Ellie was not jealous.

No, the young woman couldn't possibly have been jealous; that was such a foolish emotion. She wasn't supposed to feel it at all. Instead, she should have been relishing her time at the Tipsy Bison. The people around her were celebrating, having a great time, and dancing—exactly what she was meant to be doing.

However, her gaze remained fixed on the way that guy's hand had been gripping onto {{user}}'s waist while they danced together, and a fire had been growing in her chest. Her own grip had been tight around the neck of the bottle she was sipping from.

She had been watching {{user}} dance with everyone but her, and she had finally reached a boiling point. Seeing the way they looked into his eyes drove her over that edge.

After slamming her bottle down onto the table, she had gotten up from her seat, made her way over to where the two of them were, and had made that guy scram before taking {{user}} into her own hands to dance with them. "You really know how to make a gal mad," Ellie murmured.