Stranded

3

Fanart on the side by the amazing @eliyat :)

CHAPTER THREE

❝ Apparently, British boys who think that just because they are handsome they get to be rude, can also be charming when they want to. And that... well, that can be useful sometimes. ❞

Elle's journal: The Europe Trip, day 9, entry nº4

Strand was small.

Like really, really small.

And it certainly wasn't what Elle had been expecting. Not that she had actually been expecting anything, but still.

Strand was a conjunction of small wooden houses –that looked more like cabins– located between a tall and empowered forest. Elle felt like she was in summer camp... except that it was winter.

"What now?" she asked Connor.

"Now we knock on doors," he replied.

❄

Thirty minutes. They had been walking around under the snow for thirty minutes and they still had nothing.

"At this rate we are going to run out of houses," Elle said, trying to make her voice sound calm and collected but failing miserably at it.

They had been asking house by house if they could stay in for the night, but no one was willing to take a couple of foreigners into their homes, or already had. An old woman had even yelled at them because they woke her up. They had been attacked by a very small poodle that then bit Connor's shoe. A man had threatened on calling the police if they didn't leave his property. Another had actually pointed at them with his gun. They had even been referred to as a "really cute couple", but that hadn't been enough for them to get a roof for the night. Not even after they tried to act like one.

"This is useless. We might as well just spend the night here," Elle complained as she sat down on a snowed bench.

"Here?" her companion asked. Connor was still looking around, searching for someplace they hadn't seen, someplace they hadn't thought of.

"Would you just stop?" Elle yelled at him, not really sure why.

He turned around to stare blankly at her.

"Stop?" he asked. "You mean give up?"

"Yes!" she kept yelling. She had never been the type of person who yelled, but she had been doing a lot of things she didn't normally do lately, so it didn't really surprise her that much. "Yes, I mean give up," she added, her voice lower, defeated. "Why won't you just give up?"

"Because I don't," he said and then began walking again.

Elle couldn't understand him. Why was he so stubborn? Why didn't he falter, even if it was just for a second. She knew they couldn't give up, that was obvious. But the fact that he kept going despite how bad everything seemed to be going, made her feel weak. That was exactly what she had done.

When her aunt died, she run away.

When her trip hadn't gone as planed, she decided to go back, give up.

And now that she couldn't find a place to stay, she was ready to do it again.

Elle sighed as she stared at Connor's back. She was sure he was leaving her behind; after all, she had been acting like a pain in the ass ever since they met. To her surprise, though, he hadn't walked more than a few feet when he turned around.

"Aren't you coming, tough girl?" he yelled.

Elle smiled. Apparently, he wasn't going to give up on her either.

"Okay," she whispered, knowing that he wouldn't hear her. She wasn't talking to him anyways. Not really. So she stood up, this time a little straighter, and followed him.

❄ 

Elle and Connor walked into a small bar. Like everything else in that place, it was made of wood. Unlike everything else, though, that cabin was painted a dark purple. The name of the bar was written in black bold letters on a hanging piece of wood. In Between Mist, it read, each letter with dripping paint, as if it had been painted after the wood had been hung up. It almost looked like the setting for the perfect horror movie.

"How ironic," Connor whispered after reading the name of the place.

He pushed the heavy door open and waited for Elle to walk in before following behind. Despite the dim lighting, the inside of the bar didn't look quite as scary as the outside. Perfectly arranged tables covered the room and a jukebox played a Julie London song on the distance. Behind the counter, a man that seemed to be in his mid-fifties was polishing glasses. The wall behind him was covered with many colourful bottles of different liquors, and the light that reflected on them created a rainbow disco ball effect on that side of the room.

The man looked tired, and he didn't bother looking up when he heard the two teenagers walk in. "I'm sorry, but we're closed, so get the hell out of my bar," he said, his eyes on the glass in his hands.

Elle and Connor looked at each other trying to figure out what to do.

"Please, Sir," Elle begged with a tired sigh. "Just give us two seconds to–"

"No."

Elle was already turning around when Connor caught her wrist.

"Sir, our plane is stuck here and we need a place to stay. I promise you won't even know we were here," the boy said. "We'll leave as early as you want us to and make no noise at all."

The man didn't seem to be giving the situation any thought at all. He looked so mad Elle was sure he was about to shatter the glass he had in his hand.

"We can even help you clean," Connor proposed, and for a second, the man seemed to consider the option. He glanced at the glass he had in his hand for a few seconds and then, with a grunt, nodded.

"Okay, but I want you two gone before seven," he said and threw the tea towel at them. With a fast move, Connor caught it, and Elle could see he was trying really hard to hold back his triumphant smile.

"And don't even dare trying something funny down here!" the owner barked at them. "If I wake up and anything is gone..." he said, leaving the rest of his threat to the imagination.

He waited for Elle and Connor to nod before disappearing up the wooden stairs.

"What is he going to do? Call law enforcement?" Connor whispered as he rolled his eyes. He walked towards the counter and threw his duffel bag in one of the stools before walking towards the sink.

"Law enforcement?" Elle questioned with a chuckle. She left her suitcase next to the counter and walked up next to him.

"Yeah, you know..." he said, but her eyebrows were still raised, so he added, "the police?"

Elle laughed. "Of course I know what law enforcement is," she said. "I just don't know anyone under 60 who says that."

"Funny" Connor complained, throwing the towel at her face. "Come on," he said as he took the sponge. "We have some plates to wash and glasses to polish."

When they were almost ready, they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. They turned to see the owner of the bar walking towards them.

"Here," he said, throwing a pair of pillows and two sleeping bags on the floor. "Sleep. Now. And stop making noise," he ordered and then began walking up the stairs again. "And remember, don't you dare do anything. My wife might feel sorry for you but I'm not as nice as her," he said and disappeared.

Elle and Connor looked at each other for a few seconds and then burst into uncontrollable laughter. It wasn't until they heard the owner yelling something that they both shut up and quickly got into the sleeping bags.