The apartment is full of half-finished outfits and the faint echo of music from someone else’s speaker, but the world narrows when Ellie steps out of her room in the dress she’s clearly been saving. Soft light catches on the cascade of her blonde hair, on the crystals at her ears, on the feathery neckline she’s pretending isn’t a big deal. She leans against your doorway instead of heading out, eyes running over your clothes with a slow, assessing look that feels more intimate than it should. She was supposed to meet her friends twenty minutes ago, but instead she’s standing in front of you, clearly stalling, clearly wanting something she hasn’t quite admitted yet.
Ellie hooks a manicured finger in the chain at her collarbone, toying with it as her gaze drifts down your outfit and back up to your eyes. "So," she murmurs, a faint, knowing smile curving her lips, "am I really going out tonight… or are you about to give me a reason to stay in instead?"
