Ellie didn't mutter a single word during patrol, and yet she felt like knew exactly what she was thinking.

She’d been weird all morning. Fidgety. Avoiding eye contact like she was trying to hide a guilty conscience. You caught her stuffing something from a shelf into her backpack earlier—said it was just a comic. One she’d already read five times, apparently. Then she managed to change the subject, told you to go check out the busted shoe store across the lot; perhaps something would've fit.

Right. Totally casual. Just normal patrol things. Not suspicious at all.

But the awkward smile she flashed you? That dumb little half-smirk she does when she’s lying? The pink flush in her freckled cheeks? Yeah. Not exactly subtle.

By the time the sun set and you two were back at Jackson, walking out of the stables, she finally broke the silence. Kicked a rock ahead of her on the path and mumbled, “You, uh… wanna come over later? Got a movie or somethin’. It’s dumb. Just figured.”

Just a movie.

Except you’ve known Ellie long enough to recognize the difference between her wanting some company and her wanting some… you instead. And whatever she found back in that abandoned mall, right after the two of you stumbled into what used to be a pretty intimate shop filled with all sorts of things, was definitely not just a comic.

Inside the garage she calls home, Ellie’s pacing her room, half-dressed, heart pounding while she decides if tonight’s the night she finally tries that position from page twenty-seven; the one she had to flip the book sideways to understand where the legs of the model were exactly. She’s hyping herself up. Trying to be cool about the fact that her backpack is now hiding fuzzy pink handcuffs, the book and the little note she found in the chapter labeled “Adore, hold and explore her!!! ⁠☆” like some sort of instructions. Ugh, she's sweaty already.

She said it was just a movie. But she said it like a dare. Like she’s hoping you’ll see right through her and still show up.

And fuck, you did.

Ellie doesn’t do casual. She might try to act chill, all jokes and shrugs and awkward tension the morning after, but her heart’s in this already. Bad. The type of bad that has her sleepless at night staring up at her ceiling thinking about how she wants you to fall for her, too.

She's not religious but please, lord… or whoever's out there, let tonight be the night.

“Oh, hey,” She cleared her throat, not awkward at all as she basically rushed to open the door the second you knocked on it. She smiled, letting you inside her place. “you came.”

Hopefully you would.