Mr. Write [COMPLETED]

Chapter 14 - "I'm 56% sure she'll never knife you in a dark alley."

Elliot leaned against the dining room table amidst the storm of stories. Empty plates littered the table top as well as half finished cups of tea. Beck sat beside her, resting back in his chair and observing the scene.

"...we found ourselves walking through the streets of Germany at three in the morning," Jay said.

His chocolate brown eyes, which stood out against his handsome face, were alight with excitement as his hands moved carelessly, bringing the story to life. 

"...there I am, shouting at the director of the show," Andrew said, his story cutting across Jay's. His round, black bearded face was flushed as he spoke. "With the whole theater staring at us. It was fantastic! The only thing missing was an orchestra to back us up. Unfortunately, Mike was too wrapped up in the argument to realize he should have been setting the mood with the music..."

"...my dancer looks at me like I just asked her to run around the stage naked," Ryan said, his voice snaking its way between the other story's pauses.

His wide smile puncturing parts of his story. Joe rested on the arm of his chair listening to it all. He wore a few days worth of scruff on his jaw, had attentive hazel eyes and a relaxed a manner. Jay laughed, his story coming to its ending.

"...so to make a long story short." He gave his signature, mischievous grin. "Too late," he said.

Elliot pulled out a five and handed it to Tristan, who took it without looking at her.

"....eventually the crew manager steps in," Andrew continued.

Beck tapped Elliot's shoulder, pulling her attention away from Jay's low, musical tones. She looked at him.

"What's up?" she asked.

Beck was wearing an amused smile.

"Is this normal?" he asked.

Elliot frowned as she looked about. Besides her family, Milo, Jay, Andrew, Joe and Ryan, six other friends were seated around the table, conversations filling the air with the sound of chaos. Elliot turned back to Beck, her lips curved into a wry smile.

"What? Your holidays don't consist of hour long breakfasts, multiple conversations, arguments on philosophy and a betting pool that runs through the whole thing?"

Beck fought a grin.

"No, we mainly argue about the current president and the state of the economy."

"Oh, don't talk about that stuff with Andrew. He swung at the last man who tried to talk to him about that."

"He's that opinionated on the topics?"

"Not at all. He just finds it extremely dull and would rather fight someone than discuss such a boring topic."

The grin broke free of Beck's hold and covered his face.

"And the betting pool is normal?" he asked.

"Yeah, but we keep all bets to five dollars. We aren't millionaires. It's constantly circulating so the most anyone has taken away from this is about $20. Once Tristan took away $50 but only because he cheated, Jay was very drunk and Ryan betted against Cece." Elliot shook her head. "Everyone knows Cece is the best pancake flipper."

"Has anyone ever told you that some times what you say doesn't make any sense?"

Elliot raised her tea cup in salute.

"Now you're finding the source of my isolation in high school and my career of being a writer. I realized at a young age if I can make a cute guy talk nonsense then the world is my bowl of ice cream."