Elliot glared at her computer screen and the blank page on it, annoyed that it was not trembling before her and doing her bidding. Her mother's advice of starting something new floated through her head, but even her mind seemed stubborn to that idea, producing no new spark. The sound of tapping keys filled the office and only seemed to add to the annoyance that was mounting in her. The clock ticked on, taunting her by calling out each minute that passed by that not a single word came to her. The tapping stopped and Beck glanced up at Elliot.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"No," she said, not looking at him.

Beck stared at her a second longer, but didn't gain any eye contact for his efforts. Elliot continued her silent threatening of her computer, but still received a blank look in return. Beck eventually went back to writing, his gaze flickering up to her every so often.

Finally, he put his computer aside and leaned over his knees, his expression concerned.

"What's going on, Elliot?" he said.

She gave him no reply.

"El?"

His use of her nickname almost broke her resolve not to look at him, but she dug in her metaphorical heels and continued to stare at the computer.

"Is there a reason you are avoiding looking at me?" Beck asked.

"Yes. I don't feel like blurting something out and you just have one of those blurt-out-everything-in-your-head sort of faces."

"Would it help if I wore a paper bag?" he asked. "I haven't done that since elementary school but if it helps you, I will do it."

Elliot looked up at him.

"You wore a paper bag in elementary school too."

Beck smiled.

"Dang it!" she said, looking away.

"El, just tell me what's going on with you. Maybe I can help."

Elliot rubbed her face, trying to rid herself of her jumbled thoughts.

"Of course you can help."

"So then why aren't you letting me?"

"Because that's the problem."

"The problem is I can help you? I can see why you're avoiding it."

Lowering her hands, she scowled at him as he tried to hid his amusement at the conversation. They stared at each other, neither backing down. Elliot snapped her computer closed and tossed it on to the couch. Beck straightened, waiting. Grabbing her purse, Elliot stood.

"Where are we going?" he asked, shutting his computer and picking up his own satchel.

"I don't know!"

Beck made no comment and followed her out the door. Without thinking about it, she turned left out of the building and walked, Beck beside her. They moved through the city thoughtlessly, taking random turns, sometimes doubling back and other times, making circles. Through it all, they remained silent, Beck following Elliot's lead.

The city bustled on, ignoring Elliot and flaunting its sense of busyness. As the office grew further away, Elliot's annoyance began to lessen. When the parade of doubtful thoughts slowly exhausted itself out, she pulled her gaze up from the pavement and looked around. Beck looked at her, his list of speculations dying away at the calm look on her face.

"Come on," she said.

They abruptly stopped and spun around, back tracking. Beck said nothing, though a hundred new questions had popped into his mind. They made their way through the crowded streets, stopping before the store front of a Barnes and Noble. Elliot pushed the door open and stepped inside. A smile spread across her lips at the sight of shelves and shelves of books.

At the cafe readers were comfortably resting in chairs, reading newly purchased books while sipping coffee. The tops of heads moved through the store, disappearing from time to time as their owners bent down.

Elliot moved further in, zigzagging her way through rows of books, not seeming to care where she went. She trailed a finger over glossy covers, her eyes jumping from title to title, imagining the stories that lay beneath the covers from just the images captured on the front.

Slowly, she found her way to the YA section and stopped at her own book. She slid her hand away from the shelf, not touching it, only staring at it. Beck reached out and took the book off the shelf, flipping open the front cover and silently reading. Elliot watched him, trying to gauge his reaction. Trying to read his thoughts as he scanned over the words she had written. He turned to the back cover, looking over the picture of Elliot and her bio.

"I hate that picture," she said.

Beck look up at her.

"How come?" he asked.

She shrugged and leaned her back against the bookcase.

"I don't know. I look stupid and way too young."

"Of course you look young, you were sixteen."

"Still."

She stared at the picture of herself, remembering the nervousness she had felt when the picture had been taken, knowing it would be seen by hundreds of people; not knowing that in reality, it would be millions of people. Beck closed the book and replaced it on the shelf. Elliot leaned her head back.

"I remember living in places like this," she said, "libraries, bookstores, anywhere that held different worlds. I lived in books. I remember reading Little Woman in third grade. By the time I hit high school, I had read every classic out there and was searching for more. It was an easy step from reading to writing, my head was full to bursting with stories. Now, it just seems blank."

She sighed and looked around the store, as if the inspiration was peeking at her from around a corner.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Beck asked.

She dropped her gaze to the floor, scuffing her shoe on the speckled gray carpet.

"Only if I look at you," she said.

"You said I could help, so let me help."

Elliot rubbed her forehead, making a face.

"Honestly, I don't know if you can," she said. "You've never dealt with doubt or feeling inferior."

Beck laughed, startling Elliot. Her attention snapped to him, her expression a mix of surprise and puzzlement.

"El, what makes you think I don't understand that?" he said, still half smiling.

"I don't know. You're an amazing writer. You're going to college. You can do anything. I don't see how you could ever doubt yourself or feel inferior."

Beck crossed his arms and rested his shoulder on the bookshelf, staring at her with searching blue eyes.

"This is the second time you have brought college into a conversation. What is it about college that you find gives people leverage over you?"

Elliot dropped her gaze, studying the floor with unwarranted concentration. She gave a half hearted shrug.

"I don't know," she said. She looked at him and shrugged again, as if wishing it would make the intensity in his gaze lessen. "I don't know, it's my fatal flaw I guess. The red mark on my record. I didn't go to college. It's a miracle I've made it this far without an education."

Beck's forehead creased as the intensity in his look deepened.

"Is that what you believe or what you've been told?"

Elliot found she couldn't hold his gaze and looked away.

"Does it matter?" she said. "The results are the same. I didn't go to college and so my books don't deserve real respect."

"El, what is making you say that? Of course your books deserve respect."

Elliot look at him, wearing a mocking expression.

"Oh really?" she said. "Because the first time we met you tore my books to shreds without a thought about respect."

It was Beck's time to drop his gaze, shame washing over him. When he looked back up, his manner was earnest.

"El, I'm truly sorry for the way I acted that first meeting," he said.

Elliot raised her eyebrows, surprised by the note of sincerity in his voice.

"I was out of line. I'm sorry," he said.

They stared at each other for a long moment then Elliot shrugged carelessly.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "You were right. My books are formulaic jokes. My writing is a joke."

"That's not true."

"Says the guy who broke down my books and pointed out all the same patterns I had through out them."

"Okay, you had aspects of characters and locations that you felt comfortable with, but that's not the same with this new book."

Elliot looked around the rows of books, finding solace in the familiar sight. Letting out a sigh, she dropped her head.

"I know that, but who cares? It's a stupid story written by someone who doesn't know what they are doing."

"El, where is this coming from? You don't honestly believe this, do you?"

Elliot looked at him, pain and anger battling in her eyes.

"Why wouldn't I? I'm a joke because I never did the right thing. High school, college then a job. I skipped the middle step somehow and went straight to a job. My books could never mean anything because they were the work of a high schooler."

Beck held up his hands, confusion flashing across his face.

"Who said that had to be the way of things?" he said.

"The entire world Beck, that's who!" Elliot said in a hushed shout.

"There are famous writers who never went to college. Ray Bradbury, Truman Capote, Jane Austen, The Brontë sisters, Mark Twain to name a few. They did as you did, why do you feel the need to beat yourself up if others have done the same thing?"

Elliot tossed her arms up in exasperation.

"I don't know. You think I enjoy beating myself? I could do with less bruises."

Beck shifted forward, his expression intent.

"From where I am, it looks like you found your career without the unnecessary hassle of trying to find it through college. Why don't you accept that for a good thing?"

Elliot turned to him, staring him down with a look of condescending annoyance.

"Because how can it really be a stable career if I don't have the right knowledge backing it?"

"El, you have sold millions of books. When does that start meaning something to you?"

"When it means something to my family!"

Elliot's face went stiff with shock, her eyes wide. Beck frowned in confusion.

"Tristan and Cece support you..." Understanding filled his eyes. "Oh, you don't mean them." He shifted, dropping his gaze. "You're talking about your other family members."

A look of deep sadness entered Elliot's eyes and her expression fell. She sank onto the floor, staring at her clasped hands. Beck settled down beside her, their shoulders touching. They sat there in silence, Elliot's words still ringing in their ears.

"I'm a joke to them," she said, her voice hallow. She stared at the opposite bookshelf, her hands fidgeting with each other. "Austin sent me a picture of my first book when he saw it in the store. He made some comment about how the name of the author looked familiar."

Elliot swallowed hard.

"I didn't even admit it was my book. I was embarrassed to admit it. When my second book came out, they of course knew it was me by then." She let out a sigh, her eyes glazed over as if in her mind she was reliving the moment. "I got a text saying he was so proud I had written another book, even with my lack of a degree. They went to college and have successful careers. In their mind, my success doesn't really count. It's a fluke."

A small amount of tension, that had lived inside Elliot's chest for the last couple years, lifted as the last words slipped off her lips. Pulling herself from her thoughts, she looked over at Beck, meeting his understanding blue eyes.

"I've written four books and that was the only acknowledgement I got."

She rested her head back. Beck opened his mouth, but she spoke before he could.

"It's okay, Beck," she said. "There is nothing to say. That's life. You eventually move past it."

Beck shifted to face her, his expression serious.

"But you haven't," he said. "El, their words are holding you back from seeing the true talent that you have." She looked at him and he held up his hand, stopping her protest. "Go ahead and deny it, but their words are the reason you still joke and mock your own work. This problem doesn't lie on their end. It lies on yours."

"But they-"

"People don't change. You could write a million books and he wouldn't get it. That is the way of humans. What you can change is how you see yourself and how you view your writing. El, you have talent. You also have an education, just not the one he would understand."

Elliot frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

Beck waved his arm about, looking out to the endless sight of books.

"Books, El. That's where you got your education. It wasn't from some professor in some classroom. No matter what you think, you do have an education. Whether you choose to see it is your choice. But it's only when you decide to open your eyes to this fact that their words won't mean anything to you."

Elliot stared at Beck for a long time, letting what he said bubble and seep into her mind.

"Do you honestly believe I have talent?"

"Yes. I do."

She nodded, sitting in the feeling of his words and the warmth they filled her with. After a moment, she shifted, sitting cross legged before him, and gave him a half smile.

"Why is it I find myself talking to you about this stuff?"

Beck shrugged and smiled.

"I have a different perspective from your family. I'm far enough away to see things they might be too close to see. I don't know, I also have a face that makes you blurt everything out."

Elliot laughed, the troubled emotions of the day escaping with the sound. When she settled back, she shifted, a look of curiosity slipping onto her face. Beck chuckled.

"Your face really is the easiest thing to read," he said.

"So what am I thinking, oh wise and pompous one?"

"You've come back to the fact that I admitted to having doubts and feeling inferior."

Elliot stared at him with wide eyes.

"That is weird," she said. "I guess we can add telepathy to your list of accomplishments."

Beck smirked.

"I just know you well enough by now to know what that look meant."

"It was that specific?"

"It was a toss up between that and why are donuts not part of the food group."

"Wow! You do know me."

Beck laughed, making Elliot smile.

"So are you going to lessen my curiosity?" she asked.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked away, unable to look at her. Elliot rested her chin in her hand, staring at Beck's profile intently.

"Is that a no?" she asked.

He dropped his gaze to the floor then looked up at her. After a pause of hesitation, he spoke.

"Well, I feel inferior to my brother for being so successful and knowing exactly what he wants to do in life," he said. "I'm still torn on what I want to do." He cleared his throat and shifted. "And then...uh...meeting you, El." He shifted again, his eyes darting away from her. "That's when I doubted myself."

Elliot frowned in surprise.

"What? Why?"

Dropping his head, Beck gave a wry chuckle, seeming to find his own thoughts amusing. He let out a low breath and raised his head.

"You are my age and you already have four books published. You were the thing that brought my failure to light. I always made excuses why I couldn't ever write or get my books published and here you are, someone out of high school already published." He ran a hand over his face then shrugged. "So you see, I am human."

Elliot nodded slowly, taking in his words.

"Well," she said, "if it makes you feel any better, you read my first book and so you know it wasn't the most astounding book out there."

He shook his head, giving her a mocking frown.

"Actually," he said, "that doesn't make me feel any better."

She smiled, which he was quick to mirror.

"I tried to cheer you up," she said.

"And failed."

Elliot shrugged and made a flippant gesture.

"You want to get coffee?" she asked.

"The office or here?"

"Here is fine."

Beck's lips curved into a teasing smile.

"The coffee maker still mad at you?"

"Are you refusing the offer?"

He stood and held out his hands for her. She grasped his and he pulled her up. Their hands dropped away and he nodded to the cafe.

"Let's get coffee."

Elliot began to walk but stopped and looked at him. He met her gaze with a hint of a smile.

"Thank you," she said. A grin blossomed on her face, the sight pulling one from Beck. "I'm glad I decided not to strangle you with your bow tie the first day we met."

"Me too," he said. "It was my favorite bowtie."

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

Horchata! (Because it's delicious!)

Okay I have an interesting question for you. What is one fashion trend that even if it went out of style you would still wear?

For me, it's short pants (because I like my ankles. Odd. I know!) skinny jeans (though I really don't see those going out of fashion ever) and vans shoes! (because they are classic and I love them!)

Vote, comment, and follow the fashion of the future! (Yeah I have no idea what it means either. I felt inspired.)