I Had A Goat With No Nose

Worthy Opponents (part 4)

Connor slowed a little as he pulled into the left turn lane, having spotted the giant neon bell. He pulled into a spot near the door and flicked off the CD player, reaching under the steering wheel to turn the key and untwist the wires. They both stepped out of the car and walked across the parking lot, Tasha realizing she had to step a little quicker to keep up with his long, easy strides. That had never been the case before, usually people had to keep up with her. She kind of liked it this way. Of course he got to the door first and, without any ceremony or great show, opened it for her. She looked at him as she walked past, something like confusion on her face, but let it go. He followed her up to the counter and stood behind her with his hands in his pockets, face dangerously close to her ear as he leaned in.

“Whatcha gonna get?” She turned slightly and raised an eyebrow.

“Tacos. Lots and lotsa tacos.” He pulled back a little and made eye contact, raising an eyebrow to match hers.

“Didn’t know you were a taco fan…” How did he make absolutely everything sound pervy, but incredibly hot at the same time?

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me Connor. Example: I own a cat.”

“A cat? Really? Okay, I want you to tell me every single thing you can about your cat on the count of three. One… two…”

“You are very smarky, you know.” She looked at him, triumphant, until he giggled a little and caught her eye.

“Smarky?” Uh oh. Maybe that bottle of Boone’s Farm had hit her a little harder than she originally thought. But in this case, deny, deny, deny.

“I said snarky.” Connor rocked back a little on his heels, hands still in his pockets.

“No, you definitely said smarky. With an ‘m.’ Smarky.” Now he was the one smiling triumphantly.

“Yeah, well, at least I didn’t make a really bad taco joke, so…”

“Weak, Tasha, weak. I know you can come up with something better than that.”

“Oh really? Like I said before, there’s a lot you don’t know about me. Maybe after 30 minutes I run out of wittiness and turn back into a cantaloupe…”

“I thought it was customary for one to turn back into a pumpkin…”

“I prefer cantaloupes.”

“Something else to add to my list of ‘Interesting Things About Tasha.’”

“You’re keeping a list?”

“Of course. And it’s getting pretty long.” She turned all the way around to face him, crossing her arms and assuming her most authoritative stance. He still had a good four inches on her, but she could work with that. She could work very well with him on top of her… Oh god. Bad. Too many that’s what she said’s all at once. She shook her head to return focus.

“And what, may I ask, is on this list?”

“Well, there’s the irrational hatred of cookies…”

“Not irrational, we just haven’t discussed it yet…”

“Your penchant for interrupting me… ah, wait. Your love of your cat, affinity for $3 wine, love of porch roofs, and, most notably, inexplicable attraction to my hair.” She blushed for what felt like the first time in years, not used to being read so easily. He laughed at the sudden shift and chummily put a hand on her shoulder. “See, I know more about you than you think.” She picked up his hand with feigned disgust and dropped it at his side.

“And this is where I would normally run away screaming ‘STALKER!’ but I’m too hungry right now.” With that she turned and walked up to the counter. “Can I get a number 11, beef baha, soft shell, and a caramel apple empanada?” The pimply boy behind the register struggled, searching the buttons row by row until he found the right choices.

“That’ll be $5.89, is that for here or to go?” His voice cracked a little on the question and Tasha bit her lip to keep from giggling. Connor saw her shoulders tense, though, and kicked the heel of her shoe lightly. She whipped around and back quickly, just enough time to send him a death glare. “Here, please. Thanks.” Teenage Stereotype handed back her credit card, cup and receipt, and she moved over to the other end of the counter to fill up her drink. By the time she was done, Connor had joined her at the fountain, drink cup ready. She smiled to herself as he filled it up with Mountain Dew Code Red, no ice. She had lost track of the number of things they eerily had in common, and wondered if that whole ‘opposites attract’ thing really held any merit. It had never seemed to work for her before. She moved over to the condiment counter, grabbing a straw and napkins, pocketing a few packs of mild sauce to take home to her roommates. It seemed they could never keep enough of it around the house, they put it on just about everything.

“I’ll be nice and not turn you in for petty theft.” He had suddenly appeared behind her.

“You have a bad habit of sneaking up on people.” She stuffed a few more into the pocket of her sweatshirt and turned to him. “And besides, they expect you to take this stuff. That’s why it’s out here. It’s not for me anyway.”

“So you’re just an enabler, then. Feeding other people’s habits, not thinking of the consequences.”

“You’re awfully emotional about Mild Sauce Addiction.”

“It’s just, I’ve lost some good people in the last year. It’s hard. And you never see it coming, it just seems so innocent.”

“Like so many addictive substances.”

“I know. The problem is it’s a gateway sauce. They overload on the mild, and soon it’s not enough. They have to move on to spicy, which is a completely different animal, and then… man, I don’t even want to talk about the people who move on to hot.”

“I’ve only ever seen one.” Tasha took a sit of her pop, then bowed her head for a minute. She kissed two of her fingers, then raised them with her eyes to the ceiling in recognition. “This one’s for you, Rodrigo.” Connor placed a hand on her arm, a serious look on his face, and nodded like he understood. Tasha covered his hand with her own, mouthing ‘thank you’ as a single glistening tear slipped down her cheek. Connor watched it make its path down to her chin, then suddenly stood back. And began applauding.

“Let it never be said that your wit dies after 30 minutes, Tasha. That was masterful.” She shrugged her shoulders and took another sip, then walked over to the counter and picked up her food, made her way to the nearest booth and sat down. Connor stood where he was, head thrown back laughing. Item number seven for his list: Tasha was never going to back down first.

posted by emily @ 1:50 AM