Elliot sat perched on a stool before the office windows, a warm mug in her hand. The door opened and Beck stepped in. After he poured himself a cup of coffee, he took the stool besides Elliot's.

They sat there in silence, watching and listening to the flow of traffic below them.

"Are you going to tell me why you told your brother we were friends?" Elliot asked. "Because I have you marked as 'the-person-I-have-their-contact-info,-but-will-never-call'."

"You're marked as that-person-I'll-nod-to-as-I-pass-them-on-the-street."

"That's a step up from person-I'll-pretend-not-to-notice-at-a-restaurant. So are you going to tell me why we are now pinned to the label of friends?"

"Reasons," Beck said.

"Multiple reasons or just one?"

"Just one."

Elliot waited for a second and then nodded.

"Okay."

After another long moment, Elliot swung herself around, facing the office.

"Shall we work?" she asked.

In answer Beck moved to the couch. Elliot walked to the opposite side of the room, studying the cork board and the line of white index cards that covered it.

"Alright," she said. "I believe we have the major plot points for Tess's story line. Now we need to move on to Weston's."

Elliot turned around and looked at Beck.

"Thoughts?" she asked.

"Whatever you decide, I will write," Beck said.

Elliot climbed over the back of the couch and sat on the top, her feet on the cushions.

"Look, I want this to be a joint thing," she said. "I want to know what back story you would come up with. I want to know what Weston would think. That's why you are here. I have no idea how guys think. I mean do you even notice what a girl is wearing?"

"Sometimes."

Elliot raised her eyebrows.

"Really?" she asked. "I always figure guys just notice butts and boobs."

Beck's expression was unreadable.

"There are a few who notice a woman's face as well," Beck said, his voice even. "But they are social outcasts and rarely attend male functions."

"Harsh. What do you do with the guys that actually notice personalities?"

"They are ostracized."

"Wow! Who knew the male world was so brutal?"

Beck took another sip of coffee and made no reply.

"What group are you a part of?" Elliot asked.

"Does it matter?"

She shrugged.

"Just curious. I know I'm in the first group. I never notice what a guy is wearing and pay even less attention to his personalty. Give me a pretty face and I'm happy."

Beck nodded.

"I prefer my mannequins to have personalties and opinions," Beck said.

"You're never going to find one of those. Also how have you not been killed already?"

"I say very little when attending the male functions."

"Wise move."

Elliot took a sip of her coffee as Beck studied her.

"Can I ask you a question?" he asked.

"Wow, how can six words fill me with such dread," she said.

Beck waited, his gaze steady. Elliot sighed.

"Yes, ask your question."

"What are you afraid of?" Beck asked.

Elliot gave him a funny look, then shrugged.

"Normal things, I guess. Famine, the Yankees winning the world series, alien invasion, Twilight being made into a musical. Normal things."

"Are you aware that you use sarcasm as a way of avoiding real conversations?" *

"Hey!" Elliot said, pointing at him. "I might not actually be afraid of those first three options, but the last one is real."

Beck said nothing, his gaze saying it all.

"I'm serious," Elliot said. "Can you picture Edward singing? I can just imagine what the critics would say, 'This musical just sucked away two hours of my life."

Beck just looked at her. Elliot raised her eyebrows.

"Okay," she said. "What you would answer with if I asked you what are you afraid of? Huh?"

"I would simply say that I'm afraid of not producing a work at the caliber that I know I am capable of."

"The way you say that makes me think you expect to write the next great American novel."

Beck made no reply.

"Question, why are you helping me write my YA book, if you plan to write the next great American novel?"

"Money," Beck said.

Elliot nodded slowly.

"Right. And you're not afraid of having your name attached to it?"

"You don't need to put my name on the book," Beck said. "I'm fine if you take complete credit for the work."

Elliot gave him a long, searching look.

"Okay, I would hate for my novel to besmirch your good name," she said.

Beck looked at her, his expression calm.

"Do you want to work?" Beck asked.

Elliot shook herself from her thoughts and nodded.

"Yes," she said. "Let's work. Now what kind of person would Weston have to be to fall for a girl who is opinionated, sarcastic and a little odd?"

"He would have to be intelligent in order to hold his own against her. But also have a sense of whimsy to find her amusing."

"Alright, let's go from there."

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

An early evening breeze skipped along side Elliot as she walked home. As she neared her house, she paused as a small object flew in front of her. She looked up and saw Cece sitting at the top of the steps, a bag of raisins in her hand.

"Usually one yells fire before they launch the attack," Elliot said, walking up the stairs.

She sat down beside Cece and grabbed a handful of raisins.

"Yes, but then the other side would have a warning," Cece said. "This way they never see it coming."

"Alright," Elliot said. "Are we firing on anyone specific?"

"No."

"Then what are we doing?"

"Seeing how many raisins we can get into the back of Ms. Newet's car."*

Elliot looked to the curb and noticed the small opening in the back window of the BMW.

"How many have you gotten in so far?" Elliot said.

Cece tossed a raisin and it bounced off the glass and landed inside.

"Besides that one," Cece said. "One."

"How's writing going?" Elliot asked.

"I'm throwing raisins at a car, you tell me."

"At least you're being creative in your procrastination."

"Thanks. I'll tell that to my publisher. I'm sure he'll be thrilled."

Elliot launched a raisin and watched as it hit the roof then fell to the other side.

"Heads up," Cece said, hiding away the bag of raisins.

A moment later a slim woman in her late sixties, with a pinched face, walked past. She nodded at them.

"Evening ladies," she said, her tone even.

Elliot waved with her free hand.

"Hi, Ms. Newet," she said.

They continued to watch Ms. Newet until she disappeared into her house. They let out a collective breath and resumed their previous occupation.

"The woman has to let go of her grudge," Cece said.

"I know, so what if we broke one flower box."

"Poisoned a rose bush."

"Mentally scarred her cat."

"Stole her brass knocker."

"Really the woman should just let it go."

"She really should," Cece said, throwing another raisin.

"Twenty bucks says I can get more raisins in than you," Elliot said.

Cece gave her a skeptical look.

"Alright, you're on."

The girls tossed raisin after raisin, watching as they bounced off the glass, roof and hood.

"Hold up," Elliot said.

A elderly man appeared, walking a Scotty dog. He paused as he noticed the girls. Smiling, he tipped his cap to them.

"How are you lovely ladies doing?" he asked.

"Good," Cece said. "How are you doing, Ernest?"

"Not bad. What are you up to?"

"We're seeing how many raisins we can get into the back of Ms. Newet's car," Elliot said.

Ernest gave them a small grin.

"Keep up the good work," he said.

"Thanks, Ernest," Cece said, waving as he moved on.

"I always liked him," Elliot said, lobbing another raisin.

The front door open and Tristan stepped out, pulling the door shut. He paused at the sight of Cece and Elliot. They looked up at him.

"Where are you off to?" Cece asked.

"Rehearsal," Tristan said. "What are you doing?"

"Raisin competition," Elliot said.

"Whose car?"

"Ms. Newet's."

"How many so far?"

"Cece has four. I have three."

"$15 says I can double Cece's amount in two minutes," Tristan said.

Elliot looked at Cece and she nodded.

"You're on," Elliot said.

Tristan pulled out a handful of raisins. He jogged down the steps and flung the raisins into the back of the car.

"Cheater!" both girls cried, chucking raisins at him.

Tristan smirked.

"Remember to set down rules next time," he said, walking away. "You both owe me $15."

Elliot shook her head and then went back to concentrating on her aim.

"Should we eat all the ice cream and leave the carton in the freezer for him?" Cece asked.

"Of course," Elliot said.

They fell silent as they continued to throw raisins, the light beginning to drain from the sky.

"How did work go today?" Cece asked.

Elliot hesitated. She looked down at the raisins laying in her palm and fingered them.

"Cece..."

"What did he do this time?"

"How do you know he did anything?"

"Because you look like a wounded puppy. Seriously, one of these days I'm going to bust that guy's leg," Cece said, as she hurled a raisin at the car.

It soared through the air and landed across the street in a flower box. Elliot looked at her.

"Do you think my books are worthless?" Elliot asked.

"Oh for the love of all things tall! Did he say that to you?" Cece asked.

"No, he just said he didn't want his name on the book."

"Oh that little..." Cece's voice drifted off as she mumbled furiously. "Look at me El."

Elliot met Cece's gaze.

"That punk knows nothing. You're a good writer. Just because you're not writing the next Pride and Prejudice, does not mean that your books don't have worth."

Cece waved her hands around, sending out a spray of raisins.

"I mean seriously, how many people have bought and read your books? How many girls have come up to you expressing how much they love your work? Just because Beck believes he's above your novel, does not for one second mean it's worthless." Cece's face took on a fierce expression. "You understand what I'm saying?"

Elliot nodded.

"I do. Gosh! Why can't I have an alcohol problem, instead of this. At least then I would know how to deal with that!"

"You don't like alcohol."

"See! My problem would be solved before it even developed."

"You can't let this guy effect you so much, El. You're a good writer. That's all you need to know."

Elliot's face fell as she nodded.

"Yeah."

Footsteps echoed off the pavement as Milo walked down the sidewalk, his hands tucked into his pockets. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. A raisin bounced off his forehead.

"Hey good looking," Cece mocked. "What are you doing here?"

"Speed Monopoly Night, remember?" Milo said.

"Right," Cece said, sending another raisin flying towards the window.

Milo jogged up the steps and sat. He accepted a handful of raisins and started throwing.

"Is Tristan joining us?" Milo asked.

Both girls laughed.

"I'm not sure the word speed and Tristan have ever been in the same state, let alone the same sentence," Elliot said.

"He has rehearsal, anyways," Cece said.

Milo nodded.

"Tell me why we are throwing raisins at a car window?" Milo asked.

"Where is your sense of adventure? Or mischief?" Cece asked.

"You have no reason at all, got it. What is the bet?" Milo asked.

"Twenty to whoever gets the most in," Elliot said.

Milo grinned.

"Double it and you're on."

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

Sup?!

Do people really say? I imagine myself trying to say it and all I see is me ending up looking like a complete idiot. I guess cooler people can pull it off. Anyways, I have a question for you. Are you ready? Okay, here it is, what is your top five favorite emojis? I know a radical question, but it had to be asked. Mine are, 😄😉😳🤢🤤

Vote, comment, follow. Go through raisins at someones car. I'll take the blame.