I found myself sitting in front of the computer, irate as usual. I didn’t honestly understand why I still talked to him. All he did was get at my goat about everything I did. Why even bother anymore? He may be one of the few intellectual people left in the world that I knew, but was intelligent conversation once in a while worth his infuriating my every other time we talked?

I don’t even remember what the conversation was about. All I can remember typing is “Hey, buddy, a word to the wise...” and his annoying rebuttal.

“You do know that a word to the wise isn’t necessary, right? It’s the common folk who need the advice.”

I glared at the screen, fuming silently. Sometimes I just wished that I could reach through the monitor to wherever he was, over twelve hours away, and strangle his snarky little neck. I raised my hands to the keyboard to rebuke him for being such a smart ass when he responded on another topic completely.

“Randomly, I’m coming down later this week. Do you want to go get coffee or something? I shouldn’t be too busy this time.”

I sighed, erasing the words I had input. I rolled my eyes at myself as my fingers let him know that that would be great, there was a Starbucks near my house and I hadn’t had a Frappuccino in too long. It really had been a while since I’d seen him: four months may seem like nothing to some people, but after he had moved for college, I found myself missing him more and more. Except, of course, during those irritating online conversations when I didn’t want him anywhere near me.

Despite myself, I anticipated those few moments I would get to spend engaged in conversation with him wherever we decided to stop for coffee. As days passed, the adrenaline began to course through my veins in an attempt to make him hurry, hurry, get here faster! I hated myself for feeling so positive towards someone whose views on me always seemed so negative. My conflicting emotions offered a comfort in paradox, and there I stayed until the moment he knocked on my door.

As soon as I opened the door, the flood of emotion I had kept back overwhelmed. I hugged him tightly and he laughed and hugged me back. For a moment it didn’t matter how much of a jerk he could be at times: he was real for once, and tangible. That was all that mattered.

Then he pulled away and asked, “well, are we going to go? Or are you going to stand in your doorway all day hanging on me?”

I think I hit him a little too hard, because he was rubbing his shoulder for the better part of ten minutes afterwards.

Once we got into his car, he got onto the road and we talked casually about his college, his major, my high school, annoying peers, where we lived and what we did. Even during lulls in the conversation, it was as if it was unnecessary to say anything. No silence was awkward, else it wasn’t silence long.

Once the car pulled into the parking lot and claimed a space as its own, he warned me, “I won’t be able to stay long. I know this is only a ten minute walk from your house; can you make it back alone?” I affirmed him of that and he seemed very relieved. I didn’t mind. He only came down once in a while and twenty minutes of his precious time was something I really appreciated.

We walked into the Starbucks, just kind of enjoying the scenery, which was a main road, so I guess it’s not that much, but it’s what I do and he used to call home. The guy who took our orders looked at us kind of funny because it took us a while to figure out exactly what we wanted because each time one of us made a choice, the other would criticize it until the choice changed.

Eventually I came out with a Vanilla Frappuccino, he with Chai tea. For about fifteen minutes the conversation moved along smoothly, with us complaining about the ridiculous pricing at the place and talking school and girls, like normal, with teasing insults at every turn.

I was about halfway done with my Frappuccino when he began searching the store walls. I raised an eyebrow at him until he noticed the watch around my wrist and asked what time it was. I shoved my wrist in his face and he sighed.

I returned the sigh. “Well, at least it’s been fun, right?”

“Of course. It’s always a pleasure to give you a hard time.” He smiled and nodded.

I glared at him for a moment, then grinned. “Of course. Where are you off to now?”

He spent around three more of his precious minutes telling me where he was headed after this. Family, other friends, with just all around a busy day ahead. It seemed as though a brief respite would do him good. I started to tell him so when he made yet another jibe about my always wanting to hang around him.

This time I kept the glare. “Right. Whatever. You gotta go.” The words poured poison that I could never seem to put into the instant messages we shared. It was all the hate, the anger, the frustration coming out. Boiled together into rage at him leaving, him always leaving right when he had decided to piss me off.

He nodded again, stood up, and started to walk around the table towards the door. Once beside me, he stopped long enough to put his hand on my shoulder and mutter, “Before I go, a word to the wise...”

I looked up wearily, not really in the mood for another quip of his. He stared past me, at the coffee I still wasn’t done with on the table. Then he turned his eyes to mine as he leaned over and mumbled in my ear, “this isn’t necessary. You’re not one of the common folk.”

I turned to look at the unfinished drink before me as his hand left my shoulder. Three seconds later, a giddy rush of the outside world attacked my ears as the door opened, then rapidly receded as the air conditioner pushed from the inside to retain control.