Super Crush (BxB)

Rude Run-In

When Abe plops down beside me in homeroom the next morning, he is perfectly put together. His appearance at school would never give any inkling that he was in Japan until the wee hours of the morning, fighting a monstrous life-sucking alien slug with his superhero teammates.

Though his perfect white smile, smoothly-shaven face, and flawless expensive sneakers trick all of our fellow schoolmates into believing Abe is living his best life, I know it is the world's greatest acting. I can tell he is running solely on energy drinks and Skittles at this point.

I reach into my bag and pull out a pack of cherry Pop-Tarts, his favorite flavor. I nod at him to say that I know he hasn't eaten anything yet. He half-smiles: partially telling me I am right, partially telling me thank you. With finesse, I slide the breakfast danish of champions onto his desk. We both know that they are not necessarily the most healthy option, but it doesn't stop him from quickly opening the package to ensure the best flavor was provided. Like all level-headed individuals, Abe breaks the perimeter crust off first before enjoying the gooey icing-covered fruit filling. I take pride in knowing that I showed him the proper way to eat the morning treat.

"Hey, you got the goods?" he whispers between the completion of tart one and the start of tart two.

He always makes these situations feel like a back alley drug deal. Pulling up my computer files, I find the one he needs.

"In your mailbox...right...now." I press send on the Shakespeare essay I helped Abe complete. When he texted me a raincheck for pizza and Captain Destructo, I knew he wouldn't have time to record his thoughts on Othello killing his wife either. So, I told him I'd finish the last couple paragraphs for him. Producing believable work for Abe is the least I can do for him. Also, being in different English classes doesn't hurt. 

"Is it an 'A' this time?" he jokes.

"Hey, Noah Brasso is an 'A' student. Alexander Abraham is more like a 'B+' kinda guy." I stick my tongue out at him. He knows I still wrote the hell out of the essay for him. It's probably an "A-."

"You're not wrong," he says, pulling up the essay. "Thanks, Noah. Sincerely."

"Stop. I've told you a hundred times, no thanks needed. This is how we do."

He reaches across the aisle and tugs the gold chain I habitually nibble on from my mouth. The pendant he got me for my birthday years ago falls against my shirt and I tuck it back under my collar. I told him to help me break the weird habit. He hasn't disappointed.  Abe has gently snagged the metal cord from my mouth in the middle of conversations, while jogging together, in the middle of video game battles, and most often when I am concentrating on schoolwork. One time he even necklace-motioned to me in the audience from the stage as he addressed the school about an upcoming pep rally.

I send him a thank you nod just as the bell for first period tells us to start our day. We sit a moment longer, enjoying each other's presence before a whole morning of not seeing each other until lunch.  Our teacher gives a quick teeth whistle to remind us that we can't evade the inevitable, and Abe and I finally file towards the door.

Entering the busy hallway, Abe crams the last bite of frosted cherry into his mouth with a sigh of contentment.

"You still talking to Nikki?" I ask, not actually wanting to hear an affirmative.

I hear the burst of sharp air escape his nose. The exact laugh of one who has scrolled through too many memes on his phone to take the effort for a real laugh. He shakes his head slowly.

"She said she needs a break. Calls me distant and uninterested."

"Isn't that what Emily said two months ago?"