Zico nervously stared at the yellow tongue depressor, a black sharpie in his hand. Before he could lose his nerve, he quickly uncapped the pen and wrote down the four worded question. He stuffed it in the jar with the rest of the pastel colored wooden sticks and walked into the living room.

"What took you so long?" you asked as you sat crossed legged in the middle of floor.

"Sorry, I got sidetracked," he shrugged and placed the jar in between the two of you.

"What's that?" you asked as you popped a chip in your mouth.

"Oh, I saw it online and thought it might be fun," Zico said, "They all have questions on them. It's kind of like a 20 questions kind of thing."

You nodded to your friend, "But why do we need to do this? We've been friends for years."

"I don't know, maybe we'll learn some new things about each other," he said, eyeing the yellow stick in the middle of the jar.

"Okay," you shrugged, laying down on your stomach, "Are there any rules?"

"The only rule I read is that both people have to answer the question. But the person who asks answer second," he explained.

"Okay, I'll go first," you smiled and pulled a stick out of the jar, "What's your favorite color?" you read.

"Black," he answered.

"Well that's pretty obvious," you laughed and motioned to his black t-shirt and jeans, "Well mines in green. But a light green."

"Noted," Zico nodded and drew a stick, avoiding the yellow one in the center of the bunch, "What's your dream date?"

"Hm," you raised your eyebrows and narrowed your eyes in thought, "I know it's pretty cliché, but I guess I would say watching a meteor shower together. They don't happen very often and I think it'd be really cute."

Zico tapped the tongue depressor against his thigh as he thought about the question himself.

"For me, I think I'd want to take her out for norebang," he nodded.

You laughed and shook your head, "Why am I not surprised?"

The two of you continued this way. You went through a series of question from what your favorite movies were to a feature in the opposite gender you look for.

Through the whole thing, Zico kept his eyes on the infamous yellow wooden stick, debating whether to pick it every time it was his turn. But in the end, he would end up picking a different one every time.

Just like the object of the game, the two of you did learn things about each other that you didn't find out about during your three years of friendship. You learned that Zico actually thought girls with a lot of ear piercings were attractive and Zico learned that you wanted to be an author after college.

"Is it my turn?" you asked Zico after the two of you had an in depth debate on who was a better superhero, Iron Man or Captain America.

He nodded and watched you reach over to the jar.

His eyes widened when he saw your fingers graze over the yellow stick and pull it out of the jar.

"Oh, wow. Umm, who do you like?" you read and looked up at Zico.

And there it was, the four worded question that he wrote down and intended on asking you. But, of course, you had beaten him to it.

Zico mumbled something and you knitted your eyebrows together.

"What was that?" you asked, leaning your ear closer to him.

"You," he confessed, his voice barely audible.

"Oh," you whispered and stared down at the jar.

"Umm, it's your turn to answer," he mumbled, "I mean, you don't have to if -"

"You," you bit your bottom lip.

Zico's eyes widened and his jaw dropped in shock.

"R-Really?" he stuttered.

You nodded your head and gave him a small smile.

"You're not lying?" he asked.

"No, I'm not lying," you confirmed.

"So you're telling the truth?" he asked again.

"Oh, my gosh! Yes!" you exclaimed with al laugh.

"Huh, well that went better than I planned," he grinned to himself.

"You planned this?" you raised your eyebrows.

"Well yeah," he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, "I even had a whole speech planned out to try and convince you to like me back."

"Well, I guess you don't need it," you smiled and placed you hand over his.

"I guess not," he smiled back.