Enemies With Benefits

That Damn Bag of Chips

It was the first Monday of the semester, and Aurelian Heights University buzzed with life. Freshmen ran around in tailored uniforms and branded kicks, the campus air filled with the scent of roasted coffee and early morning ambition. The fountain at the center of the main square glistened in the morning sun, students loitering around with iced americanos and tote bags stuffed with overpriced notebooks.

Carsten Jayce Mellora Azaria parked her BMW M4 like it was made to be displayed right at the university gates. Matte black, spotless, with the engine purring like a spoiled cat. Her LV tote bag hung lazily across her shoulder, contrasting the oversized black Nike hoodie and gray sweatpants she wore—paired, of course, with fresh Jordan 4s. Effortlessly cool, confidently boyish, yet the type to turn every head in a twenty-foot radius.

She didn’t care. She just wanted to eat.

She slung her water bottle decorated with pastel cat stickers into her arm, yawned behind her hand, and headed straight to the canteen before her 9 AM class. The only thing on her mind was the potato chips she’d been craving since last night. Salty, crunchy, and perfectly seasoned. The vending machine gods better be good to her today.

But when she turned the corner and reached the canteen, the universe answered her hunger with a slap in the face.

There was one bag of potato chips left. One. In the middle rack of the vending machine, hanging like a glowing relic of salvation.

Just as she was about to press the button—

“Excuse me.”

A hand reached out from beside her and, without even looking, tapped the same button.

Beep.

She blinked and turned to the source of the audacity.

Owen Caelan Valerio Knight. He was tall, lean but built, wearing an all-black Puma track set, baggy pants, and an Onitsuka hoodie pushed halfway up his arms to reveal toned forearms. His hair Light ash-blonde , a little messy but clearly intentional, and his expression?

Bored. Cold. Nonchalant.

“Are you serious?” Carsten snapped.

The guy turned slowly to look at her, one eyebrow raised as if she was the problem.

“Yeah? I was here first.”

“You were not!” she argued. “I literally had my hand out—”

“And I had mine on the button.” He pulled the chips from the bottom slot and held them up like a trophy. “Simple mechanics. You lose.”

Carsten's jaw dropped. “Oh, wow. So that’s how you wanna play it?”

The guy tilted his head. “Play what? I just wanted chips.”

“Those chips were mine.” She stepped closer. “I’ve had a long drive, zero caffeine, and a serious craving.”

“And I’ve had a long life, zero tolerance, and a serious hunger,” he replied dryly, casually opening the bag with a soft crack. The smell of salt and vinegar hit her in the face like a personal insult.

Without another word, he shoved a chip in his mouth and walked away like nothing happened.

Asshole.

---

Room 3A was filled with the nervous energy of first-year students—shuffling papers, overachievers with pastel notebooks, and late enrollees still trying to find their seats. The door slammed open with a bit too much force, and Carsten walked in like a storm.

Elara glanced up from her seat near the front and smiled. “You okay? You look like someone stole your cat.”

“Worse,” Carsten muttered, sliding into the empty seat beside her. “Someone stole my chips.”

“Who in the world would be brave enough to do that?”

“I don’t know who he is,” she said, pulling out her scented gel pens. “But he’s tall, full of himself, wears black like he’s in mourning, and looks like he gets off on being annoying.”

Elara smirked. “Sounds like your type.”

Carsten rolled her eyes. “I hate you.”

The class hushed a little as footsteps approached the door. The professor still hadn’t arrived, but someone new stepped in, hands in pockets, phone lazily dangling from two fingers.

It was him.

Chips-thief. Hoodie boy. Walking migraine.

He scanned the room, then walked to the back row and took the seat directly behind Carsten.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

As if sensing her rage, the guy leaned forward and said under his breath, “Don’t worry. I already finished the chips.”

Carsten didn’t turn around. She calmly pulled out her Dior mirror compact, angled it over her shoulder, and gave him a death glare through the reflection.

“I’m rooting for food poisoning,” she whispered sweetly.

He smirked. “I’m rooting for you to chill out.”

Before she could say another word, the professor entered, and the class officially began.

---

The tension didn’t disappear.

Every time Carsten answered a question, she could feel him judging. Every time he spoke, she tried not to roll her eyes hard enough to strain a nerve. By the time the lecture ended, their classmates had already started whispering.

“Do they know each other?”

“They’ve been fighting with their eyes since the class started.”

“I kinda ship it?”

Carsten stood to leave, but the guy was faster.

He stood too, pulled his bag over his shoulder, and leaned toward her again.

“Nice notes. Very... colorful.” His eyes flicked to the pink highlighters and cat-themed post-its. “Do you hand those out during nap time?”

She didn’t even blink. “Keep talking, and I’ll use one of them to stab you.”

He grinned. “Looking forward to it.”

---

Back at the campus lawn, Carsten and her circle—Elara, Callie, Twyla, Nova, and Selene—gathered under their usual tree.

“So you’re telling me you almost threw hands... over a bag of chips?” Callie squealed. “That is iconic.”

“He wasn’t worth it,” Carsten mumbled. “But I want revenge.”

Twyla peeked over her sunglasses. “Name?”

“No idea.”

“Face?” Nova smirked.

“Unfortunately memorable.”

Selene stretched, cracking her knuckles. “Let us know if we need to jump him.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of campus, Owen Caelan Valerio Knight—chip thief, hoodie menace, and heartbreaker-in-progress—sat with his own circle: Rin, Theo, Jace, Zeph, and Kairo.

“Bro, what’s that smirk?” Jace asked. “You’ve been smiling since class.”

“Nothing,” Owen said, popping a mini candy into his mouth.

Kairo leaned closer. “Don’t tell me... girl trouble already?”

Owen shrugged. “Let’s just say... first day and I already met someone who can match my energy.”

Theo blinked. “In a good way or a bad way?”

“Not sure yet” He leaned back on the grass, hands behind his head. “But I kinda want to see her lose again.”

---

Back at the vending machine later that day, Carsten stood again.

This time, the rack was fully stocked. Chips galore.

She reached out to press the button, eyes narrowed just in case some guy came out of nowhere to ruin her life again.

But no one did.

She smiled and grabbed the chips.