me has reached new heights then?” I said, as she showed me the bag of cockroaches, spiders, worms, and who knows what else.

“Precisely,” she said with a wink. And like a fool, I followed her back to our building and let her into my apartment.

“Explain to me why I should do this again,” I mutter, plopping down on one of my bar stools after putting Thor’s dinner bowl down.

“Because,Oliver—” I try not to focus on the skip in my chest when she says my name. “I have a bet for you. I bet that you cannot eat a bowl of insects. Creepy, crawly,crunchyinsects,” she says, pressing her palms into the counter and bouncing on the balls of her feet, her expression one of pure joy.

“Crunchy?”

“Yeah, the cockroaches have lifelike exoskeletons made out of processed sugar of some sort.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you have to attend a yoga class at my studio.” She raises her brows as if to say,“What do you think?”as the smile on her face turns into a devilish smirk. I break off our staring match to look down at the bowl of bugs in front of me. Part of me is intrigued to see Elle teach a yoga class in a pair of those leggings. But the other part of me knows I have absolutely zero flexibility. And I’m sure Elle knows that too, just by looking at me. She probably realizes what a fool I would look like in front of a room full of yoga people.Yogi people?

“Yoga?” I repeat, like the answer is somehow going to change.

“Yoga,” she says confidently, raising her brows. “Have you done it before?”

“I’ve seen it. It’s just like stretching.”

Elle lets out an audible, “Ugh,” before leaning forward against the counter. “Please try the cockroach.Please,” she says through gritted teeth. Her voice is stern, like it’s taking everything in her not to smack me.

“Again, I have to ask:whywould I do this?”

“Because it would be good for your anxiety.”

I scrunch my face at her.Where did she come up with that?

“I don’t have anxiety. I have OCD. It’s different,” I say plainly.

I can’t believe I just said that out loud to her. I never talk so openly about my OCD, not even with my family. I mean, everyone knows about it, but it’s kind of just swept under the rug, ignored.

Elle looks at me from beneath her brows, her eyes calling me out on my bullshit.

“Why do you think I have anxiety?” I say, and she rolls her eyes, taking a deep breath.Those fucking eyes.

“Fine, let’s say youdon’thave anxiety,” she says, trying to placate me. “Maybe I just want to torture you in public. Plus, it’s another New York City experience. It’s only a beginner class. Will you do it?” I don’t miss the fact that she didn’t answer my question.

“Do you know that you don’t have to spend every minute of every day trying to think of ways to help people?”I mirror her previous knowing look.