Short stories

Doordash Boy

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Confirmation code has been sent to el*******@gmail.com, respond to 232-8972 with further delivery instructions.

To Doorsarehungry : 45039, key is under a stone cat, open door and come set it on the living room table.

Ellie didn't care that it wasn't safe. She was five seconds away from getting a fake identity and fleeing the country, so death by a random fifty-year-old food driver wouldn't be the worst thing. She groaned into her newest empty ice-cream container and wiped her tears with an already soaked sleeve. She heard a ding, assuming it was another confirmation she checked her phone, only to see another couple of messages of 'please give me a chance to explain' s and 'I love you' s and 'I'm sorry.' She simply cried harder taking no time at all to throw her phone into a pillow on the other side of the room.

She had found out her boyfriend was cheating on her only twelve hours ago and hadn't stopped crying since. It was a wonder she wasn't on my six-hundred-pound life show or had drowned in her own sea of tears. She had no more food around her and other than the water bottles she continuously chugged she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten like this. She had been watching her weight a couple of months after she and Grayson had gotten together. It had been almost a year since she had eaten a whole carton of ice cream by herself.     

"I'm gonna pretend this isn't the creepiest thing I've ever done. Ever." She heard a voice claim as the door opened.

She jumped for a second, the voice sounding all too close to her ex's which made her shoulders shake and her start crying a whole lot harder.

"Oh shit, there is a ghost." His voice lost the sweet rumbled and came out in a high pitch.

She obviously wasn't a ghost, but she was virtually invisible. A fluffy blanket was pulled all the way to her chin, and she was laying on the couch arm, so her face was slightly pressed into the cushion.

"You can just set it on the table." Her voice was horrifying. She hadn't spoken except to tell him to fuck off once (before she stopped answering his calls.) To any unsuspecting listener she could very well sound like a ghost, or witch, or both. The girly shriek he let out would've been enough to send her to the floor laughing about twelve hours ago.

"Holy fucking-" The boy had almost dropped the food in fright but managed to catch it mid fall.

"Sorry," She managed to say, cutting off the flow of tears to not look so incredibly pathetic. He was cute, way too cute for her to be dressed in a fancy dress with a cardigan thrown over it. mascara caked down her face and tissues full of snot thrown around her.

"Don't apologize, do maybe invest in some common sense? I could be a serial killer." He set the bag down, glancing over at her.

She looked up blandly, rubbing her eyes to try to fix them but only making them redder. "Are you?"

"No."

"Damnit." She mumbled out before groaning as she sat up, knowing her curls were horribly matted and her face was just shy of the shade of a tomato.

"You look like hell." He said bluntly, shoving a blanket off a chair and sitting down.

"Thanks, just got back. And yeah, make yourself at home." She said sarcastically waving her hand vaguely in his direction.

"Well, if you say so." He grinned, "I've been wanting to try Jimmy Fallon's ice cream."

Realizing how much she had already eaten, and already knowing it was going to go straight to her hips and thighs she suddenly was no longer sad enough to drown her emotions in frozen treats.

"Have at it." He looked up surprised, but his smile didn't fail. He reached into the bag, and she watched as he pulled out the different items before finally getting to the ice cream.

"So," He grabbed a spoon from the table, apparently not caring she had already eaten off of it and started eating her ice cream. "What happened in your hell?"

She whimpered, feeling another wave of sadness take over her.

"That bad huh? Want some ice cream?" He held out the carton, but she quickly shook her head, closing her hand around her stomach self-consciously. She was still in her date dress and hated now how tight it was showing everything she had gained tonight only.

"So let me guess, you can nod or not. I'm good at reading body language." She nodded so he finished his bite of ice cream. "You got stood up on a date," She raised her eyebrows, wiping her eyes again but shook her head. "Your boy space friend who you were secretly pining for got a girlfriend?" It almost got a laugh, but tears clouded her eyes at the word girlfriend. She shook them off.

"Hm..." he hummed to himself. "Your boyfriend broke up with you?" She winced and he frowned. "Yes, but not fully..."

"I caught him cheating. I broke up with him."

"Ah, shit." She waited for the sympathies, finally looking up at him to see him already watching her. "I was close."

She nodded, wiping her tears again. "Thanks..."

"Sean."

"Yes, Sean. So, thank you."

"Don't let anyone else into your house. It's dangerous." She nodded, getting up as he did. He set the ice cream on her table. "Eat it once you shower, it's good."

She nodded, knowing she would have to practically live at the gym for the month to work off everything that happened tonight so what was one more carton?

"Goodnight, Ellie."

She stood up, waving him bye as she walked up the stairs and into the shower. She couldn't have been in there long but after cleaning up and feeling a minuscule amount better, she walked back downstairs to realize everything was perfectly clean. Her blankets were folded neatly, and her wrappers were thrown away. She was more than surprised, her logical side showing a bit more after her stupid decisions of the night. Such as letting a stranger know where she kept her key, letting a random (but insanely attractive) man in her house, and spilling her heart out to said stranger. She glanced at her kitchen, noticing the ice-cream and a sticky note plus her phone placed beside those.

Dear miss heartbroken,

Your boyfriend is a douche bag, just by your record collection I can tell he lost someone amazing. Eat some ice cream and forget about him.
Don't invite any more strangers in your house.
678-346-9275 if you ever need a friend.

P.S. I put the key under the stone bunny instead.
P.P.S I don't care if your ex is as hot as Rob Lowe in The Outsiders, you are prettier.

From, A sad cocky loser