“Five, four, three—”
“DONE!” I leapt up out of my seat and opened my mouth for everyone to see, and then I threw my arms in the air and jumped up and down on my feet as fast as I could. The jumping was more to distract me from the feeling of utter agony exploding in my mouth.
“Oh shit! Oh crap, oh . . .” I threw myself back at the table and grabbed the glass of milk, gulping it down so hard and fast that it went everywhere. I could feel it on my chin, running onto my shirt, but I didn’t care. I plunged my tongue into the milk and looked up at Noah over the rim of the glass.
“I did it!” I said, the words bubbling into the milk. This time the worry on Noah’s face was gone. Instead, he was laughing, and it was utterly contagious. Because soon I was laughing too, and everyone else.
Who knew eating a chili and half burning your tongue off could be so damn fun!
And then I could feel something big and uncomfortable climbing up my throat. I tried to stop it, tried to swallow it down, but there was no fighting it.
“Buuuurpp!” The loud sound came out of my mouth, as well as the red-tinged spit that rolled down my chin and dropped onto my shirt. Sonotdignified.
The burp caused everyone to stop laughing and look at me with concern. But I shot everyone a thumbs-up and then I couldn’t help myself. I laughed again.
CHAPTER 16
We left the Mexican restaurant feeling stuffed and in a mood that can only be described as jovial. We walked towards his car together happily. Swaying from side to side as if guided by some invisible beat.
“So, we know more things about me now,” I said, as we reached the car. “That I like spicy food.”
“I can’t believe you asked them to put more habanero on your taco.”
“Once you get over the initial shock of it, it’s really very nice.”
“Hey, what name did you sign on the indemnity form? Do you remember your name?” he asked.
“No. I don’t. I just wrote down the first name I could think of.”
“What was that?”
“Becca,” I said.
“Becca? Where did you get that from? You think it’s your name?”
“No. I got it from this book in the hospital. A writer, Becca Thorne.”
“The Heart is Just a Muscle,” Noah piped up. “That’s her book.”
“Yes, how do you know?”
“Everyone knows. It was the bestselling book last year, or the year before, I can’t remember. Everyone was talking about it, though.”
“Oh,” I said, suddenly wondering if I’d also read her book, since everyone else had.
“Is it a good book?” I asked.
“I think so. I haven’t read it, to be honest. My sister lent me her copy. I’m supposed to read it during this break.”
We climbed into the car, and it was already four in the afternoon.
“We have to go past the hospital now. Dr. Maluka wanted to have a look at your wound and maybe take your stitches out.”
“Oh, yes!” I reached up and touched my head. I’d almost forgotten about that. Even when I’d seen myself with the plaster on my head in the photo the restaurant had taken of me, I’d barely registered it.
“Thanks,” I said to Noah now. “I really appreciate this.”
“No problem. Thanks for the lunch!”
