She is Not Made of Roses

eleven: just so you all know, we are proceeding with the mariah carey theme

ELEVEN: JUST SO YOU ALL KNOW, WE ARE PROCEEDING WITH THE MARIAH CAREY THEME

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“SO BASICALLY, YOU’RE telling me that you – Aurora Cooper – want to go out…with me?”

And Aurora bites her tongue, so desperate to just run away. But she knows it’s not the thing to do, especially when she knows her relationship with Rosie is on the line. And though Elijah is obviously disgusting – his breath reeks of peanut butter, like, always, and his hair is matted and his face looks like the craters on the moon – but he’s no where near as bad as the alternative.

But she believes that perhaps the worst thing about the entire situation, rather, was that—

Well, Raj was right.

“Yeah,” she says through gritted molars. She leans over the auditorium seats during their Intro to Theatre Class as Nicole Eller gets her brief moment to shine, wishing hopefully that Mrs. Monson might just call her up and free her from this awkward situation. “I was just thinking that maybe we could…well, hang out, or something?”

Elijah furrows his brown, obviously suspicious. “But…you hate me.”

Aurora tries to fake a look of shock. “What? That’s ridiculous,” she says, appalled. “What on earth would ever make you think I hated you?”

He frowns, his jaw locked stubbornly in a confused pout, “Well…you told me yourself, remember? Like, right after we banged.”

She nearly throws up at the way Elijah says “banged.”

Trying hard to compose herself, she nods, “Well…I may have exchanged a few…um, choice, words with you”—she straightens her back, holding her head high—“but I promise, I don’t hate you. I was just…well, confused about my real feelings for you.”

And though he must admit that he’s a bit confused, the edges of his lips begin to creep up into a smile. “Is that so?”

Aurora, again, has to hold her lunch down. She can hear Nicole Eller wailing about something concerning the incompetence of the rest of the crew, and she wishes for the first time in history that she could be among them. Instead, she nods, pressing her lips so tight it’s hard to manage a single word out, “…Yes,” she says. “Yeah, it is.”

Elijah leans back in his seat, where all of a sudden a stalk of celery seems to manifest itself in his hands. “Well,” he drawls, pulling out a to go sized container of Skippy’s peanut butter from his backpack. “I have to say, I always knew you’d come crawling back.”

And though whatever shred of dignity Aurora has is rapidly fading away, she can’t help but snap back at least a bit. “Excuse me, but crawling?”

But Elijah’s not listening. Scooping an unnaturally large amount of peanut butter onto his celery stalk, he nods, “Yep. I knew you’d be back,” he says, turning back around to gaze at her condescendingly. “Who could dare forget that magical night we spent together, spent under the soggy wooden ceiling planks of the Poughkeepsie Sleep-Away Camp for Aspiring Actors?”

Aurora scowls, “Firstly, it wasn’t magical. I had just drank my weight in vodka. Secondly, we were in a canoe. And thirdly, it lasted for like, three minutes.”

He takes a savage bite from his celery, nodding reminiscently, “And what a lovely three minutes they were – and that, coupled by my charm, well” – he smirks – “it was only just a matter of time before my charm had you coming right back to good ol’ Elijah Sodapop Hollis?”