“Dill Pickle? Gross, Adrian.” Mel shook her head. “It goes Sour Cream and Onion, Ketchup, Barbecue, Salt and Vinegar.”

“Salt and Vinegar!?” I gasped. “I don’t even know you anymore.”

As Mel and I argued over how the potato chip hierarchy should look, an older couple walked past us, staring. It took a few moments for us to realize, but once we did we both burst into laughter, causing them to scurry away.

We settled on ketchup. It was the most “equitable choice” Mel said, considering ketchup was close to the top for both of us. On the way out of the aisle, Mel grabbed a two litre bottle of Cola.

Next was the chocolate. Mel grabbed a bag of chocolate almonds, two giant milk chocolate bars, and a case of chocolate raisins.

“You’re going all out.” I examined our cart.

“Go big or go home, dude.”

“We are going home.” I laughed.

“Don’t be a smart-ass.”

I tried not to be. “Need anything else?”

“Chocolate ice cream.”

We put it in the cart and went to the cash register to split the bill. It came to about twenty-four dollars, no biggie. We stuffed the food items in our backpacks but knew we had to get home fast before the jug of ice cream melted in mine.

“Wait, why is the ice cream in mine? It’s gonna melt,” I whined.

“Just deal with it,” Mel replied.

We bussed back to my place and decided we would order pizza for later. Mel sat on my laptop looking through a menu.

“You into pineapple?” she asked.

“Not a chance.”

“Seriously, babe? It’s the best kind.”

“No. Pineapple pizza is for people who don’t flush the toilet after they use the bathroom.”

“That’s unfair. We always order what you want when we’re at my place.”

“I mean . . . You got to choose the ice cream. Maybe I can choose the pizza.”

“Babe, we’re getting pineapple on this pizza one way or another. We’ll go half and half. What do you want on your half?”

I sighed. “Just pepperoni and salami.”

“You’re boring. But it’s set in stone. We’ll order it this evening. Let’s just watch some movies for a bit,” she said as she popped open a bag of chips and began munching away. I told her I’d save my appetite for later.

So we watched a horror film while waiting. They weren’t as scary during the day. It was about teenagers who were supposed to be around our age, but they were being played by actors who were clearly in their thirties.

“Nobody at our school is that hot,” Mel said as the main character came on screen. He was a white guy with blonde hair and muscles. I was the polar opposite: black, chubby, and with curly hair.

“I mean . . . I’m kind of the opposite of that,” I pointed out.

“You are,” Mel confirmed.

I felt a bit self-conscious when she said that. But she continued by saying, “Though, those Eurocentric beauty standards aren’t my desire if that’s what you’re getting at, babe. I’m attracted to you. The boy with the hair that refuses to fall flat, and with skin that is brown and beautiful, like mine.”