Elliot jogged down the stairs and made her way to the kitchen. Tristan sat slumped at the table, staring, unseeing, into his mug. Cece turned around as Elliot entered, a spoon in her mouth.

"I have absolutely no idea if I should be feeling excited about my first day of working with Beck," Elliot said. "Or feel a sense of foreboding?"

Cece removed the spoon.

"That's easy to figure out," Cece said. "Do you hear deep bass drums playing in your mind? Or see dark looming clouds on the horizon?"

"No, but I haven't put my headphones in or looked outside."

"Then I think you're good," Cece said. She waved her spoon about. "So what if the last encounters you have had with Beck haven't been great? Like the rest of America, and the world of fashion, we will ignore the past and move forward blindly."

"Rousing speech. I feel I could take on the world."

"Don't be dramatic, it's just a new book and the world's first and foremost single syllable speaking male."

Elliot nodded. "You're right. The world would be easier to take on."

Cece gave her a wide smile. "That's the correct attitude."

Elliot shook her head and reached for a bowl. As she filled it with cereal, she eyed Tristan.

"Does he realize he's in the kitchen? Or do you think he's not awake yet?" Elliot asked, pouring in milk.

Cece cocked her head.

"It's still undecided," she said. "Though don't get too close, he might bite."

Elliot nodded and leaned against the counter, eating her cereal.

"Are we still on for tonight?" Elliot asked. "With the whole ballet and such?"

Cece shrugged.

"Pretty sure. He didn't mumble anything to the contrary when he came down."

"Alright," Elliot said, finishing off her cereal. "Then I'll see you later. Good luck on your chapter."

Cece raised her mug in salute.

"Thanks, I plan on repainting the third floor today," Cece said.

Elliot started to walk away.

"Okay, anything, but orange and pink. If nothing comes to you, you might try a mural."

"I don't paint."

"So it will be impressionism."

Cece nodded.

"Wobbly blobs and smashed faces, got it. Brilliant idea, I can sell tickets for people to come see it, when my publisher dumps me after finding out I haven't written my chapter."

"Always good to have a backup plan. Later."

"Break a leg," Cece said.

Elliot stopped and looked back.

"I'm writing a book, not putting on a play," Elliot said.

"Right. Break a dictionary."

"Thanks," Elliot said, waving.

As she approached the office, Elliot pulled out her headphones and dug in her bag for her key. She slid it into the lock, only to find the door was already unlocked. Cautiously, she opened the door. She paused as she found Beck already inside. He stood in front of the windows, a mug in one hand, the other hidden in the pocket of his jeans. Elliot stepped in and closed the door. Beck looked over.

"Hi," Elliot said. "I see you used the key I gave you. I'm glad to see it worked. Have you been here long?"

"No."

Elliot nodded, then pulled off her bag, setting it down on the couch.

"Did you make tea or coffee?" Elliot asked, gesturing to the mug.

"Tea."

"Great...umm...well, you can continue to ponder the world outside, while I get a cup," Elliot said, smiling.

Beck turned back to the window and Elliot moved to the kitchenette. She grabbed a mug and poured herself some tea. She was adding milk when someone knocked on the door. Elliot turned around in time to see Milo sticking his head. Elliot hurried over as he stepped inside. *

"What are you doing here?" Elliot asked.

"I thought I would stop by and make you coffee," Milo said, "cause you suck at making coffee."

Elliot scowled. "So do you."

Milo lifted a finger.

"Yes, but I get paid to do it."

"And that makes it better?"

"Yes."

Elliot gave him a baffled look then shook her head.

"What are you doing here?" she asked again, crossing her arms.

Milo shrugged. "I was in the neighborhood."

"How?" Elliot asked. "You don't live around here. Your job is no where near here and neither is your college."

Milo smiled.

"Must have gotten off on the wrong T stop then." He side stepped Elliot and walked up to Beck, hand outstretched. "Hi, Milo Torres."

Beck shook his hand, looking between Elliot and Milo.

"Boyfriend?" he asked.

"Friend," Milo said.

"A very intrusive and prying friend," Elliot said.

"Must be a best friend then," Beck said.

Milo nodded and slid his hands into his pockets.

"Naturally. Coffee?" he asked.

Elliot pointed to the door.

"Get out," she said.

"But I was going to make you coffee," Milo said. "How often do I do that?"

Elliot gave him a flat look.

"Considering I stop by the cafe almost everyday," Elliot said. "I would have to say this is the first time."

"See," Milo said. "You would be crazy not to take me up on the offer."

"Leave Milo. Now."

"You know your charm is as blunt as a baseball bat," Milo said.

"It's because I'm trying to make up for my lack of one at the moment."

Milo shook his head.

"Who ever said sticks and stones, obviously had not met the McKenzie sisters."

"Oh, what I wouldn't trade for a bat right now," Elliot said.

Milo smirked. "You flirt."

Elliot pointed to the door "Out!"

Milo turned to Beck and gave him a nod.

"Nice meeting you. Good luck," Milo said.

A smile tugged at the corner of Beck's mouth. Milo left, leaving Elliot to glare at the closed door.

"What did I ever do in life to deserve him?" Elliot muttered.

She turned to Beck.

"Sorry about him. I would like to say that's unusual behavior for him, but it's pretty normal," Elliot said, giving him an apologetic smile. "He works at a cafe I go to and somehow I got stuck with him as a friend. Hopefully, that is the last time we have to see him. Anyways, how was your weekend?"

"Fine," Beck said.

Elliot stared at Beck, waiting for more but got nothing.

"Alright then," she said. "I guess we should, you know, get started and what not."

Beck nodded and took a seat on the couch. Elliot sat across from him, her mouth suddenly dry. At the sight of him sitting there, waiting for her to say something, she had the odd feeling that something had taken up gymnastics in her stomach. She clasped her hands and rested them on her knees, forcing herself to remain calm.

"Alright, so I've never actually worked with another writer before," Elliot said. She shook her head. "I mean I've worked with Cece and we've talked about things before. But I've never done anything like this before, you know, writing an actual book with someone else."

Beck looked at her with an impassive face, his manner relaxed.

"What do you have so far?" he asked.

"Not much. I want this to be a joint project," Elliot said.

Beck nodded.

"So far," Elliot said, "I have a girl whose name is-" Elliot choked on the name Abby. She swallowed. "Actually not sure about that yet. Possibly...Tess," Elliot said, tossing out a random name. "Anyways Tess would be visiting her grandmother in North Carolina, near the beach." *

"Have you ever been to North Carolina?" Beck asked.

Elliot froze for a second.

"A few times for a couple book tours. I just stayed the night."

Beck nodded.

"So you know the town you're writing about."

Elliot fidgeted.

"Not really. I was going to make up a town."

"Okay," Beck said, his face unreadable.

"Anyways, Tess will be visiting her grandmother for the summer."

"Where are her parents?"

"Back in...um...New York."

"Still married?"

"Yes."

"Happily?"

"Does it matter?"

Beck raised his eyes brows in surprise.

"Of course it does." He leaned forward. "Whether they are happily married or not has a major impact on Tess's perspective on life, relationships and love." *

Elliot nodded. "Of course. Right."

"So...?"

"They are happily married."

Beck settled back on the couch.

"So Tess is with her grandmother-"

"Father's or mother's side?" Beck asked.

"Mother's."

"Are they close?"

"Not really. Occasional visits."

"How come Tess is there for the whole summer?"

Elliot didn't respond, her thoughts becoming a chaotic mess. Beck raised an eyebrow, prompting her.

"Not sure yet," Elliot said.

Beck nodded. "Okay. Continue."

********************

The sun was starting to set when Elliot looked at her phone and sighed.

"That's going to be it for today," she said. "I have a ballet show I have to get ready for."

Beck gave her a puzzled look.

"My brother, Tristan, likes to take Cece and me along when he watches shows. It helps if he has someone he can make comments too."

"Your brother is Tristan McKenzie? The choreographer."

"You know who he is?" Elliot asked, a little surprised.

"I've seen one or two of his pieces. Also his name is on most of the posters in every T station."

"Right," Elliot said.

Beck stood and picked up his satchel.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," Beck said.

"Yes, you will."

Beck left and Elliot collapsed back onto the couch, with a huff. She pulled out her phone and called Cece.

"You're alive," Cece answered. "That's a good sign. How's Beck?"

"Still alive as well."

"Well, that's unfortunate, but I guess there are worse things in the world."

"Agreed, I don't know what at the moment, but I assume there must be something worse."

"So how'd it go?"

Elliot put a hand over her face.

"We have flushed out the fact that I'm a terrible writer," she said.

"At least your accepting this standing up."

"I'm sitting down."

"Then there is no hope for you whatsoever," Cece said, with mock sadness. "What happened?"

Elliot dropped her hand.

"I started telling him about my idea and he constantly kept asking questions, poking holes in it."

"Simple solution then: use duck tape, works every time."

"Cece. Sympathy please."

"This a good thing, El. You wanted this. Remember?"

"Yes, but for the life of me I can't remember why at the moment," Elliot said.

"Artist integrity."

"I know." Elliot grumbled.

"El, think about how much you are going to learn by doing this. Already you sound like a better writer."

"That doesn't surprise me, I've been working on my professional writer's voice."

Cece laughed and Elliot smiled.

"This is a good thing?" Elliot asked.

"It's a good thing."

"I have a feeling this is going to be the longest couple months of my life."

"Hmm..."

"What?"

"Do you age the same if they are the longest months of your life?" Cece mused. "Would time be slowed or sped up in that department, considering you're moving slower than everyone else."

"While you ponder that question, I'm going to hang up. I'll see you soon," Elliot said.

"Or will you, if time is relatively slow for you?"

"Shut up."

The sound of Cece's laugh echoed through the phone right before Elliot hung up.

********************

The curtains dropped as the audience started applauding. The curtains rose again and a line of dancers stepped forward and bowed. Elliot leaned over to Tristan.

"What did we think of that last one?" she asked.

Tristan looked at her, while clapping. The gesture seemed to contain as much boredom and annoyance as he could muster.

"It was complete and utter horse-"

The sound in the theater rose, drowning out Tristan's final word.

"Then why are we clapping?" Elliot asked, her hands becoming sore.

"Because if we don't people might look our way for being rude," Tristan said.

"And we care about people looking at us?" Elliot asked. "Since when?"

"Since we are at the ballet and people here would know me."

Elliot nodded and leaned back in her chair. The curtain fell and the house lights brightened. The theater filled with the sound of rustling as everyone started to stand.

"Wake Cece up," Tristan said. *

Elliot turned and nudged Cece. Cece jerked her head up and started clapping. She stopped almost as quickly as she looked around and noticed people leaving.

"Well, that was nice, wasn't it?" Cece said, looking at Tristan and Elliot.

"A little late Cece," Elliot said.

"And completely wrong," Tristan said.

They stayed seated as the theater emptied.

"Alright, we're good," Tristan said, looking around. "Let's go."

He stood and walked down the aisle, Elliot and Cece following. Cece yawned as they went.

"I liked the part where they were dancing on their toes," Cece said.

Tristan looked back at her.

"Interesting, none of it was on pointe. It was all modern," Tristan said.

Cece shrugged.

"Must have been my dream then," she said.

Elliot laughed as they pushed through the doors. They were half way across the foyer when they were stopped by a tall, blonde guy.

"You're Tristan McKenzie," the guy said, in an awed tone.

"So I am," Tristan said. "Funny how these things happen."

Elliot smiled.

"I'm a huge fan of your work," the guy said.

"Thank you. What is your name?" Tristan asked.

"Peter Wanner, I was one of the dancers tonight." the guy said.

Tristan opened his notebook and flipped through it for a few moments before tearing out a page. He handed it to Peter, who took it with a puzzled look.

"What's this?" Peter asked, looking at the paper then up at Tristan.

"You are a good dancer and have potential," Tristan said. "These are notes on improvements. Good luck." *

Tristan walked away and pushed open the front doors. The sound of the city filled their ears, disjointed conversation, cars rushing by, music spilling out of open windows. The lights of Boston glowed brightly in the dark night.

"I think he started crying," Cece said.

"From gratitude, no doubt," Tristan said.

"Naturally," Elliot said. "Tell me Tristan, did you become a choreographer so you could abuse budding dancers?"

Tristan shook his head.

"Not at all," he said. "It's merely a perk."

"That's it!" Cece said, smacking her head.

Tristan and Elliot gave her an odd look. Cece stared at nothing, her thoughts elsewhere.

"I have to go," Cece said, turning and walking away.

Tristan and Elliot looked after her. Elliot turned to Tristan.

"Alright, what do you bet?" she asked. *

Tristan was silent for a moment.

"I say we don't see her for two days and she writes three chapters," Tristan said.

"I say three days and five chapters. There was a special kind of spark in her eyes."

"Okay, $20?"

"You're on," Elliot said, shaking his hand.

They looked back at where Cece had disappeared.

"Do you think she will ever write on a normal schedule like other people?" Elliot asked.

"Not likely." Tristan looked at Elliot. "Want to get a drink?"

"If by drink you mean waffles covered in Nutella and not alcohol, then there is no answer to that other than yes," Elliot said.

"Of course I mean waffles covered in Nutella. Alcohol. You say the funniest things sometimes," Tristan said. *

"I'm known to be odd. I blame mom," Elliot said. "How about on the way to obesity you tell me who you are bringing to the wedding as your date?"

"Well, since Heather ripped out my heart, chopped it up, sautéed it and then proceeded to eat it, I'm a little turned off women." Tristan said, dryly. "Who knows though? Maybe I'll Craig's list the position out, what do you think?"

"I think your brilliance has no bounds."

"Good, let's hope the girl who replies thinks the same thing."

**********************************************************************

Hi!

So there you have it another chapter!! Now I have to ask if you were going to be an animal, what would you be? Choose carefully because you can not change your answer.

Vote, comment, follow. I would be a cat because I could sleep all day, ignore people and they would still love. That is the life right there.