Eleven #2
The journey to Elliot’s house was short in terms of minutes, but my mind made it feel a whole lot longer.
As I pulled up to the address he had sent me, my lips tugged downward.
It was a small house, battered and falling apart on the outside, with bags of trash littering the front yard.
Shriveled bushes with dying roses adorning the green and brown leaves lined the entrance to the door.
The house was pitch black, leaving only the moonlight to illuminate its existence. Did he give me the wrong address?
Just as I was about to text him, a single porch light flicked on, and Elliot pushed open a screen door.
I switched off the engine, stepping out as Elliot waved me over to him.
The inside of the house was much cozier than the outside.
A warm hue blanketed the living room as we walked inside, the scent of cinnamon wafting through the air.
Elliot scratched the back of his neck as he kept his head low.
I trailed his steps as he gave a brief tour.
And by tour , I mean he showed me the living room and the bathroom, then pointed toward the kitchen.
A vintage buttercream wallpaper with tiny flowers decorating the empty spaces covered the entire home, or at least what I could see of it.
There was a wooden ceiling fan in the center of the room with two couches and one ottoman surrounding a sturdy television.
I pushed the front of my left shoe against the back of my right heel, about to kick off my sneakers, when my eyes connected with Elliot’s feet. His shoes were still on.
I continued scanning and noticed most of the carpet had been stained and then partially covered by an antique-looking brown rug.
When I lifted my head, a collection of family pictures caught my eye.
I stepped closer, tracing the frame with my hand.
It was Elliot as a child dressed in a dinosaur costume and a young girl clutching a frilly wand with wings poking out from behind her. A fairy . I smiled warmly.
Elliot sucked in a breath; his hands clenched tightly by his side. “So, this is it.”
“Cool.”
And I meant it. His house felt… real . It felt lived in, like a real house should be.
Not just decorated for the eyes of others.
His stance was rigid as he shifted from one leg to the other.
I offered a smile as I plopped down on the sofa.
He let out a shaky breath, his shoulder relaxing as he grabbed two controllers from underneath the TV.
Clicking a button on the remote, the screen came to life.
“So, where’s your mom? Should I introduce myself?”
“No. She’s working.”
“Oh. Will she be back soon?”
“Nope,” he answered while tapping away at random buttons.
The corner of my lips curled as I placed my hand on top of his, halting his movements. I stared at him inquisitively.
“You’re not trying to get me to have sex with you, right?”
“Uh, what?” He scoffed while gesturing to the television, the words ‘ Call of Duty’ now illuminated on the screen. “I just want to play video games. Hate to break it to ya, Princess, but the only thing you’re gonna blow today is a zombie’s brains out with a gun.”
I bit my lip to stop from laughing. “Good.”
“So, we have to keep it down because my sister is upstairs, but basically what you do is—”
“Wait, did you say zombies ?”
While reading about Call of Duty , I saw that there were several different versions of the game— Black Ops 6 , Warzone , Modern Warfare , even Ghosts …but Zombies ? What the hell was that?
“Oh, this is gonna be fun.” He wiggled his eyebrow.
After a brief explanation from Elliot, I concentrated my focus on remembering which button performed which action, and after thirty minutes of mis-clicks and fumbles, I finally committed it to memory.
Now, it was just a matter of actually being good at the game.
And how the hell were both of my thumbs supposed to manage different movements at the same time—one to look around and the other to walk? Who designed this fucked up system?
I tucked a stray hair behind my ear as I aimed my shotgun at the nearest zombie and fired. In the blink of an eye, another zombie had attacked me from behind, killing me in an instant.
Elliot rushed over quickly, trying to revive my character, but the zombies swarmed him, pinning him against a wall and putting an end to our run.
Twelve rounds. Not too shabby for someone who couldn’t differentiate the left bumper from the left trigger only an hour ago.
Elliot set his controller down and raised an eyebrow at me.
“You’re getting better.”
“Still not as good as you thought.”
“Well, you’re better than me at everything else, so I’ll take my wins where I can get them.”
“You’re better at poisoning your lungs with smoke.”
“Oh wow.” He laughed. With every word he spoke, his voice remained steady, devoid of malice. “So, this is how you want to play? At least I didn’t get detention on the first day of school. You beat me at that.”
“You got detention, too!” I jested back.
He pointed a finger at me, smirking as he spoke. “But it was later in the day.”
“Of course, it was.”
I snorted, our laughter intertwining as the constant drone of zombies groaning in the background emanated from the television. I glanced up at him, my eyes heavy. I never thought I could feel so relaxed at someone else’s house, let alone in someone else’s company.
But with Elliot, everything felt lighter.
The same emotionally immature character who claimed the forefront of his image at school would melt away when we were alone, revealing a carefree spirit with a comical undertone.
Piercing and tattoos be damned, this boy was kind and soft and charming and funny.
I felt my cheeks pinken. Maybe I wasn’t the only one wearing a mask at school.
Maybe it was time for me to question who Elliot truly was underneath the disguise he wore.
“I guess it’s my turn to ask you now.” I shrugged.
“Ask me what?”
“You said if we wanted this fake relationship to work, we needed to know each other. So, tell me something real, Abercrombie.”
The corners of his lips twitched upward. I saw the wheels in his head turn as he contemplated what to say. His eyes flicked toward the ceiling as he pondered some more.
“After I graduate, I want to be a graphic designer.”
“Whoa.”
“ Whoa? ” he repeated, questioning my reaction. “Is it hard to believe I like drawing or something?”
“No, it’s not that.” I laughed. “It’s just, I just didn’t think you planned for tomorrow, let alone after graduation.”
“If you’re just gonna be an ass—”
I shook my head from side to side, a smile still tugging at my lips. “No, no. I’m sorry. A graphic designer is cool. Is that why you’re always doodling on your assignments?”
“Ew. Don’t say it like that.”
“Fine.” I darted my eyes toward the base of my skull. “ Sketching . Is that why you’re always sketching on your assignments?”
“I guess.” He pursed his lips. “When I picture something in my head, it’s like, I just have to draw it.”
“So, those tattoos…” I trailed off, letting my gaze shift down toward his arms.
“I saw them in a dream.”
“A dream about squiggles and roses?”
“Close.” His laughter came out light and airy. “Snakes and roses.”
“Uh-huh.” I arched my brow, staring at him skeptically. This intrigued me even more. “Go on.”
“I was at the beach swimming when out of nowhere the ocean turned into a bed of snakes trying to suffocate me. To make it stop, I just imagined roses instead. I took that dream as a sign that if I try hard enough, no matter how bad things get, I can make it good again.”
“That’s kinda poetic, in a way.”
“Well, I’m no Shakespeare, but I thought so, too. Hence the tattoos. I designed them.”
Elliot balled up his sleeves, leaving both tattoos on full display as my eyes hungrily traced up and down his bicep. His muscles tensed as he held out his arm.
My fingers tingled as I resisted the urge to trace the ink etched into his skin. I wet my lips with my tongue. Definitely, not Shakespeare. Way hotter than Shakespeare. My spine stiffened.
“They’re really good, by the way.”
“Thanks. I do some digital stuff too, but I prefer dry media.”
“You’ll have to show me sometime.”
“Maybe I will,” he said, his voice dipping into a sultry whisper. His eyes became hooded. “Your turn, Princess.”
“Um.” I pushed my hair to one side, twiddling with the ends of the strands. “I’m pretty good at trivia.”
A wide, toothy grin spread across his face, laughter pouring out of his mouth.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. I actually won eleven times in a row,” I boasted while crossing one arm over the other and leaning against the back of the sofa. “Twelve if you count the time I rose to the top of the leaderboard in Trivia Crack .”
“That phone game from a century ago?”
“Yep.”
“Seriously?”
“Mmhm.”
“Who was on your team? Stephen Hawking?”
“Just me and my sister.”
“I don’t know whether to be impressed or worried about your sanity.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“What kind of teenager goes to trivia night?”
I held up two thumbs and pointed them at myself. He howled while doubling over, clutching his abdomen. I chuckled slightly, a smile now permanently engraved on my face as I watched him cry out with amusement.
There was something about being taunted by Elliot that felt more playful than hostile. Maybe it was the way the words glazed off his tongue or the subtle twinkle in his eye. But whatever it was, it lacked malevolence. I had never known teasing like that before.
I attempted to glare at him in disapproval, but the upward turn of my lips gave away my contentment. When he finally came up for air, he wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead.
“So, you and your sister were close, huh?”
“Yeah. Uh…” I cleared my throat while looking down at my lap as I fidgeted with my fingers. “We were best friends.”
He offered a sad smile. “You must really miss her.”
“More than anything in the world.”
“Well, if she’s anything like you, then I’m sorry I never got to know her.”
“Thanks, Elliot.”
He paused, peering at me from the corner of his eye. “Unless she also liked to drunk dial her study partners, in which case I think I have my hands full with you.”
Just like that, we were back to the same banter our relationship had become accustomed to. After a few more rounds of fighting zombies and kicking undead ass, I left that night feeling something insatiable. Something I longed for. Something I had been craving since Jessie died.
A friend. A real friend.
When Friday finally rolled around, I wasn’t as nervous as I had been when Andrew first invited me to play with them.
I even ranked higher than that sassy dipshit on some of the later rounds.
And Dani, well, she was a powerhouse kicking all of our asses, time and time again.
It was sometime after meeting them but before Friday night ended that I realized something.
Behind their empty threats and pointed jabs, they weren’t trying to be mean; they were just being protective of their friend.
Meredith and Kendra would never have my back like Andrew and Dani had Elliot’s.
Maybe I had been hanging out with the wrong group of people this whole time.