Waterproof

SIXTEEN

I stepped up my game and pulled three bags from the back seat, feeling confident in my right arm.

"Getting stronger, Ellie?"

I scoffed. "You and my mom."

"What?"

"You two are the only ones who call me 'Ellie'. And she only does it when she thinks I'm seriously injured."

Carson grinned. "You like it?"

I shrugged. "I don't hate it. It's better than being called 'Eleanor.'"

I opened the fridge with my left arm and put the three bags in there. "Put the Snickers in the freezer," Carson told me.

"What?"

"Trust me. It's the best."

I shrugged. "Okay." I leaned into the fridge and pulled out the ten bars, throwing them in the top section of the refrigerator. "I don't know if they'll be cold by the time we eat half of them. I mean, we live in California and we're going to Hollywood."

Carson smiled. "It'll be fine. You brought a cooler. We can buy a bag of ice on Saturday and throw em' in there with the fruits and water."

"Good point."

After we'd finished unloading all of the groceries into the fridge, Carson turned to me and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "You wanna come in for a second?"

I thought about it. Just kidding. "Sure."

Carson started heading towards the door that leads inside the house. Before he pulled it open, he messed with the panel to get the garage door to go down. We usually left ours open, all that was in there to take was a bunch of stuff we didn't use but hadn't gotten rid of. And Josie's car.

I almost ran into Carson from his sudden to me, stop. "Sorry, Ellie. I should have warned you we function like normal people around here and prevent people from stealing our stuff."

I laughed at his teasing tone. "Shut up, and hurry up. It's hot out here." I grabbed the front of my dark blue flowy tank top and pulled it back and forth from my body to create cool air against my skin.

Carson laughed at my dramatics and pushed the door to his house open. The air conditioner was on at a cool degree, immediately getting rid of any and all sweat I once had. "Oh my God," I mumbled. "It feels so good in here."

Carson chuckled. "What do ya' wanna do?"

I stopped. "You're supposed to decide these things now. That's how it works when you have someone over."

"Well, I want to eat."

I laughed. "Sounds good."

Carson leads us into the kitchen. It had light grey walls with white cabinets, a white countertop, a stainless steel fridge, and yellow sprinkled around the room. It was kind of like the kitchen I'd imagined having when I moved out and got out of college.

I sat down at one of the barstools that were lined against one side of the kitchen island as Carson rummaged around in the fridge. "It looks like we have..." He paused to look in the freezer. "Chicken nuggets and ice cream. Pick your poison."

I thought about it. "Chicken nuggets."

"I'm shocked to the core, Ellie. I would have assumed-"

"That a teenage girl would choose ice cream? It was a tough call, truly. But I eat ice cream every night when I'm supposed to be sleeping but instead, I'm watching Parks and Rec while, as you know, eating a bowl of frozen cream."

Carson laughed and pulled the chicken nuggets out of the freezer and threw the package on the island.

He pulled a pan out of one of the cabinets and set it down next to the nuggets, this time carefully. He checked the directions on the back of the bag and headed towards the stove, about to press a button but stopping halfway between his body and said button. Then he turned towards me. "Do you know how to use an oven?"

I laughed and got up, coming to stand next to him. "What's the temp supposed to be?"

"Four twenty-five."

I nodded and pressed the bake button, and then the up arrow key to get the temperature up to where it was supposed to be set at. And then I pressed start.

I started to turn around at the same time he moved to the right, meaning I ran into his body. I bounced back a little and hit the stove.

Carson laughed. "You okay, Ellie?"

I rubbed my forehead. "I think your chest gave me a concussion."

This, of course, made him laugh harder. "Are you saying my chest is rock hard?"

I rolled my eyes and walked towards him, shoving him playfully. "No," I replied sarcastically. "I'm saying you feel like a pillow."

Carson scoffed and raised a brow. "This body is not made from marshmallows."

I snorted. "You're right. It's made from chicken nuggets."