Spinach Teeth & Cable Kings

The first time I saw Fox, I had spinach stuck in my braces.

Not exactly the origin story I'd imagined for my high school romance arc, but there I was—standing in the cafeteria, clutching my tray like a lifeline, while Fox Martinez slid into the seat across from me.

"Spinach," they said, nodding at my teeth. "Bold choice."

My face burned. I swiped at my mouth with my napkin, missing completely. "It's not a choice. It's a casualty of salad."

Fox laughed. Not mean-laughed. The genuine kind, crinkles by their eyes, charcoal-smudged eyeliner matching the black polish on their nails. I'd been lowkey obsessed with Fox since September, when they'd worn a different band tee every day of freshman orientation week.

Now here they were, eating lunch with ME.

"You're coming to my place tonight, right?" Fox asked, casual-like we did this every Friday. "Cable's bringing the Switch."

RIGHT. The gaming night Fox had mentioned in homeroom. The one I'd been overthinking since Tuesday.

"Yeah," I said, trying to sound chill. "Definitely."

Fox's basement was everything: LED strips, a mismatched couch collection, and a setup that made my PlayStation look like a calculator. Cable—real name Carlos, but everyone called him Cable because he was always charging something—had already claimed the best spot on the couch.

"Sup, Spinach Teeth," he said.

I groaned. "Does EVERYONE know?"

Fox grinned. "It's iconic. We're making it your brand."

Something shifted in my chest. Not bad-shifting. Like realizing the monster under your bed was actually just a pile of clothes you'd been too lazy to pick up.

We played Mario Kart until my thumbs hurt. Cable beat everyone every time, but Fox kept sabotaging themselves with blue shells right before the finish line, cackling like a fox—no, like SOMEONE who didn't care about winning, only that everyone was having fun.

Around midnight, we ended up on the roof, sharing fries from the place downtown. The kind of fries that come in a paper cone, greasy and perfect.

"Why'd you invite me?" I asked, picking at a cold fry. "I mean, thanks. But why?"

Fox studied me for a second. "You're always reading at lunch. Alone. And I thought, that person either hates people or they're waiting for someone to notice them."

"Which one?"

"Both," Fox said. "Me too."

The city lights flickered below us. I thought about spinach, and braces, and all the embarrassing moments I'd spent agonizing over while everyone else was just living their lives.

"Hey," Fox said, bumping my shoulder. "You got anything stuck in your teeth right now?"

I checked. "Nope."

"Pity." Fox's grin was practically criminal. "It was kind of your thing."