Salt n' Vinegar

"Boys are the worst!" Nessa shouts from the bench, causing Kade to shudder while carrying two bags of salt and vinegar chips over.

"Woah-woah," he pats away an imaginary fire around her. "Keep it down."

"Keep it down?" She compresses like a spring before bursting at him. "You keep it down!"

"I got the snack" He offers it like an idea pitch to a tyrant.

"Salt n' Vinegar, why this now?"

"It's a thing I'm doing, trying each option at a time." He shakes the chips to urge her to take it. "Started from the top left option."

"Weird..." She snatches the bag. "You have some kinda OCD, or autism, or something?"

"Just for that, I’m on the spectrum?"

She inspects the nutrition facts of the chips. “Probably. Also, are you fine with only eating snacks during lunch? Surely this isn't all you eat today.”

He takes a seat and has a chip. “Something wrong with that?”

“In the total of things wrong with you, it’s no difference.” She places the snack down and takes out her phone because of a few vibrates.

There’s a returning anger that fills her when she reads what looks to be a group chat. Then, wielding that stored up hatred, she types out what could only be an argument with how fast her fingers move, her nails pattering on the screen so viciously that he worries it’ll crack.

A pause of anticipation brings her to silence as she awaits a reply, eyes hyper-focused like a track runner waiting for the gun shot.

At her side, he pretends to be uninterested, but inside he feels left out, a chip from time-to-time relieving his loneliness. He asks himself in his head, “Should I ask what’s up, or wait for her to bring something up? I want to talk about something so bad…”

She furiously types once again, then groans as she puts her phone down. “Can you believe it?”

“No, I don’t.” He jumps out of his nonchalance too eagerly with a voice crack.

“I didn’t finish, and that was hilarious.” She says while holding back a tiny laugh.

He clears his throat. “I was being sarcastic.”

“Yea… Anyways,” she takes a deep breath with her hands out like she’s strangling an invisible person. “Can you believe it? There are boys out there that just can’t take the hint, like, seriously dense.”

He has another chip and hums whilst chewing. “As in a hint that you don’t like ‘em?” Then he goes for his drink.

“No, as in that I like him.” She says straightforwardly, and once he heard it, he chokes on the water. “Oh my god, what did you do?”

He does an aggressive throat clearing and then whines from the discomfort. “Wrong pipe. It went down—augh—the wrong pipe!”

It’s an ugly display, one that turns him red with embarrassment, but some of that could be thanks to his coughing. He thinks it’s almost like payback for watching her struggle to smoke, but this is more of a punch in his self-esteem than a lack of skill.

“You should slow down.” She cautions with a returning superiority. “Don’t want you off the hook because you died being an idiot.”

He takes another sip, but this time to cool off and prove he can drink like a civilized person. The fact she likes someone really irks him, but he can’t grasp why. Being jealous about someone you’ve known for less than two hours is by his standards pathetic. Having a crush on girls is nothing new, but never this provoking. The last thing he’ll do is believe any of this is possible.

“You gonna try the chips?” He tries to avoid her topic.

“I'll get to it when I want to, ya weirdo,” she puts a finger to his throat to pressure him. “Now, answer my question.”

“What was it?”

“Only proving my point you boys are idiots. Were you even listening?” She pouts and he is about to speak, but she shuts him down straight away. “Nope, I already know the answer.”

“Sorry…” He shrinks, even afraid to touch his snack or drink.

She sighs and takes her chips out to open. “My nerves. My nerves. My nerves.” Her speech slowly deteriorates into a munch. “You’re lucky I’m merciful.”

“Thank you for your mercy.” He bows.

“Good. Now as I was saying.” She takes a sip from her thermos, something he didn’t expect when bringing a fourth dollar today. “I’m a cute girl, so obviously boys want to get with me.”

He only bounces back validation with nods instead of speaking, preferring not to have a clear opinion.

“So why is it that when I sit beside this boy at lunch, that he can’t see I’m hinting it’s ok to ask me out?” She throws her hands up as if she lost a game.

He draws a blank, only able to compare to his current experience with her, they’re oddly similar, so much so that it provokes a tangent of thought. "It’s lunch time, and she’s sitting next to me, so does that mean I can ask her out? I'm getting ahead of myself, and clearly it’s wrong since she’s even bringing the topic up, so as wishful as it is, I need to rule it out. Nothing about the way she carries herself around me screams desire, but what does that even look like on her face?" He focuses on imagining what her 'I'm in love with you' face looks like, only to internally panic.

“Did you short-circuit?” She tries to snap him out of the trance her question put him through. “You’re staring so much, I’d think you like me.”

The latter assumption works at pulling him out of stasis and putting on a new shade of red. "Sorry, I was trying to make sense of it."

"I know right!" She flips her hair back with a hand, all frustrations converted to conceit. "Boys just can't handle my pressure. His brain is probably fried like yours."

He buries his bewilderment by accepting that he never stood a chance, and that it was unreasonable to even think such ways before. "Yup. I'd just suggest telling him straight to his face."

"Hell no, that's way too embarrassing, and totally unlike me." She swats away his suggestion with little consideration, then succumbs to a wicked grin. "It's much more satisfying if they get on their knees and beg for my hand, but all they get is my foot to their face and a 'maybe,' but really, that means yes."

Once again she fries his brain, but he's able to piece together his thoughts faster knowing there's no eggshells he cares to step on. "That's pretty sadistic."

"A girl's got to look out for herself in these fights." She lies down on the bench like last time and continues to explain, the details feeling like insider secrets, piquing his interest. "If I show any weakness through desperation, I'm cooked. Boy's can't think I'm easy, and they definitely can't get with all this," she gestures from head to toe, "and feel like they accomplished it. I'M the one who allowed it."

He slouches to process, then tosses a chip and catches it in his mouth. "I think that's your charm, being so confident. He'll give in no time if it's you." Playing hype-man is a form of giving up.

"Hehe, nice try creep," she smiles and shifts to her side to rest her head on her hand, a convenient way to not show face, but he wasn't looking anyways, "but I like somebody else."

 Being rejected without even trying is pretty harsh, and it's this venomous bite that numbs his response. "I'm not about that stuff, so don't make strange assumptions," he sighs.

She sits up and punches him in the gut, a frown having spoiled her recent bliss. "At least squirm a little when rejected. I am pretty sadistic after-all, an emphasis on the pretty."

He collapses into the punch, a cheap shot not only for the place, but for the use of his own words. "You're right," he wheezes, then looks back at her with a pained smile. "I stood no chance, and I'm a huge creep."

"Hah?" She tilts and droops her head, angry instead of the satisfied like he thought she would be. "Well that sucked, and this sucks."

"What, want me to try again?"

"Ugh, no, forget it." She lies back down and closes her eyes.

The last blow was the rest of his patience for the moment. He needed some way to recover, that's what being there was supposed to be, but it's not comforting anymore. "Where's a place to breathe?" He thinks. To escape, he puts on his hoodie and gathers his things.

She opens an eye and notices. "Is it cold?"

"Nah, just feel like calling it for the day. Want to check in at the cafeteria." He throws up a peace sign, but is stopped by her pinching his hoodie. "Peace and hair grease, till next we—"

"Where do you think you're going?" She strikes him with a stern look.

"I just said, I'm hitting up the—"

"No-no." She tugs his hoodie a bit, a glimpse of desperation—like the time she smoked—being masked by her usual dissatisfaction. "I'm not done with you."

He tried to escape, but in the end he stays a deer in the headlights at any crumb she drops. Naive was his first impression of her, but now the tables have turned. The shame he feels to even sit back down is immeasurable.

She grins, the ability to bend wills being a very gratifying string to pull. “If you went now, I’d get bored and look for a way to smoke again. You’re the one who asked that favor, and on top of that, you owe me the hundred. Did you forget already?”

He facepalms. “No, of course not.” 

“Then stay where you are. I’m the one that says it’s over, and I got a lot more things to say.” Her mood comes back to her boldly crude self. 

“Well then,” he sits back with his arms up and behind his head to fake relaxing till it works, “what do you have to say?”

“Besides boy problems like him and talking to you,” she holds up the almost empty bag of chips. “These salt and vinegar ones are pretty good, but I’m not a huge fan of the vinegar taste.”

“We’re rating the snacks?”

“So you’re weird enough to try them in order, but not to give thoughts?” She does an invisible rip of a blunt and points at him. “You’re seriously on something right now. What’s even the point?”

“I just thought it was orderly,” he shrugs, “am I not allowed to do just that?”

“Now I’m convinced you have some OCD or whatever, that or you’re high. Are you high?” She comes in close and holds up her fingers to his eyes, a playful tone rising. “Let me see your eyes real quick!”

"Ah wait!" He closes his eyes and holds up his arms to block her, not being too forceful about it. "What are you doing? I'm not high. Stop!"

She takes him by the wrist and pries an arm away, and with her other hand, puts two fingers around his eye and tries to spread it open. The resistance is weak, but enough to back away. She persists and crawls on him, sinking him down into the bench with the intensifying attack and giggling the entire time. Once he's pinned, there's not enough he can muster, and their eyes meet.

Her excitement disappears. "Aw man, that's lame." She gets off of him and crosses her arms, while he is flustered beyond recovery, reapplying an arm to his eyes as a way to die peacefully. "I was hoping you were some hypocrite on top of being a creep, that'd be hilarious. Guess I'll take the fact you were a total wimp at stopping me. Hey, which sounds better; a wimpy creep, or a creepy wimp?"

He takes a deep breath. "You're the worst."

"I thought I was charming?" She puts a hand up to her mouth and does a deliberately arrogant and fake laugh.

"Well I take that back." He recollects himself, but immediately holds out his hands as if he can't contain what he's about to say. "You're a total beh-p-pain in the neck, you berate everything about me, and you're so full of yourself!"

She recoils and looks as if she can't recognize him. "What's your problem all of the sudden?" 

"You!" He points back with the same intensity she would use against him.

"Really?" She holds up the same haughtiness.

"Yea!"

Then her tone lowers to something more resentful. "...Really?"

He stops before saying more and rebuilds composure, then takes another look at her pouting expression that refuses to look back at him. Her eyes are sorrowful as they drift away, and her body faintly trembles. Such a dramatic scene between two people who, by now, have only known each other for less than three hours. "How much do we mean to each other to get so upset? I guess we're friends at this point, and here I am shouting at her." He sighs and scratches his head in thought. "I'm the worst."

He bows his head, but this time it's to her back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

"Shut up." She tosses her empty bag of chips overhead and it hits him, but not on his head like she intended. "You did."

"Nah, I'm just a bit stressed," He catches the bag, crumples it up, and tosses it back at her back, "and maybe a bit hungry."

"Hah, that's what I like to hear," she takes the crumbled bag and spins around to throw it back at him. "but you haven't completely convinced me. Being hangry is a lazy excuse."

That's the mood he likes to see, and he wasn't lying when he said he was lying. It's not his personality to be mean, and he isn't frustrated by anything in life like she seems to be, just has a battery to restore, which he's curious to find being charged even in her presence.

It's not his focus for the moment though, as he smiles back and chuckles at how it ended up like this. "What's it gonna take?"

"At this point," she examines him with a thumb and finger framing her chin, "It's tough to prove, so I'll take some bribery."

"If it's another hundred dollars, I won't pay you back till I graduate and get a job."

"Good point, but it won't take that," she takes another look, then reaches out her hand. "Your hoodie."

"I'm not giving you my hoodie," he wraps his arms around himself and turns to protect it.

"You have no other choice, and I'm only borrowing it." She clicks her tongue twice and gestures towards herself. "Now hand it over. You didn't need it on before."

"Ugh..." He pulls it off and hands it over skeptically. "What are you gonna wear it? Shouldn't you do that with a b—"

"No," She interrupts while in focus of flattening it out over her legs.

"A blanket?"

"No, pipe it down and give me a moment... God." Once it's laid out as flat as possible, she starts to fold it into a neat square. "You've been a pain in MY neck today, and this bench sucks, so It's my pillow."

"ah—, I see. I always thought you didn't seem comfortable."

"Why were you staring?" She drops the folded hoodie onto the bench and pats it.

"I'm no—I mean, I wasn't, and why even say it like that?"

"Heh..." She lies down with her head landing on the makeshift pillow. "Because I know you're a creep."

"Huh? Oh come on..." He cocks his head back and facepalms again. "Can you give me a break?"

She giggles a bit. "Nope."

They both sigh, she—out of satisfaction, and he—out of weariness. It's a peaceful closure, and the two end up smiling in their silent treaty. 

While she lay in rest, he decides to take out his unfinished chips the crumple of the bag in his hand an allure to his hunger, but unbeknownst to him, it had a similar draw to her as well. Her stomach bellows a growl so strong it pulls his attention off the chip he fished out.

"You—uh... You want some?" He holds out his bag.

She quickly stands up and throws the hoodie right in his face, a skill she seems to practice perfectly. Then she shouts. "Shut-up-shut-up-shut-up, creep!"

"Ah..." He lowers the bag offer and the hoodie, falls down to his lap. 

She storms away with her belongings, leaving him on a very awkward note.