Stranded

7

CHAPTER SEVEN 

❝ Strangers knocking on doors when it is heavily snowing outside can be quite scary. Especially if the house you are in happens to be on the top of a hill... and in the middle of the woods. ❞

Elle's journal: The Europe Trip, day 12, entry nº3

The man came by around noon.

Before that happened, though, Stelle sat knitting by the fireplace and Elle and Connor cooked lunch.

"I think that is not supposed to look like that," Elle said, peering over Connor's shoulder to look at the spaghetti he was making.

He shrugged, spinning the spoon inside the pot. "It looks good to me."

"It's overcooked. And it looks like dough," she said. She quickly took a fork and stole one strand, letting it fall into her mouth. "Oh, God," she grimaced. "It actually tastes like dough."

Connor groaned and dropped the spoon. "This is stupid."

"Let me guess. You are that type of college guy that gets all his meals from a vending machine."

Connor rolled his eyes at her. "Of course I am," he said. Then, he took the fork from Elle's hand and pulled out another strand of spaghetti. "Come on," he said, letting it fall into his mouth. "It can't be that...Bloody h–Okay, maybe it actually is that bad."

Elle laughed and Connor took the pot and threw all of the contents into the bin. As soon as he was done, Elle took the pot from him.

"So we don't have to throw away any more food," she told him and he laughed. As she began gathering ingredients, a new thought crossed her mind. "What are you studying in school, anyways?"

"Why the sudden interest?" Connor asked, leaning on the counter, raising his eyebrows and smiling weirdly.

Elle frowned. "Are you trying to look sexy?"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "Maybe."

She rolled her eyes at him and decided to just ignore him.

Connor chuckled. "I'm a History major," he explained, handing her the new spaghetti package.

"Really?" Elle asked, all of her attention on Connor.

Him? A History major?

"Well you don't look surprised at all."

"I'm sorry..." Elle said, shaking her head. "I just didn't picture you as someone who liked school. Or learning."

"Well that makes it better," he said sarcastically. "And by the way, I hated school."

"Really?"

"Yeah. That is exactly why I'm studying History and not Archeology. I want to be a teacher. And a good one. The minor in Psychology is supposed to help with that."

"Psychology?" Elle asked, all the little pieces she had about Connor suddenly falling into place.

"You shouldn't be that surprised about that one."

"No. Actually, I'm not." And she really wasn't.

Connor was about to add something else when a loud knock on the door echoed through the small house. Connor and Elle frowned, and they walked into the living room to see a confused Stelle opening the door.

On the other side of it stood an Eskimo. Or he might as well been, since he was wearing a large, thick parka. His head was outlined by a bunch of fur that hardly allowed to see his face clearly. All Elle could distinguish where two slanted eyes and a small nose.