Yeah, sorry for how bad this sounds. I had a bit of writers block while writing this, but all is good. BTW, about the 'number,' I had to just add a stupid fake one because I didn't want it to be real, you get me? (You'll see what I'm talking about). Okay, enjoy!
04
MOOSE can feel himself getting sick, which is one of the worst feelings in the world. His nose has been running, his throat burns when he swallows, and he's had a pounding headache since last night. It's like he was fine one day, and then the next he was sick. He's positive he didn't catch a cold from the Navy's because he was barely even around them, but maybe Eleanor didn't tell him that her family was getting over a sickness. He's not too sure, and he'd rather not think about that right now.
Rubbing at his tired eyes, Moose pulls the blue bedsheets off of his body and sits up. Squeezing his nose to try and relieve his obnoxious headache, he grabs his phone to see what time it is. A bright light shoots from it, causing him to squint his eyes and look away. He hurriedly dims the brightness and then looks back at his phone. 4:35, it reads, making him let out a quiet sigh. No point in going back to sleep, he thinks to himself as he turns his little lamp on.
He slithers off of his bed, stretching out his long body as he stands up. A few bones pop and he winces, narrowing his eyes as he looks around for the gray sweater he threw off of himself just a couple hours ago. After a few seconds of searching, he finally spots it on the floor, hiding underneath his bed. He bends down and grabs it, pulling it over his head afterwards. He let's out a quiet yawn, and glances around his bedroom, frowning.
His eyes suddenly feel heavy and he looks over at his bed, craving to go back to sleep. Realizing that no matter what he tries, he still wouldn't be able to fall asleep. Shaking the thought of tiredness out of his head, Moose approaches the bathroom in long strides. He quietly opens the door and steps in, flipping on the light switch after he enters.
Slowly walking up to the sink, he turns the knob, waiting for the cold water to come pouring out of the spout. Letting out a deep sigh, he splashes the cold water on his face. He quickly shuts the water off, and rakes his sleeve across his face.
Moose glances up into the mirror, his brown orbs staring back at himself. His frown droops even lower when he notices that his eye bags are starting to get worse and he's starting to look like he's forming frown lines, even though he's only sixteen and a half years old. His grip tightens on the counter as he moves his eyes around, taking in the once happy boy.
Gritting his teeth, he looks away, and continues standing there for a few seconds before storming out of the bathroom. He flicks the light switch off, not bothering to use the toilet once he's finished. He paces back and forth, his feet pounding against the ground, not realizing that he may be making more noise than he should be.
Squeezing his eyes shut to release tension, Moose breathes in and out through his nose, trying to calm the forming attitude. He lifts up his thumb and starts biting on the nail in a nervous habit. This is not how he normally acts. He should be smiling and thankful that he's alive, but he's not. He just wants to go to sleep.
Suddenly, his door bursts open, causing him to jump. His eyes quickly glance over to the intruder, and he let's out relieved sigh. "Hey," Max peeks his head into the room, "are you okay?" He questions, his voice rough, sounding as though he just woke up.
Moose nods his head in reply, and bites down on his bottom lip. His brother doesn't need to know that he's actually not fine, and that he's upset over being upset. "Sorry if I woke you up. I needed to use the bathroom," he mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.
Max stares at brother, knowing that he's lying. He shakes his head and looks around Moose's room. "You didn't wake me up," he lies, "I just wanted to see if you were alright."
"Well, I'm fine," Moose says, forcing a smile. "You should go to sleep. Don't you have to wake up in a minute and go to Carson's house?" He asks, trying to change the subject.
"You should go to sleep because you need to rest. I'm fine with staying up, as long you're the one doing the sleeping," Max retorts, giving his brother a look.
His shoulders droop and he drops the forced grin. "I'm trying," he mutters, looking down at the carpeted floor.
"Try harder," Max demands, getting ready to shut the door. "And, yes," he begins, "I'm going to Carson's house at five, so if I come check on you and you're awake, I'm going to kick your ass before I leave."
"I'll be asleep," Moose promises, not because of the ass kicking part, but because Max is right. He needs to get some sleep. Watching as the door closes behind his brother, Moose falls onto his bed and stares up at the ceiling. He furrows his eyebrows in thought, and then looks away from the roof. He reaches up and turns the bright lamp off; pulling his covers over his long body.
•|•
Moose doesn't know when or how he managed to fall asleep, but he did. At 10:26 he woke up, his headache gone, but his nose pouring. He's sort of embarrassed about how he acted last night around his brother. He shouldn't of pretended like he was fine when he wasn't.
Storming down the stairs in loud stomps, Moose shoves his way by his overly large piano, and walks into the kitchen. His sister, Michelle, is stirring a pan of scrambled eggs while Max, his brother, is sitting at the table, typing rapidly on his phone. Moose takes a seat in front of the nineteen year old boy; the sound of him plopping into the chair echoing throughout the kitchen. "Hey," he mutters, rubbing at his tired eyes.
Max quickly looks up and winks at him. "I'm texting Carson," he mouths, pointing down at his phone. "Didn't you just come from her house?" Moose replies, raising an eyebrow. His eyes suddenly widen when he realizes his mistake.
"Who's house?" Michelle asks, placing three plates onto the table. She pushes two of them to her brother's and leaves one in front of the empty seat that she will be sitting in once she finishes cooking breakfast.
Glaring at his brother, Max turns to face Michelle. "I went to visit Nicole this morning," he lies straight through his teeth, not stuttering at all. He presses the power button on his phone, shutting it off so that Michelle doesn't see who he's texting.
"Nicole who?" She inquires, dropping a couple pieces of bacon onto a napkin. "Do I know her?"
"Probably not," Max replies. "She's younger and doesn't like to be the center of attention," he states. Moose snorts, causing a dirty look to get sent his way.
"Do you know her, Moose?" She asks dumping the eggs into a drainer, waiting until all the extra water pours out of the tiny holes. He shakes his head, not liking the thought of getting yelled at by his sister. If she finds out that he's been lying to her, she won't kick his ass, she'll kick him out.
Finally dropping the conversation of Nicole, Michelle swiftly places a bowl of eggs, a dish of bacon, and three glasses of orange juice onto the table. "I don't understand why I'm doing this for you guys. You're both capable of walking and you can work your arms just fine. I think I'm turning into a mom," she groans, falling back into her chair, her hand raised up to her forehead for dramatics.
"You look like one," Max retorts dumping a spoonful of eggs onto his plate. A hand suddenly appears, smacking his arm, roughly. "Ow," he rolls his eyes, "that hurt," he says, ripping a piece of bacon in half. He sticks it into his mouth with a dead-panned look on his face as he chews.
Narrowing her eyes at him in a teasing way, Michelle elbows him, and then lifts her glass up. "So," she begins, staring at Moose, making him feel uncomfortable. "I heard that you couldn't go to sleep last night," she states. Moose's eyes snap towards his older brother. "You told her?" He accuses.
"What?! No, why would-" Max stops the lie that is getting ready to spill out of his mouth. "Don't be mad at me. I couldn't just not tell her," he states. "You understand, don't you?"
"Perfectly," Moose smirks at his brother before he starts speaking to Michelle. "So, did you hear that Max has been sleeping with-" he gets interrupted by his brother's loud voice.
"Nicole! I've been sleeping with Nicole!" He yells, kicking Moose's shin. The sixteen year old hisses in pain, and sends a dirty look to his brother. "I've been keeping it a secret because I didn't want you to be disappointed in me," Max says, stabbing his fork into the eggs.
Michelle furrows her eyebrows, not comprehending what's going on between her two brothers. "How is that any of my business in the first place?" She asks, pushing her plate away from her. "Are we confessing our secrets, or something?"
"Yes!" Max quickly replies. "It's Moose's turn, now. What's your confession?" He inquires, raising a daring eyebrow. Moose knows that if he even mentions the slightest bit of Carson, he'll be dead by tomorrow. "I've never kissed anyone," he admits, not feeling embarrassed at all.
"We already knew that," Max retorts, "say another one." Shrugging his shoulders, Moose looks around. He doesn't really have any secrets besides the fact that he actually used to have a crush on Carson. "I met a girl named Eleanor around two weeks ago," he tries, and succeeds.
"Eleanor Navy?" Michelle questions, jutting her chin out in curiosity. Moose nods his head in reply, not seeing what this had to do with the confessions. "She has a brother, Eddie, right? I dated him a couple years ago," she states, fiddling with a napkin. "I heard that he's getting married to Olivia Millfield," she tells Max, knowing that Moose would have no idea what they're talking about.
"The girl that never talked?" Max questions, raising an eyebrow. He earns a nod in reply. "How did she end up with Eddie Navy, then? Wasn't he, like, known for breaking hearts, or something?"
Michelle shrugs her shoulders. "I guess she was able to wrap him around her pinky finger because they're engaged," she replies. "Is it my turn?" She questions, and, not bothering for an answer, she says, "I lied about going to a party once. You remember that, don't you Max?"
He furrows his eyebrows. "Was it Josh Cradey's party? Didn't you say that you were going to a friend's house, or something?" He asks. He earns a nodding head in reply, making him let out a huff. "I actually thought you wasn't going, so I didn't go. He threw the biggest parties," he groans.
"Yeah," Moose begins, "I thought this was about our confessions, not us remembering our high school experience," he states, rocking his chair back on its legs.
Michelle smirks at her brother. "Just because you're sixteen does not mean that you will never have fun. Stop being jealous that we were cool and you're not," she teases.
He rolls his eyes at her. "I am not jealous," he retorts. "I just don't want to replay our memories. I was, like, twelve when you and loser were in highschool. All I remember is getting my braces off."
Max stares at him for few seconds before a flat look falls onto his face. "I'm not a loser," he remarks, sipping his orange juice. "At least you have good teeth, now, right, Mich?" She quickly nods her head. "Yeah, before your teeth were all crooked and kind of gross looking," she tells him.
Moose narrows his eyes at her. "They were not that bad," he says, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm going out later," he says, changing the subject. "Are you guys doing anything?" He inquires, tapping his fingers onto the table.
Giving him a look, Michelle purses her lips. "You're sick, you need to stay home and rest," she replies. "Where could you possibly be going, anyways? It's too cold for you to go out with Gunter."
He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't care. I'm still going to go," he remarks. "And I'm not that sick. I don't think I'll infect them, or anything." He tells her, pushing his plate full of food away from him. He hadn't touched anything except for a piece of a bacon.
"Don't you think that you should stay and play your piano? You haven't practiced in a while," she suggests, making him let out a sigh. "I haven't felt like it," he admits, standing up. "I'm going to go take a shower. No one use the water," he demands, giving them both a pointed look. He shoves his chair into the table, and backs away.
"No promises," Max sings, sticking his fork into Moose's leftovers. His arm suddenly gets smacked by his sister's hand. "What was that for?" He questions, furrowing his eyebrows, innocently.
"He's not done eating," she retorts, "you can't just eat someone's food when they're leaving."
Max rolls his eyes. "He's not hungry, obviously," he remarks, grabbing the plate.
She gasps. "Max, that is so rude! Moose, tell him you're not finished eating!"
The boy shrugs his shoulders. "He can have it. I'm not hungry," Moose tells her, walking out of the living room. He trudges up the stairs, silently, but not before glancing over at the lonely piano sitting against the wall, untouched.
•|•
Eleanor didn't tell him when he could come over, and he was flipping out on the inside. What if she meant later, like, six o' clock, or something? Moose didn't know. He should just turn around, right now, and go back home. He could just go another day and tell her that he was sick, which is the truth. He is sick.
Taking a deep breath, Moose walks up to the door that he got pushed out of yesterday. He stares at it, rolling his lips into his mouth. He raises his fist up, ready to pound on it, when he drop his hand and squeezes his eyes shut. "I'm leaving," he states, swiftly spinning around.
Gunter, his pet, gives him a look. "Don't do that," Moose hisses, crossing his arms over his chest. "What if she meant later," he excuses, frowning. She didn't clearly state what time they would meet, so it's not his fault if he doesn't show up. She probably doesn't even care, he thinks to himself. Gunter lays on top of Moose's feet, causing him to stumble back from how heavy the animal is.
The door suddenly opens, and his neck snaps behind him. He stares at a confused Lucy for a few seconds before grinning, sheepishly. "Is Eleanor home?" He asks, biting his bottom lip with red cheeks.
Lucy tilts her head and looks down at his feet. She shrugs her shoulders, letting her eyes flick back up. "She should be, why?" She inquires, raising an eyebrow.
Subtly kicking Gunter off of his feet, Moose sticks his hands into his coat pockets. "She invited me over," he replies, "to help her make cookies."
Pursing her lips, Lucy nods her head, and opens the door to let him in. "She hasn't started yet, mainly because she's lazy," she begins, waiting for him to tell Gunter that he has to stay outside so that he doesn't get fur all over the place. She shuts the door behind him. "Follow me, her room is just down this hallway," she states, trailing through the living room.
Following behind her, Moose gazes at the familiar Christmas tree that, he thinks, got him sick. They walk down the hallway until they reach a wooden door. "I'll be in my room, if you get bored of her company," she tells him, before muttering to herself, "why did you say that?"
Moose nods his head, and stands in front of Eleanor's door for a few seconds. What if she thinks he's annoying? He should leave. How did Lucy even know he was outside? Before he knows what's happening, his fist is pounding on the seventeen year old girl's door. He suddenly jerks his hand back, and shoots it a glare.
He hears a few grunts and curse words fall out of the girl's mouth before the door is being opened. Eleanor stands in front of him with narrowed eyes, a hand on her forehead. The sour look that was previously on her face drops, and a shocked one appears. "Moose?" She questions, quickly slipping her hand away from her head, her cheeks tinted pink. "What're you doing here?"
Rocking back on his heels, he awkwardly shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know," he says, "for the cookies?" He looks over head, and into her bedroom. The walls are clear white, except for a few missed paint spots, and fairy lights decorate around the room. A wooden desk and a bookcase stand side by side, both in front of her bed. A computer and a couple of textbooks sit on top of the desk; books scattered upon the shelves. Her bedspread is plain black with white pillows laying on it.
Eleanor pulls her door closer to her, blocking his view from the rest of the room. "It's a mess," she explains, biting the inside of her mouth. "I haven't felt like cleaning up, and I wasn't really expecting company right now, but that's okay," she continued.
"Yester- I can leave," Moose tells her, taking a step back. He knew he should have came later. Why did he have to come so early?
"No, you're fine. I just," she yawns, "give me a few seconds to get ready, and then we'll start on the cookies," she tells him, shutting the door.
Moose narrows his eyes at the door and then let's out a sigh. He wants to leave. This is so awkward, why did he even come? He spins around and starts walking down the hallway, only to be pulled into a bedroom. Furrowing his eyebrows, he looks down at Lucy and gives her a confused look.
"Sorry, for that," she begins, her leg bobbing up and down. "I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I shouldn't have made you feel uncomfortable," she says, fiddling with her fingers.
His eyes widen, and he nods his head. "I wasn't uncomfortable," he admits, "I just thought you were annoyed at me."
"How could I have been annoyed at you when we just met?" She questions, grinning. "I thought you were being mean to me because I was annoying you."
He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. Lucy's easy to talk to. Maybe he didn't make the mistake of coming. "I'm not experienced in that kind of stuff, so I didn't understand what you were doing," he explains, his cheeks turning pink, again.
"To be honest, I didn't even know what I was doing," she tells him, her eyes searching his face. "So, you're here to make cookies?" He nods his head in reply. "I would help, but El says," she clears her throat to imitate her older sister, "You're a disaster in the kitchen, Lucy, and people who are disasters are not allowed to bake."
Scrunching up his nose, Moose let's out a little chuckle because even though he doesn't know Eleanor Navy all that well, he's pretty sure she'd say something like that. "Is that what she says?" Moose asks, smiling.
Lucy nods her head, her eyes lighting up. "Yeah," she states, twirling a piece of her dark hair. Her hair was not just dark brown or black, it was like a night sky, glowing. Her hair makes her skin look more pale than it actually is, and she's short, which just makes her look cute. Her eyes shine bright blue, holding every emotion that one person could possibly hold. Moose knew that Eleanor was pretty, but he also realized that her sister was, too.
A knock on Lucy's door causes him to snap back into reality. He didn't realize that he was staring at Lucy for a few seconds with some weird look on his face. She probably thinks I'm creepy, Moose thinks to himself, mentally cursing. "Great," he heaves out.
"Do you know where Moose is?" Eleanor mutters, stepping a little into the room. "Oh," she spots him, and motions for him to follow her. "Not you, Lucy, you're a disaster in the kitchen, and people who are disasters are not allowed to bake." She snaps, giving her sister a look.
Moose's nose flares out as he tries to hold back his laughter.
Grinning, Lucy shrugs her shoulders. "Okay, I won't help," she says, "but you better make extras, or else I will help."
Rolling her eyes, Eleanor sticks her tongue out at Lucy, and grabs Moose's wrist. She drags him into the kitchen, trying not to make contact with his hand. She stops, causing him to bump into her. "This is my- our kitchen," she states, moving away from him. "Are you allergic to anything?" She questions, resting her arm onto the counter next to the sink.
Looking around, Moose furrows his eyebrows. "What do you mean? He inquires, his foot tapping the ground.
She gives him a flat look. "I meant exactly what I said. Are you allergic to anything?" She repeats, rinsing her hands under the cold water.
"Oh," he mutters, "well, I'm allergic to pine trees-" he gets interrupted by an irritated voice.
"No, Moose, food wise," she hisses, crossing her arms over her chest with an annoyed look.
He nods his head, finally understanding what she meant. "Cinnamon and, like, nuts, I guess," he replies, shrugging his shoulders.
Eleanor let's out a loud groan. "Peanut butter cookies are on the list, Moose," she tells him, pinching her nose. "Are you highly allergic?" She suddenly asks, getting an idea.
He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. "I mean, I guess not, no," he tells her, "but to cinnamon, yes."
Nodding her head, she let's out a sigh. "Okay, so, if you touch peanut butter you'll be fine, right?" She questions, squatting down. She opens up a cabinet and starts rummaging through it. "Because if you can, you'd be more helpful than I thought."
Moose shrugs his shoulders, again. "Yeah," he replies, grabbing the metal bowl that she was handing him. "I just can't eat it because my throat swells shut," he explains.
"Good, good," she mumbles to herself, running a finger over an unclean spoon. "See, this is why Lucy doesn't need to be in the kitchen at all," Eleanor states, throwing the spoon into the dishwasher.
"At least she tries," Chipper says, stepping into the room. She glances over at Moose, her green eyes narrowing, before she sends him a grin. "Hello, Macsen!" She waves at him. "What're you doing here?"
"Holding a bowl and making cookies."
"Mom, he likes to be called Moose, so stop calling him Macsen," El demands, placing a bag of flour into the bowl Moose is holding.
Chipper watches them for a few seconds, not bothering to pay any mind to her daughter's comment. "Are you and Macsen dating?" She suddenly questions, causing El to jump in the air.
"No," she snaps, her cheeks red. "We're," she looks over at Moose, "friends."
"Friends? What type of friends are you?" Her mother retorts raising an eyebrow.
"Ignore her-" Eleanor gets interrupted.
"We just met, but we're trying to be the type of friends that hang out together," Moose tells her. "We're hanging out at her- your house today, and we'll hang out at mine next week," he continued, casually leaning against the counter.
"Exactly," El agrees, rolling her eyes as she pulls out a tub of peanut butter and sugar. "We have that type of friendship," she shakes her head, snickering, a grin forming on her face.
Eying them, Chipper nods and gives them a look. "Okay, I just wanted to make sure," she says, slowly walking out of the kitchen, not before sending Moose a quick wink.
Puffing out his cheeks, Moose let's out a quiet huff. "Your mom," he begins letting out a low whistle, "is kind of," he thinks of a word, "interesting."
"I promise you, she does not act that bad when you're not around. I think she does it to embarrass me," Eleanor admits, sitting a salt shaker next to some of her ingredients. "Are you sure you'll be okay?" She asks, glancing over at him with a concerned look.
"Oh, yeah," he waves her off, "I'll be completely okay," he tells her, not sounding hopeful at all.
•|•
Moose was right, he was fine. His throat didn't swell shut and his cheeks didn't get big and red. He was okay, except for the fact that he got peanut butter in his hair, but that was his fault for dozing off while Eleanor was trying to mix the ingredients in the bowl.
"All that's left to do is put them in the oven and wait," she tells him, after they both rolled the cookie dough into small balls. She grabs an oven mitt from a drawer, and sticks the sheet of cookies into the oven. "So," she grins, "did you have fun?" She questions, jumping up on the counter to sit on.
He nods his head. "Yeah," he mutters, "they smell good, too. It sucks that I don't get to try one," he sadly states, pulling himself up on the counter beside her. "Is this okay?" He asks, not realizing that this is not his house, and he can't just go jumping on other people's counter tops.
"Oh, you're fine," Eleanor brushes him off. "I know this is kind of stupid, but I made chocolate cookies last night, if you want one later. They're in the fridge," she tells him, her cheeks tinting pink.
Grinning, Moose glances over at her, biting down on his bottom lip. "You made cookies? Then, why did you invite me over to help you?" He inquires, raising an eyebrow. "Is it because you're actually trying the friendship thing with me?"
Rolling her eyes, Eleanor scowls at him teasingly. "Of course not," she says, winking at him. Shaking her head, she let's out a quiet laugh. "No, I have to bake a certain amount, and I made a couple extras last night," she explains.
Trying to hide his red face from El, he pulls his hand up to cover the side of his face, and pretends to run a hand through his hair. How did a wink cause him to heat up? That's ridiculous. Shaking his head, he bites the inside of his cheek.
"Where's your pet at?" El asks, looking around. "Did he not come with you?"
Narrowing his eyes at her, he replies, "Gunter is not a pet, and he's outside because I thought you guys wouldn't want moose fur all over your house."
Snorting, El elbows his arm. "Then why didn't you stay outside, too?" She remarks, raising an eyebrow.
He let's out a fake laugh. "You're funny," he states, rolling his eyes.
Fred suddenly marches into the kitchen, his eyes wide with excitement. "Guess who just got invited to a hot college girl's party," he says, but instead of letting them guess, he speaks. "This guy did!" He to points to himself.
Jumping off of the counter, Eleanor furrows her eyebrows. "Why would any girl invite you to a party?" She asks, "especially a college girl?"
Glaring at his sister, Fred let's out a huff. "Okay, so maybe I didn't get invited, but Eddie did. He said he didn't want to go, and since I look like him, I can take his spot. Not like they'll be checking, anyways," he tells her, and then stops talking. "What's he doing here?" He asks, causing Moose's eyebrows to shoot up.
"He's my friend," Eleanor reminds her brother, giving him a look. "I'd also appreciate it if you would leave. We're making cookies," she snaps at him.
"No," Fred states, crossing his arms over his chest. "If Moose is your friend, he's my friend, too."
Moose looks anywhere but Fred. He hops down from the counter and leans his back against it, pretending to be interested in the kitchens wallpaper.
"Okay, Fred, why don't you go bother Eddie or Lucy," she suggests, walking around him to get to the refrigerator. "I heard that they actually like hearing you complain and nag," she tells him, pulling out a bag.
Fred eyes the bag, and jerks it out of his sister's hands. "Are these triple chocolate?" He inquires, pulling the plastic zip apart. He takes a cookie out, only for it to be snatched away from him.
"Um, hello, no," Eleanor hisses to him. "These are for the church, and I have the exact amount they need. If you eat this, I'm going to have to remake them," she tells him, swiftly taking the bag from him.
Rolling his eyes, Fred raises his hands in the air. "Sorry for wanting one of them. Next time, don't lie. Just be honest and say that you only have an extra one for your boyfriend." He quickly stomps out of the kitchen, his feet pounding against the floor.
"Why does your family think that we're dating?" Moose asks her, gazing down at her short figure.
She shrugs her shoulders and grabs a napkin. She places it on top of the counter and sets the cookie down on it. "I'm not very popular in the friend category, so, I guess they just assume that since you're my friend, we're together. I don't know," she replies, pushing the cookie towards him.
"Thanks," he mutters, wrapping his hand around the napkin. "Same," he says, breaking a piece off of the sugary treat. "I mean, I don't have any friends, like, at all, except for Gunter, if he even counts."
"He counts," Eleanor retorts, pulling on the oven mitt. "Any kind of friend counts," she mumbles, mainly to herself; bending down. She yanks the oven open, and grabs the metal pan. She sets it down on top of the stove, sliding the mitt off. "You're missing out on a lot," she begins, "my peanut butter cookies are the best."
Moose smiles, watching as she flips them over, checking to see if the bottoms are burned. "Sorry, if I had a choice I wouldn't be allergic," he tells her, chewing his triple chocolate cookie.
"How does it taste?" Eleanor asks him, raising an eyebrow. She twists the knob to turn the oven off, and then walks over to him with crossed arms.
"Pretty good, pretty good," he replies, bobbing his head up and down. "Is baking your passion, or something?" He questions, curiously.
She shakes her head no and let's out a snort. "No, it's just something for me to do. I don't want to be some magnificent baker, or whatever," she replies, shrugging her shoulders. "What about you? Is playing the piano your passion?"
He sucks in a deep breath and wipes the cookie crumbs off of his mouth. "I don't know," he admits, glancing at her, "I'm not great at it and I rarely ever play anymore."
"Why?" She inquires, "have you not felt like it, or did you just become bored with it?"
Moose bites his bottom lip. "See, I don't know. It's like I love playing it, but I just don't want to. My piano sits at the bottom of my staircase, so I can play it whenever I want, but I brush by it because it looks annoying, you get me?" He explains.
Eleanor nods her head, furrowing her eyebrows. "How long have you regarded playing it?" She asks, leaning her back against the counter.
"Two months," he says, "maybe three. I haven't really been counting, if I'm being honest with you."
"Play something new," she suggests, "I always try new recipes when I get bored baking. The triple chocolate cookies were just a spir of the moment."
"Maybe," he mumbles, his lips pursing in concentration. "But playing music and baking are two different things," he reminds her.
"True," she says, "but that doesn't mean that they can't have similarities," she points out, slumping her shoulders.
Lucy walks in a second later, her eyebrows raised in shock. "You play the piano, Moose?" She asks, a grin slipping onto her face. "Will you play something for me," she says, trudging over to the oven. She breaks a piece off of the peanut butter cookie, puts it in her nouth, and then let's out a satisfied sigh.
"I don't know," Moose's cheeks blush red, "I've only ever played in front of my family," he tells her, looking down at the ground.
Noticing that he's uncomfortable, Eleanor changes the subject. "How are they? Too dry, too sweet?" She questions, her eyes pointed at the cookie in Lucy's hand.
Shaking her head, Lucy let's out a low whistle. "They are very good," she replies in a deeper voice than her own, "very, very good. Nice job you two."
"Thank you," Eleanor grins, "Moose barely even helped me, though," she teases, elbowing him in the arm. "Nah, he was great help, weren't you, Moose?"
He runs a tongue over his teeth, a goofy smile suddenly appearing on his face after hearing her comment. "Yeah, Lucy, I was excellent help," he says, winking at her.
Lucy's cheeks tint pink and she let's out a quiet giggle before she bites down on her bottom lip. "You're cute," she mutters, sending him a small smile.
Rolling her eyes, Eleanor walks away from the two, her petite body trailing over to the sink. Moose stares at her for a few seconds before glancing back down at Lucy. "Thanks," he replies, not caring if his face is as red hers. "You are, too," he says, honestly.
"I know this sounds stupid, but I've been thinking," she trails off, blinking rapidly.
"Well, spit it out, Luce! He doesn't have all day," Eleanor snaps at her, twisting her short hair into a low bun with her finger. She then let's it twirl out, flowing back down into curls.
Glaring at the back of her sister's head, Lucy crosses her arms over her chest, awkwardly. "Do you," she begins, rocking on the ball of her heels, "want my number?" She hurriedly questions.
Moose's eyes widen in shock as he stares at the girl in front of him. His lips part but he doesn't speak. Should he get her number, or is too soon? He feels like he just met her today. Who wants to text someone they barely know? "Sure," he mutters, not knowing what else to say. He pulls out his phone, and taps in his code. Pressing his finger on the contact app, he patiently waits for her to give him her number.
Lucy slowly tells him it, her voice shaking at times. When she's finished, she let's a grin rest on her face. "Text me later," she states, backing out of the kitchen.
It's silent for a minute, and then Eleanor turns around, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Are you actually going to text her?" She asks, leaning against the counter.
He shrugs his shoulders, a content look appearing on his face. "Yeah, I guess," he replies, tilting his head in concentration.
"You don't have to," El says, "if it was me, I wouldn't have even bothered putting her number in. I would have pretended," she admits.
"Really?" Moose furrows his eyebrows, not believing her. "So, if I give you my number will you pretend to put it in?" He inquires, biting his bottom lip.
Letting out a laugh, Eleanor rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "No, Moose, I'd actually text you. I'm talking about a stranger, or someone that I barely know," she explains.
He looks up and scrunches his nose. "You barely know me," he reminds her, running a hand through his thick locks.
"Yeah, but we sort of get along together," she retorts, pulling out her phone. "Here, put your number in, and you'll see if I'll text you," she states.
Staring down at her phone, Moose notices that it sort of smells like her; cinnamon and vanilla. He quickly taps his number in and hands it back to her. "There you go," he mumbles, sighing.
"You should head home," El suddenly says, "it's supposed to start snowing at five, and it's already four thirty." She opens the fridge and grabs the plastic bag from before. "Here," she shakes it in front of him.
"Aren't these for your church?" He asks her, taking the bag.
Nodding her head, she shrugs her shoulders. "I made a little bit more than I should have, and since you're allergic to peanut butter you can have them," she replies, "just don't tell Fred," she whispers, putting a finger up to her lips.
Something warm springs up through his stomach, and then Moose thanks her as he pulls on his black winter jacket. "Um, so you'll text me later?" He questions trudging over to the door.
"When did I say that?" She retorts, raising a teasing eyebrow.
He sends her a flat look as he opens the front door. "You're funny," he repeats from earlier.
"I try to be," Eleanor says, pushing on his back for him to go outside. "Be safe," she mutters, waving her hand at him. Gunter suddenly runs up to her, and she bends down on one knee to pet him.
Moose gets a good look at the girl. Her curly brown hair hangs over her face as she tickles the baby animal, and her murky green eyes light up as she smiles. He hears her soft voice ringing through the air as he shakes himself from his daze.
"Next time we meet up, I'm hanging out with this guy, not you," Eleanor states, rolling up her black sleeves. She stands up, her small head barely reaching Moose's neck. "See you when I see you," she tells him, getting ready to shut the door, but a hand pushes it back.
"Don't you mean you'll text me when you text me," he teases, raising up his eyebrows.
She rolls her eyes and slams the door shut, but not before yelling, "I already deleted your number, dork!"
•|•
Walking down the staircase and into the living room, Moose plops down on the white love seat next to his older brother. He stares at the television screen, not bothering to pay any attention to the show Max was watching. The volume suddenly turns down, causing Moose to look over at his brother with a raised eyebrow.
"Did you have fun with Eleanor?" Max questions, wiggling his eyebrows. He has on a black long sleeve from Hollister and gray sweatpants. His dirty blonde hair is all over the place, looking wet, like he just got out of the shower.
Narrowing his eyes, Moose retorts, "Did you have fun with Carson?" A pillow hits his face, causing him to fall to the floor from the hard impact. Raising up on his elbows, Moose let's out a loud huff and stands back up. "You didn't have to do that," he mutters, annoyed.
"Yeah, and you didn't have to be so loud," Max remarks, rolling his eyes. "Did you have fun baking cookies?" He asks, changing the subject.
"Sure, did you have fun banging?" Moose innocently inquires, setting back down on the couch. He gets kicked in the shoulder and is knocked back down on the ground, again. "Could you stop?" He groans, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Could you stop?" Max mocks, being serious. "If Michelle hears you, I swear I will kick your ass so hard you'll be forever paralyzed," he hisses.
Muttering out a string of curse words, Moose, yet again, gets back on the couch, cautiously. "It was just a question," he slowly states.
Glancing over at his younger brother, Max juts out his jaw and nods his head. "Yeah, I had fun," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Didn't you go to her house, what, like, two times today?" Moose asks, biting the inside of his cheek.
"Three," Max corrects, "and I was finally able to take a shower a minute ago," he admits. "Did you and El," he trails off in a suggestive manner.
Moose shakes his head no and let's out a deep sigh. "We barely know each other, dude," he says.
"So?" Max snorts, "Carson and I could care less if we got to know each other. All we care about is the other's body," he retorts.
"Yeah," Moose begins, "but I don't want just sex," he admits.
Max let's out a loud laugh. "Yeah, okay," he says, rolling his eyes. "Did you at least get her number?" He asks.
Shaking his head no, Moose pulls out his phone and hands it to his brother. "I got her sister's, though," he replies, shrugging his shoulders.
"You got-" Max's eyes widen as he stares at his brother, "holy shit, Moose. And I thought I was the fuckboy," he mutters, letting out a low whistle.
"I'm not- no, I'm not fooling around with them! I'm just being friendly," he tries to explain.
"Friendly as in banging friendly?" Max's eyebrows jump up and down, and he elbows his brother in the arm.
Scowling, Moose shuts his eyes and let's out an irritated sigh. "No," he slowly states, "friendly as in friendly. Eleanor is a nice girl, and so is Lucy-" he gets interrupted.
"Lucy? That's her name? Sounds like a-"
"A name," Moose says, glaring at the older boy. "She's fifteen," he tells him, "now can we please drop this?"
"Didn't say we had to keep the conversation going," Max remarks, turning the television volume back up. "No, but really, if you could choose one to f-"
"I thought we were dropping the conversation," Moose interjected, glaring at his brother.
"Okay," Max raises his hands in the air, "I was just asking," he defends, propping his feet up on the black coffee table in front of them. It's silent for a few moments, the only sound coming from the television, and then he asks, "Does she at least have your number?"
Letting out an irritated huff, Moose nods his head. "Yeah, she has my number," he replies. Hearing the front door open, he turns his head and spots his dad walking into their house. "Hey," he mutters, watching as Devin, their father, shakes off his shoes.
"Hey," he tiredly replies, hanging his coat on the coat hanger. "Shouldn't you guys be in bed?" He questions, walking over to the recliner in the corner. He plops down with a sleepy sigh.
"It's only eight," Max retorts, shutting off the TV, "How was work?"
"Rough," Devin groans, "I hate building houses in the winter," he complains, rocking back in the recliner.
"Then quit," Moose says, bringing his knees up to his chest. "You can work in the circus, and Max can be your dancing monkey," he suggests, teasingly.
"That's such a great idea!" Max sarcastically agrees, "Moose can be one of the clowns since he already looks like one, and all."
"Yeah," Devin nods his head, "I'd rather build houses," he remarks, yawning. "Where's Mich?" He questions, looking around.
"On a date upstairs," Moose pipes up, crossing his arms over his chest, "with her third boyfriend this month."
"What's his name?" Their father asks with a raised eyebrow.
"Hunter-" Moose gets interrupted by his brother.
"No, they broke up yesterday," Max states, shaking his head, "She's dating some kid named John, or something."
"They've probably already gotten into an argument, and decided that they weren't going to work out," Moose states, slumping his shoulders, knowing that his sister's boyfriend is going to be walking down the staircase in an hour or two, looking sad.
"Hey, now, let's quit talking bad about your sister. She's probably going through some sort of phase," Devin says, holding out his hand. "Give me the remote," he demands.
Throwing the remote over to his dad, Max replies, "Yeah, like all our phases. You remember Moose's? He had, like, what? Ten girlfriends, once."
Rolling his eyes, Moose let's a stupid smile fall on his face. "Listen, I was ten. I don't even count them as real relationships," he tells them.
"So," Max snorts, "you were a ladies man," he sings, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Sure," Moose laughs, and punches his brother's arm. "Remember that phase you went through where you dyed your hair different colors every month to impress that one emo girl? Yeah, me too," he says.
"I was fifteen!" Max gasps out, kicking Moose in the leg. "I was immature, and did not have good taste in women."
"What are you talking about?" Moose questions with a raised eyebrow, "Emo's can be pretty hot," he states, smirking.
"Is that why you like Eleanor?" Max remarks, a spark in his eye.
"Dude," Moose begins, "I don't even know her. How could I like her?" He inquires, a flat look forming on his face.
"Okay," Their father interrupts their up coming argument, "We're finished with this conversation," he scolds, trying to be punctual with each word.
Letting out an irritated huff, Moose feels his phone vibrate on his leg. He turns it on, and sees that it's a message from an unknown number. Opening it up, he stares at the text message, his stomach flipping.
276-686-4089 (8:16):
Try something new, like, a hip song, or something.
Moose furrows his eyebrows, and then receives another one.
276-686-4089 (8:16):
This is El, by the way.
He grins down at his phone, saves her number, and then sends her a quick text back.
Moose (8:17):
Thanks for the advise, and for texting me, even though you said you deleted my number.
Waiting for a bit, he gets up and walks past the staircase and over to his black piano. He let's out a sigh and drops down on the small stool in front of it.
Ella (8:18):
Yeah, oops, I forgot that I lied to you.
Moose rolls his eyes, and sets his phone on the ground as he pops his knuckles and stretches. Taking a deep breath, he begins tapping at the white keys, trying not to make any harsh and unskilled sounds.
•|•