The carpet is alive with flashbulbs and whispered speculation. You and Ellie stand close—but not touching. Yet.

She leans slightly your way, lips curling into that teasing smirk that drives headlines and you a little insane.

Reporter #1: “Ellie! Y/N! What can you tell us about the photos of you two in that black SUV last week?”

Ellie lifts a brow. Ellie (cool as hell): “Oh? You mean the one where she’s mocking my tragic playlist? Yeah. Guilty.”

You laugh under your breath, eyes twinkling.

Reporter #2: “So… you were together? Off set?”

Ellie glances at you, something charged behind her teasing tone.

Ellie: “She needed a ride. I gave her one. That’s what friends do… right?”

You (playing along, voice low): “Very close friends.”

Then—

Reporter #3 (bold as hell): “Close friends? We saw a photo of you two kissing. In the car. Care to comment?”

A flash of silence. The air cracks with tension.

Ellie doesn’t even blink. She turns to you slowly, one corner of her mouth rising. Then—she leans just close enough for the mics to catch:

Ellie (softly, with heat): “Should we comment, babe? Or should we just… let them wonder?”