And Then There Were Five

Pity Party for Two

WILEY

What the hell happened to me?

Things looked promising for me transferring to Duke back in April to prep for summer training, and yet, May and June passed without a single call. I'm not even sure if I got into the school in term of my academics. Any aspect of those dream seemed to reside in a ghost town.

Thankfully, I never tried to push away the few friends I made here at Earhart. Despite feeling like a royal dumbass right now, imagine the crap I'd get for distancing myself only to come crawling back. I certainly wouldn't be able to forgive myself. I'm barely able to understand how Archer of all people is starting to gain more of a social life than I am. He pledged KA at the end of fraternity rush, despite Jagger and his PIKE buddies nearly pulling him into their corner. 

Before I can further reflect on my personal disappointments, I pull out my phone and scroll through the group chat. Archer hasn't turned off his location, and neither has Kamya. But Valencia, Elinor, Jagger are all up for grabs, I suppose. I dial Jagger first, but the line goes straight to his voicemail. Bastard. I text Valencia next, but she quickly informs me that she has a paper to finish, which I should've realized she procrastinated on.

Which leaves me one last option. The line rings for about five beats or so, and just before I decide to hang up, I hear Elinor's voice chime in.

"Well isn't this a nice surprise," she says in a manner that sounds like she just woke up from a nap. "Figured you'd be in the gym with your boys right about now."

"Not today, thankfully," I say back. "My calves are sore as hell."

"So what brought you here to this phone call, Wiley?" she asks, both charmingly and awkwardly. 

"Boredom, mostly," I confess. "Most of the group is busy, but I don't want dinner alone. I was hoping you could get out and grab dinner with me or something."

There's a brief pause before Elinor comes back on. "Got the green light from my parents. You're on. Just, please, can we not eat at the Greenhouse? I'm craving a burger that doesn't taste like it's been sitting out for two hours."

"Done. Want me to pick you up?"

"No," she almost shouts through the phone. "Sorry, I mean...no, it's fine. I can drive to you. Or we can meet there. Whatever is easiest."

An uncomfortable chuckle falls out of me. "You know where my new dorm is, right?"

"West side of campus, yeah?"

"That's the one," I reply with a hidden smile, if not because she's coming, then at least because I know I'm about to eat like a king. "I'll take us to Freddie's from there." 

+++

The first thing I noticed about her when she got into my car was that she evened out the purple in her hair. It's still violet, but it isn't as choppy as before. It definitely suits her. The second thing I noticed was her choice of footwear.

"It's the heat of summer," I say, despite having already hashed out this conversation. "And instead of a pair of Chacos or flip flops, you put on Doc Martins."

"Well, you certainly don't pass the vibe check," she mumbles under her breath just loud enough for me to hear. 

We banter on until we park out in front of the restaurant. She purposely shuts her passenger side door a little harder than I'd like her too, and then, she skips past me and through the front doors of Freddie's without a care in the world. By the time I enter in after her, she's already at the counter listing out her order. I barely get my wallet out in time before she attempts to hand the guy behind the counter her debit card. "You relieved me from a night alone. I'm paying."

"I didn't know this was a date," Elinor claps back, hoping to fluster me enough to keep me from handing the man my money. But the guy catches my annoyance and refuses to take her card. We both have a laugh, and after the guy hands her a drink cup, Elinor saunters off to fill it up with pink lemonade. 

"Is everything in your life full of color?" I ask her after I order my own food and get a cup of Dr. Pepper. 

Elinor almost doesn't hear me over her incessant ice-crunching, but eventually replies, "Of course. You think I'm a black and white kind of girl."

"Well I'm black," I joke. "And you're about as white as they come--"

"Shut up, Wiley," she drawls, rolling her eyes. "Just for that atrocious attempt at humor, do you want to tell me the real reason why you called me up? And not just because I was the last option."

Sometimes I forget the Elinor is one of the smartest, if not the smartest, among the six of us. She isn't even a psych major, and that's what scares me. She can read people like a book and not give a damn about exploiting what kind of story they each are telling, to others and themselves.

So I figure there's no use in lying. "Feeling sorry for myself."

The guy behind the counter from earlier politely interrupts to set our food down in front of us, and while I thought I was ordering a lot of food, Elinor definitely surprises me. Two orders of fries, a double-patty cheeseburger, and a chocolate milkshake to compliment her lemonade. She says a squeaky sort of thank you to the worker with a sissy sorority girl wave goodbye, and then turns back to face me long enough to pick up her burger and take a giant bite. "So," she continues, food still unapologetically in her mouth. "Why were you having a pity party, and where was my invite?"

I portion out my food to make room for my side of ketchup. "Just sore about some things."

"Not just your calves?" she asks, studying me for a moment.

"No," I admit. The first bite of my burger is heaven itself, and while I wait for Elinor to ask me more questions, she doesn't push. "Man, I'm going to regret this tomorrow morning."

"That's right," she notes, recalling something in the back of her brain. "You train Monday mornings...and nearly every other weekday. Geez, you'd think you'd get to sleep in just once--"

"Never," I laugh.

We talk here and there as the two of us keep plowing through our food until I feel full enough and Elinor looks like she's going to pass out on her side of the booth. Hell, she may even be sweating. "You good there?"

She waves a hand at me, shutting her eyes. "Do I need to be ladylike?"

Interested in where this is heading I shake my head.

And Elinor promptly rips out the fiercest burp I've ever heard out of a girl.

The sound is the absolute last thing I expected out of her, so much so that I begin uncontrollably laughing. Elinor is right behind me, if not because she's proud of herself, then because she didn't expect it either. "Ah, God, that hurt," she jokes, putting a hand to the middle of her chest as if she had just taken a punch there.

"You're something else, Elie," I find myself staying with a childish grin, even though I've never called her that before. And though I anticipate a witty comeback of some sort, I'm instead greeted by a smirk of her own. Closed-mouthed, highlighting her one dimple, and her medium-toned eyes glimmer in the diner light.

"This has been really fun, Wiley. I haven't gotten a night out with anyone since the end of my senior year of high school," Elinor almost whispers. 

The feeling is mutual. But as for the lack of social interaction..."Strict parents?" I ask.

She shakes her head, and says the one thing I never would have predicted she'd respond.