Noah: All right, I just checked. Exactly seven.
Emma: Hmm. You sure you counted them all? One isn’t hiding out in your other blazer pocket or something?
Noah: No. Why do you ask?
Emma: No reason.
Noah: Emma…
Emma: Teresa and I might’ve made a little wager.
Noah: And?
Emma: I lost.
Noah: Truly shocking.
Emma: Now I have to stuff as many giant marshmallows into my mouth as I can until I choke.
Noah: That doesn’t sound safe.
Emma: It used to be my favorite game, but I’ve matured a lot since then.
Emma: … Except maybe not, because I’m still really looking forward to it.
Noah: I’d like to have a word with Teresa. Was this her idea?
Emma: Nah, I got to choose my own demise. She knows I have a habit of sabotaging myself. Maybe this wasn’t as good of an idea as I thought.
Noah: It’s not too late to back out.
Emma: I am a woman of my word, Noah. Now please excuse me while I go stuff my face with copious amounts of stale sugar balls.
Noah: Enjoy yourself.
Emma: Oh, I plan to.
Twenty Minutes Later
Noah: Still alive?
Emma: My tummy hurts.
Noah: Should I even ask how many you managed to fit?
Emma: Fourteen. You’d have been proud of me.
Noah: I’m thrilled. Ice cream to celebrate?
Emma: Maybe if I could move.
Noah: I’ll pick it up. Mint chocolate chip?
Emma: Yes, please. How did you know sugar is what I need right now?
Noah: I’m learning.
Emma: Maybe get some Red Vines, too?
