The Runaway

Chapter Ten

It was like waiting for snow in August.  I stared at my phone precisely every three minutes, waiting for the screen to light up with Max’s name and vibrate in glory.  A day had passed since I had seen him at the game, and already, I was restless.  I hated the way that he was consuming my every thought, but our make out session had escalated my emotions and I wanted more.  Making out was fun. 

         Meanwhile, I was busy typing out a draft of my Yankees article, even though it was a Sunday.  I was trying so hard not to be biased, but I had a difficult time refraining myself from completely demolishing the Yankees and their fans.  That was not the best way to keep readers, and I didn’t want thousands of people sending me hate mail.  The only thing that I knew I had to admit was that I was a Red Sox fan.  I wasn’t going to hide that fact, yet for the rest of the article, I knew I would be positive.

         As I was typing away on my MacBook, Carson appeared from his room.  “Hey Stella.”

         “Good morning.  There’s some coffee in the pot.”

         “Thanks.” He said, running his fingers through his hair.  He looked restless.        

         “What’s up Carson?  You look anxious.”

         Carson looked up at me, wide-eyed.  “Nothing, just tired is all.  I’m sure I’ll be fine once I have my coffee.” He quickly poured himself a cup and walked out the door without saying another word.  That was weird, I thought to myself.  I shrugged and got back to work. 

         While I was typing about crazed Yankees fans, Elliot came out of his room, wearing a navy wifebeater and plaid boxer shorts.  His hair was a mess, yet in a sexy kind of way.  I felt my face warm up at the sight of him.  What was my deal?

         “Mornin’ Finn.” He waved, much more chipper than he had been at the game.

         “Hey Elliot.” I responded, then caught a glimpse of the tall, slender woman with shoulder-length auburn hair come out of his room.  I shook my head, knowing that the woman was why he was in a better mood.

          I continued typing, yet I couldn’t help but glance at Elliot and the woman as he asked her what she wanted for breakfast.  This was new, since usually the women left before they could even say goodbye.  The woman hopped onto the island, showing off her long, tan legs in her booty shorts.  Elliot smiled slyly at her and leaned in for a kiss.  Ugh, did they have to do this in front of me?  I stared back at the computer screen but had lost all train of thought as to what I had been writing about.  The women ran her hands through Elliot’s mess of hair, straightening it out.  No, don’t do that.  I thought, then kicked myself.  Why was I thinking of Elliot in this way?  He was a total asshole and player, and what he did to women was unacceptable.  Finally, I got up and went to my room, because I knew that I would be able to focus without Elliot in my sight. 

         That night, after spending the entire day working on the article, I was finished and mentally drained.  I emerged from my bedroom to find Elliot on the couch by himself, flipping through channels.  I plopped down next to him, and we sat in silence for a minute.

         “So you let this one stay for breakfast, huh?  Big step.”

         Elliot rolled his eyes.  “All right, let it out Finn.”        

         “What?  That’s all I was going to say.”

         “Yeah right, tell me how you really feel.”