33 | laconic

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laconic (adj.)

expressing much in few words

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AS soon as school let out, Eli dragged me to the parking lot with the intent of forcing me into his car.

Ever since I had revealed that I was scared of driving in the snow, he had been weirdly overprotective of me and offered to drive me everywhere. It was a sweet gesture, but I felt weird about him being my chauffeur; he had better things to do than drive me wherever I needed to go.

In the school parking lot, we had our first squabble in months about me wanting to drive separately to the diner. It was only sleeting, and I'd be fine alone, but Eli was concerned about me. I ultimately won, but he tailgated me the entire way to Mo's.

"You survived," he exclaimed as we met on the sidewalk.

"Yes, I survived. I'm not an incompetent driver, just a scared one."

He muttered something that sounded an awful lot like "my neighbor's mailbox disagrees."

"What'd you say?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets as we walked in the door. "Nothing."

"Good answer," I deadpanned.

He took me by the hand and dragged me to the corner booth by the jukebox—the same booth Ben and I sat at during our weekly lunches. I felt my lips curl into a smile as I slid into the familiar worn-down booth.

"What's so funny?"

"Hmm?"

"You're smirking." He folded his hands on the table and leaned in. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, uh... nothing, really. I just saw something that reminded me of one time Ben and I came here."

"You went out with Ben? Alone?"

"Yeah. A few months ago."

He pursed his lips, a sour look marring his face. "I didn't know you hang out with Ben."

A few times a week, but he didn't need to know that... "So, what are you getting?" I asked, trying to distract him with the prospect of food.

"Oreo milkshake, obviously," he grinned.

Mission accomplished.

I set the menu down. "I guess I will, too."

"Good, 'cause I was gonna order you one regardless."

"So, uh, I have something to tell you," I began, fidgeting with the sugar packets on the table.

"Shoot," he said, leaning forward in anticipation.

"I, uh—"

"Hello, my name is Betty," our waitress interrupted me. "I'll be taking care of you guys this afternoon. Can I start you off with something to drink?"

"We're actually ready to order. Two Oreo milkshakes and a large fries to share, please," Eli said.

"Alrighty," she replied, scribbling on her notepad. "I'll bring them out as soon as it's ready."

Eli turned back to me. "So, what were you saying?"

I took a deep breath in preparation for his reaction. "I got an email. Well, I got two emails. From Copley and Revere, that is. But you already know about the Copley one. I didn't tell you about the Revere one. And I'm rambling, so you probably know where this is about to go."

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