Twice The Trouble

Chapter 27: The Tiff

Stacy

We had fifteen minutes left before our respective classes began so after our impromptu photo shoot, I suggested we grab a quick bite to eat at one of the school grounds scattered with food stands and local delicacies.

As Bryce and I aimlessly strolled along the pavement, surrounded by vendors, assorted students from neighboring universities, and a large cloud of smoke emanating from barbecue grills, I pointed to a wooden kiosk manned by a middle-aged lady in a white-polka-dotted top and baggy jeans. She was selling fish-balls, squid balls, fried fish, hotdogs, sausages, and nuts.

The fused scent of varied Asian junk food wafting through the air was divine and heavenly.

"Let's go there!" I told Bryce, already dragging him by the wrist towards the local stand.

"What? No-" He tried to protest but I was already looping my arm through his in an arm-lock.

"Release me this instant!" His squirming was futile. He may be stronger than me, but I was fueled by my amusement towards his discomfort. I browsed the food choices with delight.

"Ate, he'll have two of those, three of these, and four of that," I told the lady vendor.

I felt Bryce stop moving. Our blue eyes met. And he echoed: "'He'll'? Just me?"

Since he quit resisting, I slowly slid my arm from around his. Then I cheekily grinned at him.

"My cousin Ate Jolene packed me my favorite snack today," I told Bryce as I shrugged my pink backpack off and steadied it against my blue pencil skirt, opening the zipper and fishing out a small yellow plastic box containing a dozen chocolate-coated strawberries fresh from a farm.

He stared at my box of small red fruit bathed in brown syrup. I wonder what he was thinking.

"Do you have an addiction to anything strawberry-flavored?" he inquired me as the female vendor handed him his tall plastic cup of fish balls and squid balls.

I picked up a strawberry and popped it into my mouth. Mid-chew, I glanced at Bryce and said:

"It's my guilty pleasure," I said while chewing, so my voice was weird.

Bryce frowned in disapproval at my lack of etiquette.He put two fingers under my chin and closed my mouth.

"You really aren't as ladylike as you appear to be. Manners," he scolded me with distaste.

Annoyed, I lifted another red fruit from my yellow box and pressed it against his face.

I laughed gleefully when some of the chocolate coating smeared part of his left cheek.

"Now you're just being immature," he sighed while licking the syrup with his tongue as he removed the strawberry from his face. He examined it briefly before tossing it into his mouth.

The corners of my lips tugged upward when he smiled a little after swallowing the snack.

"Ha! I told you it was delicious," I smugly said to him.

He arched a brow at me. "You never said such a thing."

"Oh." I deflated a bit. But then I saw his untouched cup of food. "Aren't you eating those?"

Bryce looked caught out as his eyes lowered to the plastic cup in his right hand. "No."

"Why not?" I ventured testily.

"I'm not used to this kind of dish," he said with a deep frown.

I gave him an are-you-kidding-me look. I asked him: "What kind of food do you eat anyway?"

"Lobsters. Stuffed lamb. Roast beef and black truffle. Caviar, to name a few," he enumerated.

I gawked at his blank expression and said: "Do you only eat at fine-dining restaurants?"

"There's that," he answered with a terse shrug. "Sometimes I try to cook for myself."

Now it was my turn to raise a brow at him. "Aren't you half-Filipino?"

"How can you tell?"

"Your surname. De Los Reyes. Apart from that, nothing. You look too American. Boyish brown hair. Deep-sea eyes. Your brother looks more Asian than you."

A heavy sigh escaped his mouth. He pinned his gaze on the plastic cup in his hand again.

I ate one more strawberry before resealing my snack-box and shoving it inside my pink bag.

"Here, let me," I offered, taking the transparent cup from his fingers. I also swiped the thin stick from him and speared three fish balls through the narrow brown stick and showed it to him.

Bryce stared at me in disbelief. "You're going to feed me? You can't be s-Mph!" I stuffed the food into his mouth while he was talking, which made him glare at me but he had no choice than to continue consuming the soft white spheres. He fastened his eyes for a few seconds.

When he opened them, I shot him a sly smile. "Well?" I goaded him.

"It's quaint," he commented. "Very piquant."

"Well, the Philippines is prominent for its charming and provocative dishes, after all."

Bryce threw me a ghost of a smile. He didn't look one bit dumbfounded that I knew what his words meant. He didn't see me as a clueless blonde that most people portrayed me as.

To make sure of something, I asked him: "You won't renege on your promise, right?"

"I'm a man of my word," he said, holding up one hand like a boy scout making an oath.

"Good." I was glad he wasn't the kind of person to renounce his promises.

"By the way," he suddenly started. I looked at him, and he went on: "Whatever happened with that black-haired guy who keeps begging for your time?"

He was pertaining to Mark Domingo. My face suddenly turned sour at the mention of him.

I rolled my sky blue eyes heavenward. I looked at Bryce and said: "What about him?"

"A lot of freshmen have been talking about how miserable he's been."

"Quite nosy, aren't you." I spoke with barely masked irritation.

Bryce regarded me sternly. "You could have been less harsh, turning him down in public. A lot of people saw how you relentlessly dismissed his efforts to try and talk to you."

I crossed my arms across my chest and glared at him, ignoring the students passing by who were shooting us curious and lingering glances.

"Rejection is rejection, I make no exceptions," I told him coldly.

The brown-haired teen tilted his head. "He seems really down since the rejection."

I sputtered a hollow laugh. "Of course he's going to feel crappy! Who wouldn't?"

"You were too harsh," Bryce told me,his expression blank.

"If I was nicer about it, would it make a difference?" I snapped. "No matter how much I sugarcoat my words, it's still rejection.He'll feel bad no matter how I put it. If I act friendly with him now, would that make him feel better? I'd just be sending mixed signals. I don't want to lead him on after I said no."

Bryce remained silent, staring at me. So I continued:

"Besides, I'm better off with him hating me in the end. One less person to deal with."

I slid out my phone from my gray vest-pocket and checked the time. Five minutes to One.

"I'm going to be late," I said,more to myself. I then turned to Bryce. "I'm counting on your word."

Not three seconds after I began to walk away from him, I heard his monotonous voice call out:

"Are you always this cold?"

I threw an icy smile over my shoulder. "Tit for tat, De Los Reyes."  And so I disappeared into a horde of college students hurrying to their designated buildings and classrooms.