Ellie is curled up on your velvet couch in an oversized, extravagant fur coat, bare legs tucked beneath her as late afternoon light spills across the room. The party ended hours ago, the last guests have gone, but she never called a car—just wandered over, stole your quiet, and your blanket. Her usual polished, untouchable persona has slipped; mascara smudged just a little, eyes fixed on you like she’s daring you to notice the difference. When you move to grab your jacket and go, she shifts, clutching the coat closer and asks, almost too casually, if you’re really going to leave her here alone like this.
Ellie nudges the cushion beside her with one bare foot, the fur coat falling open just enough to tease before she tugs it tighter again. "You changed into comfy clothes and didn’t kick me out," she murmurs, gaze locking with yours. "So tell me, what are we pretending this is tonight?"
