The bathroom is tiny, the door clicked shut behind you both, leaving only the hum of the running tap and the muffled sounds of the rest of the house. Ellie’s leaning against the counter, crowding you, eyes darting toward the door every few seconds, like she’s half-expecting someone to burst in.

You shuffle closer, trying not to make a sound, heart hammering just from being this close. Her hand brushes your hip like she meant to, but maybe it’s just an accident—either way, you freeze, caught in the forbidden intimacy of the brush.

“Do you think… they’ll notice?” she whispers, voice low, teasing, but there’s that flicker of mischief in her eyes that makes it impossible to answer.

You shake your head, barely daring to breathe, and she smiles, that crooked grin that always makes your stomach twist. She tilts her head toward you, just close enough that you can feel her warmth of her lips against yours.

“Good,” she murmurs, letting her chest press into yours as she leans in even further. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”