Elliot opened her eyes, her mind buzzing with words, descriptions of scenes and bits of dialogue. The light peering in through the windows was faint and the room still held the darkness of early morning. The house was still. Cece was lost in her computer and Tristan was dead to the world. Elliot tossed aside her blankets and rushed to get ready.

Showered and clothed, in the first outfit she pulled out, she descended the staircase. As she moved to the front door, the sound of rustling blankets made her pause. She waited and listened, one hand outstretched towards the door knob. The noise came again and she moved to the living room. Looking over the back of the couch, she found Milo passed out on it, fully clothed, a blanket draped over his stomach and legs, his head turned towards her. He shifted and Elliot laid her crossed arms on the top of the couch, resting her chin on them.

"You should get a life," she said.

Milo shifted again, facing the back of the couch.

"You don't think I know this," he muttered, his eyes still closed. "I tried. Your sister has ruined me...I hate her."

The corner of Elliot's mouth quirked up.

"You have an odd way of showing hate. You're sleeping on the couch, waiting to see her and you're dating her."

Milo turned again, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Go away and leave me in peace with my misery."

"Alright, whatever you say Romeo."

"I would reply with a Shakespeare quote," he yawned, "but I'm too tired."

"Then I claim the same excuse for my lack of a Shakespeare quote in reply."

"Then we are both in agreement," he said, his eyes still closed and his breathing slowing, "we could produce Shakespearian quotes at the drop of a hat."

"Of course," Elliot said. "Lucky for us, there were no hats dropped this morning."

She stood and took a step back.

"Bye my lifeless friend," she said.

Milo settled deeper into his pillow.

"I blame you...for not killing me...before this happened," he said, his words slightly slurred.

"I will take that blame."

Milo had fallen under the spell of sleep once more by the time Elliot pulled open the door. Street lights winked off as Elliot made her way towards the office. Birds called out noisily, boasting of their early rise and accomplishment of worms gotten.

The emptiness of the office welcomed Elliot as she opened the door. The sky was beginning to lighten, the deep blue giving way to a lighter shade. She moved about making coffee and settling in, as characters talked back and forth with each other, their voices ringing in the quiet.

With her legs crossed and the computer perched on top, she went to work. The silence in the office was kicked out the door by the sound of typing and softly spoken words as she went looking for the right one.

Three coffee refills and two thousand words later, the door to the office opened. Beck paused in the doorway, staring at the sight of Elliot writing away, glasses slipping to the end of her nose.

Without a word of greeting, he entered and closed the door. His presence had no affect on her, her mind lost to another world. He kept glancing at her as he grabbed coffee and settled on the couch opposite her. It wasn't until the sound of his own typing joined hers, that Elliot realized another living soul was in the room.

She looked up, blinking herself back into the reality of the office. Beck watched her, the corner of his lips curling upward.

"Beck," she said.

"Hi," he said. "How long have you been here?"

She ran a hand through her tangled hair, realizing she had forgotten to brush it in her haste. She looked back at her coffee cup.

"Three coffee cups ago," she said, pulling out a rubber band and tying her hair back. "So I think around five. What time is it now?"

Beck glanced at his watch.

"Seven," he said.

"Really? I feel like an entire day has past."

Beck smiled and nodded to the computer.

"How is it going?" he said.

Elliot looked down, as if trying to remember what he was referring to.

"Um...good," she said.

She looked back up at him and shifted, her gaze bouncing from the computer to Beck. Her expression ran through a myriad of emotions as her thoughts ping-ponged back n forth. Beck pulled one foot up and rested it on his knee, waiting expectantly. Finally, Elliot's face settled.

"Beck-"

"Sure," he said.

She scowled and crossed her arms.

"You have no idea-"

"You want me to read what you have so far and tell you what I think."

Elliot frowned.

"Well, this is just ridiculous. What's the point of talking anymore?"

"I don't know but I highly doubt you could physically stop yourself."

"I did once to win a bet."

"How long did you go?"

"Five-"

"Days?"

"Minutes," she said. "It was the longest hour of my life."

Beck laughed, the sound making Elliot smile. He leaned forward, his hand out stretched. She lifted her computer, but hesitated, a flicker of doubt flashing through her expression.

"El, do you trust me?" he asked.

After a heartbeat of a pause, she nodded and handed him the computer. He settled back on the couch, the computer on his lap. Resting one elbow on the arm rest, he settled a hand on his chin, his eyes darting over the screen.

"There might be spelling mistakes," she said.

Beck nodded, but didn't look at her.

"I also tend to drop out words because I'm writing too fast."

No reply.

"Also, I didn't really find my rhythm until the second paragraph, so-"

Beck raised his eyes to her, forcing her to swallow her remaining words.

"Do you want me to read this?" he asked.

She nodded and he dropped his gaze again. The seconds ticked by as she stared at him intently, her hands finding endless ways to fidget with each other. Through out the whole time, Beck's face didn't change.

After an eternity in Elliot's mind, he looked at her.

"Gosh I wish your face was easier to read!" she said.

He gave her a half smile.

"It's annoying how it doesn't move at all! I hate it!"

He shifted back, pulling himself fully from the narrative.

"Really?" he said, trying to hide a smirk. "You thought it was attractive at one point."

"It still is but I hate the fact that I've had more success reading a ninja's face than your's."

"A friend of Tristan's?"

"No, Milo's. A quiet guy and a wiz in the kitchen. I liked him."

"Do you want hear my thoughts or do you want to stall for a bit longer?"

"Give me a second to answer that."

"El."

She forced herself to met his gaze. She took a shaking breath and nodded. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off, pointing at him.

"Just know that I know where you live and have a guy named Randolph."

Beck raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, you can go on," she said. "Of course now your face talks."

Beck looked at her and Elliot sank back into the couch. After a moment, where she forced her frantic thoughts into submission, Beck spoke.

"It was good," he said.

She stared at him with wide eyes, the words melting into the walls, but still managing to ring in her ears.

"It's good?" she asked.

He gave a single nod. The gesture seemed to double the joyous feeling that exploded inside of her chest after the shock had subsided.

"You really thought that?" she said.

He repeated the gesture.

"I mean you were reading what I wrote? You didn't somehow pull up your own work or something?"

He was silent and simply looked at her.

"And you understand what the word good means?" she said. "Well, of course you do, you're a walking dictionary. But seriously, you understand all that you are saying by using the word 'good' to describe what you just read?"

"I'm starting to see how that five minutes could have felt like an hour," he said. "I think I'm experiencing it right now."

Elliot laughed and buried her face in her hands. Beck took the computer and set it on the coffee table between them. She looked up, her excitement bottled up and sitting in her stomach, sending out a warm feeling every time she thought of his words.

"Thank you," she said.

"It was deserved."

They looked at each other then Beck shifted, Elliot's hazel eyes seeming to bring color to his cheeks.

"Do you want to get back to work?" he asked.

"Heck yes I do!" she said. "I can't let this good work go to waste!"

He laughed, and picked up his computer, finding cover behind the screen.

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

The world was enjoying it's freedom from the bonds of work, when the door to the office opened and Nina stepped in, holding a black, leather portfolio. Elliot looked up, peering at her publicist from behind her glasses. The room quieted, as Beck stopped writing, suddenly aware of the new presence.

"Did we have a meeting planned?" Elliot asked.

Nina smiled.

"Yes. I texted you a few days ago. It will be quick. You still have a minute for it?"

"Uh...yeah...sure..."

Elliot saved her work and closed the computer, sliding it onto the coffee table. Beck glanced between Elliot and Nina, uncertain. Elliot looked at him and gestured to Nina.

"Beck, you remember my publicist, Nina?" she said.

Beck stood and shook Nina's hand.

"Of course," he said. "It's nice to see you again."

"Likewise. And still unscarred. That's always a plus."

Elliot scoffed.

"A miracle, I know," she said. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

Nina took a seat on the couch beside Elliot, resting the portfolio on her lap. Beck shifted and coughed into his hand.

"I can step outside for a minute if you need space," he said.

Nina waved him to sit back down with a friendly smile.

"Stay, this involves you too, to some degree," she said.

Elliot raised her eyebrows.

"Now, I'm intrigued."

"Elliot, I told you why I was coming over," Nina said.

"And I totally don't remember why."

Nina let out a sigh, but didn't seem that surprised by the statement.

"I'm here to talk to you about the cover of the book," she said.

Elliot nodded, but looked puzzled. Nina raised a hand, halting the questions she knew were forming on Elliot's tongue.

"I know it is very early for this, but the photographer you like is going to be out of the country in two months time. I thought it best to talk over details now so we don't lose him, and you aren't wrapped up in the wedding."

Elliot nodded.

"Okay," she said.

"So, I had a couple rough sketches made of what we had talked about for the cover."

Nina opened the portfolio and took out the top sheet. On it was a rough outline of a boy and a girl, their hands clasped. At the bottom was Elliot's name and below it was Beck's. Nina held up the page, giving Beck a view of it as well. Elliot's gaze landed on Beck's name and she turned her attention to him. He was looking at the paper, his face unreadable.

"Nina," Elliot said. "I forgot to tell you, but Beck doesn't want his name to be-"

"It looks good," Beck said.

Elliot turned to him slowly, as if she wasn't quite sure she had heard him correctly. He met her gaze with a steady look.

"You like it?" she asked, pointing to the paper and more specifically, his name.

He nodded. Elliot just stared at him, still not fully able to grasp the meaning behind his words. Beck grinned.

"Though, I always imagined my name above yours," he said. "Alphabetical order and all that."

Nina chuckled and Beck's persistent grin broke Elliot from her astonished daze. She laughed and turned her attention back to Nina.

After half an hour of debating over the best look for the book, Nina left. When the door shut behind her, Elliot looked at Beck. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"You want to call it a day and get coffee?" she asked.

Beck smiled and nodded. With a quick rush to get the office neat, they left. They didn't talk as they joined the world and headed to the cafe, simply finding comfort in the other's presence.

They were halfway through the Common, when Elliot stopped abruptly, putting one hand on Beck's arm. He glanced down at it and back at her. But she didn't look at him, her attention focused on a group of twelve guys further down the lawn standing in two rows. Beck looked over, his face expressing his confusion. The group of men were throwing frisbees between them, all wearing concentrated looks.

"They're back," Elliot breathed out.

Beck looked at her.

"Why does it not surprise me that you would be excited to see a group of guys training for frisbee football?"

"Because you understand me," she said. "Come on."

Gripping Beck's arm, she hurried up the slop of the lawn across from the group. She sat down, crossing her legs and resting her hands in her lap. A smile slipped onto her lips as she stared intently at the group. Beck took the spot beside her, laying his arms across his knees.

"Ten bucks says none of them catch the frisbee in the next hour," she said.

Beck turned his head to her.

"You plan on staying here for an hour?" he asked.

Elliot shrugged.

"All that awaits for me at home is Milo with Cece or Milo without Cece. Neither are all that great."

"What happened to coffee?" Beck asked.

"Oh, right?"

Elliot pulled out her phone and called Milo.

"Are you working?" she asked, skipping over a greeting.

"No, I worked this morning," he said.

"Is Cece still in her room?"

"Yes," Milo said, the word sounding sad.

"I have something that will cheer you up. The boys are back. Bring coffee and cash."

"Finally! I'm on my way."

Milo hung up and Elliot tucked her phone away.

"Milo is on the way with coffee," she said.

Beck stared at her with an amused glint in his eyes. Elliot looked at him, her lips curling.

"How did the betting start?" he asked.

Her smile shifted to something distant and quiet.

"With my mom," she said. "We didn't do a lot of candy growing up but everyday, when we got in the car, we would guess what the temperature would be. Whoever got the closest, got a jellybean. It morphed from there. As we grew up, the prizes became different things and items people owned or dishes. Dishes was a huge source of revenue, because no one ever wanted to do them. Once Cece lost a bet with Tristan and she had to do his dishes for a month."

Elliot laughed, the memories flooding her mind. Beck smiled, but for more reasons than just the amusement of the story.

"I was pretty good at most bets. The worst I ever got was two weeks of dishes. It was against Seth."

The laughter fell from Elliot's face and she dropped her gaze, staring at the grass. She forced herself to look back up, but didn't look at Beck.

"So that's how it all came about," she said. "It was a way of amusing ourselves and making games out of stuff. Now, it's an addiction that will eventually tear us all apart unless we seek professional help."

She smiled at Beck and he returned the gesture, but his eyes held a studying look.

"Do you ever miss those times?" he asked.

"When we were a family? Of course not, what normal person would?"

Elliot dropped her gaze away and pulled at a cluster of grass.

"Of course, I do. But those times are gone and life moves on."

Beck nodded. She looked at him, wondering if he would pry further.

"I think the guy in the pink shirt has the greatest chance of catching it," he said.

Elliot raised an eyebrow.

"You prepared to put your money where your mouth is?" she asked.

"Ten bucks?"

Elliot stretched out a hand and Beck shook it. He held her gaze for a long moment. Their hands fell apart and they looked back at the practicing group of guys.

"You should know in all the years I have watched these guys, they have never once caught the frisbee."

"I have hope it might change then."

"And I will glory in my new found riches of ten dollars."

Beck chuckled as they continued their study of the group. Each guy performed his toss with such a look of determined concentration it seemed that the other player would catch it; but still not a single frisbee was caught.

"Beck..."

He looked at her, but she continued to stare straight ahead. Following her lead, he turned his head away.

"Are you serious about having your name on the book?" she asked.

"I am," he said. "I would be honored to have my writing next to yours."

Elliot shifted her focus to him, trying to read his face, looking for hints of doubt or flattery. When she found none, she smiled and turned away.

"Good, because it would be the highlight of my career to have my name above yours. That way when you write your own great American novel, I can be smug with everyone I meet."

"Aren't you anyways?"

She shrugged.

"Yeah, just now I would have grounds for being smug."

Beck smiled. Milo entered the Common and made his way towards them, a tray of coffee cups and a bag of pastries in hand.

"Alright," he said, settling in beside Elliot. "Who do we think will throw the first punch? And who will be hit in the nuts? Ten bucks it's the guy in the pink shirt."

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

Salsa!! (Now I feel like dancing while eating chips! 💃🏻)

Alrighty! For today we are talking about the wonderful things in your life! The random things that make you laugh and smile for no reason!

Mine are:

Looking up guy's style on Pinterest! (They just look so hot!)

Grant Gustin taking pictures with his dogs!

My sister dancing! (She usually does it in a really dorky way.)

Cat videos!

My brother talking in any sort of accent!

So tell me what makes you smile!

Smile, laugh, tag along!