In the Open

"You're playing with fire."

Thirty minutes later, a salad and a side of fries is placed in front of me, making my mouth water as I look at the crispy, starch-filled sticks of salty goodness.

As soon as I thank the waitress, and glare at Nick for not doing so, I immediately set a fry onto my all too eager taste buds.

Now, I know most people would be totally freaked out by my reaction to a regular food dish. But at my house, the most unhealthy food we have is fruit.

Yeah, that's right. My mom claims that fruit, "Is a lie wrapped up in the word 'healthy'".

I mean, what kind of person considers fruit as unhealthy food?

The last time I had fries was three months, two weeks, and four days ago. And yes, I count the days.

I eat half of my fries, and then I move onto my chicken salad. I am aware that Nick sits before me, probably shocked at the way I scarfed down those fries as if I hadn't eaten in weeks.

Oh, well.

"So, when do you want to meet up to start writing out the scenes?" I ask once my plate is clean. He finishes his last fry, and cleans his greasy fingers with a napkin, before settling his attention on me.

"You can do the scenes. I'm going to be acting the part, which is bad enough. So you can write them." He demands, quirking an eyebrow as if daring me to argue.

Which is exactly what I'm going to do.

"Did you not hear the part where we're partners? We do this project -the whole project- together. I'm not just going to sit around and do all of the work while you stand there acting like a typical male." I lean back in the booth, glaring at him while doing so, and bite my tongue to avoid falling into a forty-minute rant about his horrible character.

"Typical male?" He inquires, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Congratulations- the boy can hear!" I praise sarcastically, clapping my hands in a mocking manner.

"Whatever- let's go." He slides out of the booth, throwing down thirty dollars in the process, and starts walking outside before I can protest.

As soon as my foot falls on the ground, my eyes snap to the sky.

I've always had a weird obsession with it. It's just so unpredictable in every way. Clouds of all different sizes litter the sky in random clusters, creating a beautiful pattern on a colorful canvas. Colors are woven all throughout the bright blue infinite space, miles and miles above us, making a magnificent abstract painting with air and light.

As of right now, the sky is beginning to turn pink near the surface, and the sun is shielded by armor made from thick, white clouds.

Hearing a car door shut, I snap back into reality, and scurry over to the car that waits beside me. I slide into the passenger seat next to an impatient Nick.

Ignoring the fact that he's obviously irritated, I say, "We can work on writing the scenes in school, and we can meet up after to actually practice the acting part of the assignment. Sound like a plan?"

He answers with a head nod, and begins driving  back to my house.

"Lesson 1 of being a respectable human being," I pause and look over to see a noticeable tick in his jaw, "Answer questions verbally."

He glares at the road, and his hands tighten on the wheel, turning white from his harsh grip.

For some reason, making him mad causes a feeling of satisfaction to bubble within me. He always acts so careless and impassive, so seeing that I have an affect on him- negative or not- makes me feel accomplished.