Chapter 6 - Overthinking 101

I STOOD IN THE large space between the backdoor leading to the backyard and the entrance of the living room. Tucking the not-really-a-fortune-cookie message into my pant's pocket for later, I rolled up my sleeves, ready to transform the space in front of me.

Aunt Cheryl followed soon after, but not before setting up a pitcher of cool strawberry lemonade and some cups on the table nearby, in case we needed a refresher.

And garden away we did, bringing life to a previously empty space. Together, we carefully potted small basil plants and then hung a long trailing flower plant from hooks we attached to the walls. We arranged the plant pots neatly, in a row on the ground and then aesthetically on the tables. We watered them as well while Aunt Cheryl caught me up on the latest gossip (which happened to be about two of her elder friends getting closer after bonding over bunion surgery; yeah, I know).

Our indoor garden was all set up, and we stood back to admire it as we sipped on our cool strawberry lemonade. "Alright, Cherry," I said, finishing my drink and letting my aunt take the empty cup, "I'll be upstairs if you need me."

"And I'll be in the kitchen if you need me, 'kay?" she asked. She gave me knowing look. "If you want to go out just ask me, alright? I'll give you the keys, or I can drive you there if you want me to. I just don't want you wallowing up inside the house, Cora. It's not good for you, and your mom will have my head, thinking I've held you captive here."

I shrugged playfully. "What can I say? My biology textbooks are calling my name."

Aunt Cheryl rolled her eyes. "Those mitochondria thingies can wait."

"But the protein synthesis and thermoregulation can't," I called over my shoulder, hiding a grin as I walked to the staircase.

"Protein synthesis," she mimicked, and I laughed.

Once on the stairs, however, I quickly pulled out the little fortune cookie message paper.

Examining the paper yet again, I slowly trekked up the stairs, finally ending up at my room. I opened the already ajar door, walking to the bed, and fell back on it. I held up the paper so that the natural afternoon light from the window hit it, making the paper glow slightly blue.

An adventure awaits you just beyond your comfort zone.

What type of adventure? Would it turn me into a new, better, more fierce person, or would it make me realize that I should perhaps just stick to the books and online word games and choking on air?

I was pondering this deeply, making my brain hurt as I wondered if this was some sort of message from the universe to take action and change myself immediately, when suddenly—

"Whoa. Can I...help you?"

At first I thought it was the universe's voice resounding in my head, responding to my thoughts, so I started to hold my breath, waiting for it to continue. But then the familiarity of the voice made me startle, and I shot straight up into a sitting position, scrambling to get a hold onto the shiny grey bed spread.

Wait, grey? My bed spread was pink. I looked around and noticed the fact that this was very much not my room.

And of course, to my absolute horror, I saw none other the one and only Finn Ryder leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed, watching amusedly like there was Peppa Pig playing on TV or something.

"No," I gasped, "I don't need help." I was blabbering. "That is, we don't— I'm sorry. I swear, I thought this was my room. I really didn't mean to, like, jump into your bed like it was mine. I promise I wasn't, like rolling around in it—"

My eyes were wide as my mouth's motor wouldn't stop, but Finn just held up a hand, the corner of his mouth quirked in an entertained grin.  "It's okay, Miss Almond. It's not a big deal."

"You really don't mind?" I asked, slightly worried, because I knew some people had a thing about other people touching their things (of course, Finn didn't seem to be the type, but you could never be too sure).

"I don't mind, at all."

I was sure there was some sort of tease behind those words, if his slight smirk and slightly more mischievous gaze were any indication, and I was about to open my mouth to ask just exactly what he meant.

But of course his eyes zeroed in and landed on the small slip of paper in my hands, and I realized he probably already saw me holding it up when he walked in.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

I crumpled the paper in my hand like it was nothing, and said just that. "It's n-nothing," I tried to say casually, beaming at him for extra measure.

He wasn't buying it.

Finn gave me a look. He was still in the doorway, forearm now on the doorjamb, and I was still perched on his bed, and I wondered if I should move and just get on with my day, but it seemed Finn wasn't done with me, so I sat there, staring back at him.

"Is it a fortune cookie message about your future lover?"

"What?" I could feel my ears heating up.  "I- No!"

"Tell me," he continued, faux-serious, "the message says your future beau must like the colour aquamarine and is so into gardening." His smile got wider, eyes twinkling. "And you'll meet on the second day of the second week of the next month on the lunar calendar?"

I squinted at him. "That is extremely specific, and- and I'll have you understand, it's not like a requirement, you know. That he has to, um, like gardening. I mean, I would hope so, but..."

Finn's eyes widened comically. "Is this you admitting you have gardening fantasies or something?"

"What?! No!"

"No shame in it, Carol."

"Wha- It's Cora. C-O-R-A. Cora, okay?" I huffed, offended. "And no, this has absolutely nothing to do with my, um, future lover, thank you very much."

At this, Finn full on grinned at my no doubt riled up face, and I saw he was thoroughly enjoying this. He took his arm off the door jamb and walked toward the bed from the doorframe. I immediately got off the bed, standing some feet away, watching as he slowly, casually, leisurely replaced my position on it.

"Nothing to do with Mr Future Lover Boy, got it. If you say so, Cora. But it must be something that means a lot to you?" Finn leaned back on his elbows on the bed as he said this, head tilted as he looked up at me curiously.

"Well..."

And for one moment, he looked genuinely, truly, completely interested and invested, as if he was really pondering and thinking about what could be making me so secretive about the note. And in that one moment, I really felt like telling him.

His eyebrows rose, high above the eyes that were watching me attentively. I shoved my thoughts away and just gave him a polite smile in response. "It's tempting," I told him, starting to walk out of the room, "to tell you, Not-Neel—" he gave me a crooked smile at this as his eyes sparkled, amused— "but I won't give in." I stopped a moment to squint at him before I turned around and kept walking ahead. "Like, basic-trust-one-oh-one, you keep messing up my name. What's up with that?"

I was then out the door, in the hallway, when I heard him call out to me, "Sorry, Carol!"

And I knew he was teasing because I could hear the smile in his voice, but I still huffed back, rolling my eyes, "It's Cora! "

⬫⬫◍⬫⬫

Two days later, I was studying in my room when Aunt Cheryl called me down for lunch.

And that was what I had been doing for most of the past days: studying. Aunt Cheryl often came up to check in on me, bringing up different snacks and juices to keep me charged, but every single time, she left looking slightly concerned. But there was nothing to be concerned about, of course. I was literally sitting inside and studying; that is the opposite of concerning. Right?

But then after lunch (during which the conversation topics were wild again, but I was learning to adjust to them), I was going up to my room when I heard what seemed like Aunt Cheryl's voice, along with Jolene's and Finn's. Renzo had hurried immediately after lunch to his very urgent chess club meeting.

I was about to go down and join the three, wondering what they very talking about, when I heard my name in the conversation and I froze.

I could only catch bits and pieces from where I was standing, and I really didn't want to eavesdrop. But at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to move just yet.

"Holed up...worrying...all the time...bring...bonfire...with you?"

I suddenly remembered the bonfire that Finn had mentioned him and the other two would be going to that evening, by the beach. They had then invited me to join them, but I politely declined, and they didn't consider it much. We kept talking cheerily, but clearly Aunt Cheryl had taken note of my answer.

And now it seemed she wanted them to convince me to go with them.

And I wasn't all that mad at her, to be honest. But her concern was concerning me, and the embarrassment that flooded me was almost painful. So was the thought of the bonfire, if my assumptions were correct and there really was one I would have to attend, because I knew I would have nothing to do there.

And so I sat at the desk in my room afterward, my notes spread in front of me as I wondered about bonfires and beaches instead of biochemistry and molecular genetics.