Six Things Before Breakfast

5

When Sanders goes for a run, he likes to be alone.

And it's bad enough that Maxon took his shower time. Now he wants to run with him.

"My early training's every MWF," he says brightly, jogging alongside him. "So I can run with you every TTH. But let's keep our shower arrangement, I think that works for everyone."

Sanders doesn't give him a response. He keeps running.

Maxon matches his pace. He's not fazed by Sanders's aloofness—he's still smiling. "So. Rush. Why aren't you and Cal together?"

Gee, Sanders thinks. I have no idea.

"She's cute. Smart. Hardworking. Oh, man." He laughs loudly. "You can't believe how hardworking she was. She was so conscious of her grades and shit, she always forgot to eat. But she was sleeping in class all the time."

Sanders has had enough of their high school memories. He jogs faster.

Maxon catches up with him, chuckling. "I didn't know she was in Bellevue because she didn't tell me. I always thought she'd go for a prestigious university or some shit, she was smart enough to get in. It would've been nice if I knew, though—"

"Dude." Sanders stops. He pulls his hood down and faces him. A muscle in his jaw ticks. "You have a girlfriend."

Maxon blinks. "Yeah, and I'm very much in love with that girlfriend. Don't see how that's related to Cal."

He's clueless. He's fucking clueless.

Sanders sighs. Pulls his hood up again. "Never mind."

"Okay..." Maxon is still confused, but he lets it go nonetheless. "Oh, why don't we all go out and watch a movie tonight? I can buy tickets. It'd be good to see my roommates outside of our, you know, room. House. Whatever."

"Sure," Sanders mutters. His running slows when he sees the convenience store. "Whatever. Listen. Go on ahead. I have to stop by somewhere."

"Okay!" Maxon says. He waves at him. "See you later, bro!"

Sanders gives Becks her almond milk. Tells her he loves her, but it doesn't sound the same.

It sounds like a rotten fruit ready to burst. Mess everywhere. Drowning in a deep ocean with no wetsuit, or snorkel, or mask. Falling headfirst out of a helicopter with no parachute. That's a great way to die, actually. Plummeting down to the clouds, going where the wind takes you, falling asleep in the sky.

It sounds like being terrified.

*

Sanders has a Google Sheet.

Fine. He will admit it. He has a Google Sheet with every little thing related to Becks. It's vital information. It's crucial information—he's updated it every time he learns something new, something odd, something terrible or beautiful. His memory will fail him if he doesn't write it down.

Becks knows about this. She scrunched her nose when she found out and said, "Why do you have Google Sheet about me? Why am I not surprised?"

There's information about her family members (just their names and ages and profession), school history, favorites, fears, pet peeves, likes, dislikes, and extensive paragraphs about all the times she cried and all the times Sanders wiped her tears so that there would be no repeat. Ever.

There's also the specific food she orders from each of the restaurants near their campus so Sanders doesn't have to ask.

So Sanders knows a lot of things about Becks.