Hello Dearest Stranger

Chapter One- "H"

Alright, I know lots of people like to say that I have bad luck, but I think the universe has cursed me. Standing maybe five feet in front of me is Max freaking Miller.

Well, 'freaking' isn't part of his name. And the bad part about my situation isn't that he's standing in front of me. It's not that I'm wearing a dirty pullover with tomato stains either. I mean, maybe it's that. I really should wash my clothes... No, the problem here is that we're in a Chick-Fil-A, and I'm next in line and that Max looks so incredibly amazing today. He always does. And, now I get to talk to him because he's about to take my order. Now, I'm not trying to throw shade on Chick-Fil-A, not at all, I really love their chicken nuggets, but the fact that they donate thousands of dollars to anti-LGBTQ+ organizations irks me. Homophobia is so last century.

"Hey hey, Eli jelly!" I heard someone say. 'Eli jelly' as in me. It was from Max. I shot up and glanced at him.

"Morning," I mumbled, moving up in line.

"What can I get for ya'?" Hmm, I don't know man, your hoodie would be great.

"Can I get-uh...the Number One?"

He grinned. "Eli, you're number one. How do you get yourself?"

I flushed. Max liked to joke around about how I was 'number one' and the 'worst best student'. I have no clue why. Actually, that was a lie. I do know. Since freshman year, our English teacher, Ms. Duboise, would always call me her number one student. Not because of my grades, but because my mom and they were practically best friends. So I always get a little extra love from Ms. Doboise.

"I dunno Max, that sounds juuuust a little narcissistic. I would never do such a thing," I said sarcastically, waving my hands around. "Can I size up on the fries too?"

"Of course, buddy," Buddy. Ouch. "And I'm assuming you want the lemonade?" I nodded. And this, my readers, is one of my favorite things about him. He can take my order without me having to do much talking. Which is perfect, because If I tried to take my order, I would be stumbling over all my words and everyone would think I'm crazy. Which I am-- crazy in love with this dude.

"Your order will be out quicker than I can say 'My Pleasure'," he announced, giving Chick-Fil-A's catchphrase a very suggestive tone. I snorted, my ears starting to burn red. But, sure enough, my order was out. A lady further down behind the counter called out my order name.

"See ya in class, Elijah," Max smiled, holding his hand out for a fist bump. I gave him one, then moved down the counter and grabbed my food. When I finally got to my car, I pulled the fist I bumped Max with into my sleeve and brushed my other fingers against the knuckles. I think I might've stayed like that until my food got cold.