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isabelckl · 18 days ago

Text

texting loser!ellie that you have nipple piercing in class 5

nerdy loser!ellie x popular mean fem!reader

bored in english, you reply to a girl named E you’ve been talking to on an anonymous gay dating app—without knowing it’s that lesbian nerd girl, ellie williams.

masterlist

“Bitch, you better be joking,” you muttered under your breath, still gripping the steering wheel as you stared wide-eyed at the massive colonial house in front of you.

Ellie raised an eyebrow, already halfway out of the car. “What?”

“You live here?” you blinked at her, completely dumbfounded. “I pass by this house every day. I thought some retired judge or old money CEO lived here. You’re telling me you live here?”

Ellie shut the car door behind her, slinging her backpack over one shoulder. “My grandparents own it,” she said, casual as ever, like the pillars on the porch and the ivy-draped brick weren’t screaming generational wealth.

You followed her up the path, still half in disbelief. “So like… you’re rich-rich?”

Ellie threw a look over her shoulder, half-smirking. “You said that like you’re not.”

“That’s not the point,” you shot back, stepping into the house like you were stepping into a dream. The air smelled like pinewood floors and something faintly floral—clean, expensive, and lived-in. “I loved this house. I’ve loved this house since I was, like, ten. I used to imagine living here.”

Ellie laughed, locking the door behind you. “Yeah? Guess you manifested this group project then.”

You spun slowly where you stood in the foyer, taking everything in. “Shut up. This is insane. I genuinely thought this place belonged to, like, a state senator.”

She shrugged. “Close enough. My grandma’s mean enough to be one.”

Ellie led the way upstairs, the steps solid beneath your feet, the bannister polished to a shine. You trailed behind her, eyes scanning every framed painting and antique light fixture like you were walking through a museum.

She pushed open a door near the end of the hallway and stepped aside. “Uh… make yourself at home, I guess,” she muttered, scratching the back of her neck.

You stepped inside and looked around, slow and curious. It was like walking into Ellie’s brain—quiet, thoughtful, full of little obsessions. The walls were painted a soft sage green that warmed in the late afternoon sun spilling through two wide windows, their white curtains swaying gently in the breeze from a cracked-open pane.

The room was spacious and organized but clearly lived in. A plush, cream-colored sofa sat beneath one of the windows, half-draped with a knitted throw. Nearby was a sleek study desk—minimal but well-used—covered with neat stacks of notebooks, a digital tablet, and a mechanical keyboard that softly glowed. A small but powerful PC setup occupied the far end of the desk, dual monitors angled just right, wallpaper rotating slowly through constellations and galaxies.

You turned slowly, letting your gaze settle on a tall glass cabinet against the far wall. Inside, dozens of small figurines stood in tidy rows—dinosaurs in different colors and sizes, some realistic, some clearly stylized. A few of them had tiny chips on their edges, signs of years of care and collecting rather than neglect. One had a bent tail that made you smile.

“I didn’t know you were this much of a dinosaur girl,” you said.

Ellie was at her closet, kicking off her sneakers. “I was obsessed for a while,” she mumbled.

You moved closer to a nearby shelf, lined with hardcovers—space encyclopedias, sci-fi novels, and what looked like Ellie’s old astronomy notebooks stacked in a row. A small solar system model sat at the end, its planets perfectly aligned. You gently tapped the base and watched them rotate, slow and precise.

“You’re, like… a full-blown space nerd.”

Ellie shrugged, half-smiling. “I like stars. And planets. And stuff.”

In the corner rested a black acoustic guitar on a mahogany stand, a patterned strap loosely draped over it. Next to it, under the windowsill, sat a low wooden crate filled with vinyl records, their covers carefully arranged. A small speaker setup stood nearby, connected to a vintage-looking turntable.

You smiled as you traced your finger along the edge of a record sleeve. “I didn’t expect this.”

Ellie raised a brow. “What’d you expect?”

You looked around again. “I don’t know.”

That made her smile, just a little. “You saying you’re impressed?”

You shrugged. “Maybe.”

You let your eyes roam one more time—across the sunlight on the hardwood floors, the cabinet of dinosaurs, the calm glow of her screen-saver, the way everything felt exactly like her—and then turned to her.

Still smiling, but with a slight shift in your tone. “Will you marry me someday, Ellie?”

Ellie blinked. A beat passed. Her brows pulled together in that way she had when she was trying to tell if you were serious.

“No.” She frowned softly.

You scoffed, placing a hand over your chest. “Ouch.”

Ellie cracked a smile, dropped her bag beside the bed, and flopped down onto the mattress like she was trying not to look at you. “You just want the house.”

“Obviously.” You sat at the edge of her bed, fingers brushing lightly over one of the velvet pillows. “I’d treat her so well.”

“She’s not a person.”

“She’ll be everything to me.”

Ellie glanced at you, shaking her head with a barely-there grin.

Working with Ellie for the past week had actually been… easy. Surprisingly easy, if you were being honest.

She’d disagree with your ideas sometimes—always with that slight squint of her eyes, arms crossed like she was mentally sorting through what she was about to say. But she always heard you out first. Every time. Even when she clearly thought your suggestion was insane. Especially when it was insane.

Except that one time you suggested writing the entire novel in second person, with multiple timelines and unreliable narrators. She didn’t even entertain that one. Just stared at you for a full three seconds before muttering, “God help me,” and going back to outlining the plot like she hadn’t heard you at all.

Aside from that, though, she was surprisingly agreeable. Focused and quiet, unless she was explaining something or making a snarky comment.

And oh, she's incredibly easy to pick on.

You’d learned that by day two.

There was something about the way she always lined up her pens or re-highlighted things that were already highlighted—little habits that made it way too tempting to mess with her. Like when you started moving her bookmarks just an inch to the left every time she wasn’t looking.

She noticed. She always noticed.

“The hell is wrong with you?” she whispered once in the middle of class, narrowing her eyes as she fixed it for the third time that day.

You had just smiled sweetly. “Just keeping you on your toes.”

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, and didn’t speak to you for the entire English class that followed, even though you sat directly beside her.

It kind of became your thing after that—poking just enough to get a reaction, then spending the rest of the day slowly earning her tolerance back.

Not that she ever seemed really mad. She’d roll her eyes, tell you to shut up, shove her sleeve over her mouth like she was hiding a smile. And by the time your next meeting rolled around, she’d be exactly the same again—pen in hand, posture stiff, pretending not to look at you first.

Ellie had barely set her laptop down before saying she was going to grab snacks.

“Be right back,” she mumbled, tugging her hoodie sleeves over her hands as she left the room.

You nodded, watching her disappear down the hallway.

The door clicked shut behind her, and the silence felt sudden. The occasional creak from the hallway. Afternoon light painting golden lines across the floor.

You pulled your phone from your pocket and tapped it awake.

Still nothing.

You opened your last conversation with E, thumb hovering over the screen.

you:

i kinda don’t want to have lunch today.. but i also haven’t had breakfast whatever

That was hours ago. And E hadn’t even left you on read—just nothing at all.

Your eyes scanned the rest of the thread—long, tired little chains of conversation that started somehow and never really ended. Late-night check-ins. Stupid memes in the morning. A “good luck” before class. Each photo you sent—whether it was your face half-buried in a hoodie, a thigh pic under your desk in class, or a cropped mirror shot angled just right to show your waist, the subtle curve of skin beneath your shirt—always got something back.

Sometimes even the ones where your top had slipped lower, nipples visible, the tiny glint of silver from your piercings catching in the light.

But it was the fics that really did it.

The smutty ones. The dog-eared AO3 screenshots, annotated with unhinged commentary, sent half-laughing, half-serious. “ok but imagine this is us?”

And she would bite. Every time.

“You’re sick for this.”

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I’m gonna dream about this tonight.”

She made it easy to keep wanting her. Easy to overshare. Easy to feel like you were wanted right back.

Talking to E had really become your favorite part of the day. A kind of warmth that reached into quiet parts of you no one else did. And it wasn’t even about what she said, always—it was just her. The feeling of being known by someone who didn’t ask for the clean version of you.

But sometimes, you notice the pattern.

The way she disappeared and went quiet. Left just enough space between replies to make you feel like maybe you were doing too much.

Or not enough.

Something in her tone that made you reread it three times and still not be sure if she was pulling away or just tired.

You didn’t want to be the kind of person who obsessed over gray bubbles and silence. But here you were.

Thumb hovering again.

Typing. Deleting.

You locked the screen.

Ellie’s door opened a second later, followed by the rustle of a grocery bag and her voice—low and casual.

“Okay. I didn’t know what you wanted so I grabbed, like… every snack we had. And also a root beer I will probably not share.”

You turned in your seat, slipping your phone face-down onto the desk.

“That’s fair,” you said, smiling like nothing was stuck behind your teeth.

Ellie kicked the door shut behind her and dropped the snacks on the bed. “Also, if you eat all the cheddar popcorn, we’re done. That’s, like, the one boundary I have.”

You snorted. “Good to know you’re finally opening up.”

She raised a brow. “One time. One time I tell you I liked dinosaurs and you’re never letting it go.”

You grinned. “Never.”

You set your laptop on your lap, fingers hovering over the keys as you waited for it to wake. She’d claimed the sofa across from you, legs folded under her, root beer cracked open with a soft sound.

You glanced up for a second—just long enough to watch her sip it, the can tipped lazily to her lips, her focus already buried in the screen.

Your eyes flicked back to your phone, opening your conversation with E last night.

i feel like you wear perfume just to ruin lives

you:

maybe i do. maybe i want your life ruined a little

ok relax dark temptress

you:

say that again. slower

shut up

you:

ur blushing

i literally am

you:

i win

i’m blocking you

you:

you always say that u never do it though ur obsessed

it’s disgusting how right you are

A grin tugged at your lips before you could stop it.

Ellie glanced up briefly from her screen, root beer still in hand. “What.”

You shook your head quickly, too quick. “Nothing.”

She gave you a suspicious look. “You’re smiling like a creep.”

You tucked your phone under your thigh and lifted your laptop slightly. “No I’m not.”

“You are,” she said, dry. “If you start giggling and kicking your feet I’m unplugging the router.”

You snorted. “Let a girl have her delusions.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, but there was the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth. She turned back to her laptop and tapped a few keys, half-muttering, “Insufferable.”

You didn’t respond.

Instead, you unlocked your phone again and snapped a quick pic of you, laptop on your legs, lips curved in the softest almost-smile. The light was warm and flattering. Your hair is a little messy.

you:

im at my classmate’s house rn 😗 working on a thing

You hit send and waited, thumb hovering over the screen just a little longer than necessary. Nothing yet.

Across from you, Ellie’s brows flicked up—so quick you almost missed it. She's looking at her laptop like she’d just gotten a notification. But she didn’t say anything, didn’t look up. She quietly shifted slightly in her seat, set her root beer down, and kept typing.

So you went back to work too.

Or tried to.

You clicked into the doc, reread the last paragraph you wrote twice, pretended to focus. But your eyes kept drifting—screen, phone, screen again. The silence started to feel heavier.

You opened the chat again.

you:

i miss u :( wife

You didn’t mean to stare at it that long. But you did. You just… sat there, screen dimming, thumb tracing over the side of the phone.

You didn’t really notice you were zoning out until you sighed—long, quiet, maybe just loud enough for Ellie to hear. She didn’t say anything. But a few seconds later, she stood.

“I’m gonna go get something,” she said.

You looked up. “Okay,” you said, voice soft and low.

She grabbed her phone from the table before walking out.

You sat there for a moment, blinking. Feeling the quiet settle again, too deep this time. Hating the way the room suddenly felt too big.

Then—

A buzz.

You scrambled for your phone.

i miss u too :( sorry just a bit busy with school stuff

The smile hit you before you could stop it.

you:

oh no don’t be sorry i totally understand hehe but don’t overwork yourself too much, okay? save some energy for me 🫶

You didn’t even look up when Ellie walked back in.

But if you had, you would’ve caught her pausing at the door—glancing over at you, then down at her screen before moving again. Like she wasn’t sure which part of her day she was more interested in.

You tried to focus on working again. Really, you did. Fingers moved over the keyboard, screen glowing softly, but your eyes kept drifting—just slightly—to your phone resting on the table. Still nothing new. Still sitting there, like it wasn’t driving you quietly insane.

Across from you, Ellie had settled further into the sofa, her posture loose now. Laptop resting on her legs, hoodie sleeves bunched around her wrists. Her fingers clicked quietly against the keyboard, jaw soft with focus, root beer can now abandoned beside her.

You glanced at her once—just once—before biting your bottom lip and reaching for your phone again.

you:

do u wanna see me again?

You stared at the message for a second longer than you should’ve. Feeling the weight of it in your chest—hopeful and maybe a little reckless.

And then, without waiting for a reply, something tugged at your lips. An idea. The kind you didn’t bother talking yourself out of.

You stood, placing your laptop gently on the table.

“I’m gonna go use the bathroom,” you said, casual.

Ellie looked up, blinking like she hadn’t realized you’d moved. “Uh, sure—it’s just in the corner.” Her chin tilted toward the far end of the room, gesturing toward a white-painted door.

“Thanks.” You smiled, trying to keep it innocent, even as something smug curled under your words. You turned, walking off toward the door, heartbeat a little quicker now.

And behind you, you didn’t notice the way Ellie’s eyes followed you, lips caught gently between her teeth, wondering what exactly you were about to do.

You stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind you, the soft click of the latch sounding louder in the stillness. The mirror greeted you with your own reflection—flushed cheeks, slightly messy hair, eyes too full of something unspoken.

You set your phone on the sink and stared at yourself for a moment, lips twitching at the corners. You started posing—hands on your waist, a little tilt of your head, a soft pout. You ran your fingers through your hair, gave the mirror a wink, then laughed under your breath.

Off came the blouse—baby pink, loose and soft—leaving you in a delicate lace bra that matched your skirt a little too well. You leaned on the sink, bit your lip, and snapped a few mirror shots. Nothing too posed. Just enough.

A short clip followed—hair tousled, your hand brushing it back while you grinned at your own reflection. Just a second of warmth and soft vanity.

You selected your favorites and sent them.

you:

here’s for ur hard work today ;) hope u like it

Before heading out of the bathroom, you typed out one last message:

you:

i’m gonna go focus now on our work my partner’s gonna kill me for being on my phone too much talk to u later 💋💋

You slipped your phone into your pocket, still grinning. When you opened the door, the smile softened—for a moment you just frowned, noticing the room was empty.

Ellie wasn’t there. Her laptop sat open on the coffee table, casting a faint glow over the sofa cushions.

You crossed the room, then straightened, deciding to find her.

“Ellie?” you called, voice low. The hallway answered with silence. Sock-footed, you drifted past closed doors, the house somehow too quiet.

Downstairs, you hesitated at the landing, then turned toward the kitchen.

Ellie stood at the sink, hoodie tossed onto the nearby table. She was in a black tank top now, shoulders taut, biceps flexed slightly as she braced both hands on the edge of the basin. A glass of water rested beside her. She bowed her head, then lifted it toward the wide window, as though trying to breathe.

“Ellie?” you tried again, softer.

She startled, fingers closing around the glass—only for it to slip from her grip and crash to the tile, water splashing everywhere.

“Shit,” she hissed, crouching.

“Don’t—” You hurried forward. “Let me. You’ll cut yourself.”

She froze, still crouched, hands hovering above the shards before pulling back. She didn’t look at you—or more like she couldn’t.

You grabbed a cloth, knelt, and gathered the larger pieces. Ellie straightened, leaning into the counter, her gaze fixed on a spot far ahead.

Glass disposed of, puddle mopped up, you rose and turned toward her. Her cheeks were tinged pink, jaw a little tight.

“Sorry you had to do that,” she murmured, finally glancing your way.

“It’s fine,” you said, giving a small nod.

You lingered there a second longer, eyes drifting. Ellie still wasn’t looking at you—not really—but you couldn’t help but look at her. The way she was leaning into the counter, arms behind her, her black tank top clinging to the curve of her shoulders. Her arms were more toned than you expected. Defined in a way that caught the light when she shifted, muscles flexing under skin.

You didn’t raise your brows, didn’t let your face say anything, but the thought crept in anyway.

She’s kind of… hot.

You cleared your throat softly.

“You okay?” you asked gently. “If you’re not feeling well, we can stop for today.”

She exhaled shakily, finally looking at you again—really looking this time.

Her gaze lingered. And then her lips parted, like she was going to say something else. Instead, she bit down gently on her bottom lip, shook her head, and pushed off the counter to walk past you.

“I’m going crazy,” she muttered under her breath as she brushed by.

You frowned as you followed her.

“You’re so weird, dude,” you muttered.

Ellie didn’t respond. Still in her black tank top and grey sweatpants, she headed upstairs, her shoulders tense. She plopped down on the sofa and pulled her laptop back onto her lap.

You followed her in and sat across from her again, settling your own laptop on your legs. But your eyes didn’t move to the screen just yet. They were on her.

She felt it.

After a few seconds, she finally asked—without looking up, voice too casual.

“What?”

You squinted slightly. “Nothing.”

Why was she suddenly being so weird?

You sighed and slid your laptop toward her, tilting the screen. “Read this.”

Ellie didn’t look at you. She just took it and started reading, her brows knitting together in concentration.

Her eyes scanned the text. Her lashes flicked. Her messy hair fell into her face again—she didn’t bother pushing it back. The scar above her eyebrow tugged faintly when she focused, and the line of freckles across her nose caught the light from the window beside her.

You stared a second too long.

And then looked away—too fast—like something in your chest stirred and you weren’t ready to name it.

You nodded toward the window, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach.

“You ever use that to sneak out?”

“No,” Ellie said, still reading.

“Really? So you don’t sneak out at all?”

“Why would I sneak out?” she replied flatly.

You rolled your eyes. “Right.”

That got her to finally glance up. Brows raising.

You pulled your laptop back and placed it on your lap again. She shifted, eyes dropping back to her own screen.

“What?” she asked. “You’re suddenly interested in my social life now?”

You shrugged. “Just curious.”

You tried to go back to work. Tried. But your cursor blinked beneath a sentence that ended in the word kiss, and your mind trailed off again.

You glanced sideways at her.

“How about dating life?”

Ellie sighed, long and reluctant.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned. “I’m just making conversation. It’s awkward as hell in here.”

Still not looking at you, Ellie leaned back against the sofa, laptop balanced on her knees. “If you’re asking if I’m dating anyone, I’m not.”

You raised your brows. “Really?”

Then, after a beat—leaning in just slightly, eyes glinting—

“What’s your type, then?” you asked, tone casual, but your eyes didn’t leave her.

Ellie scoffed, still focused on her screen. “I hate it when you ask questions like that. It’s creepy.”

You rolled your eyes. “I asked what your type is, not if you believe in ghosts.”

She sighed like you were exhausting her, dragging her fingers across the trackpad. “I don’t know... but it’s definitely someone who isn’t as annoying as you.”

Your mouth fell open. “Fuck you. I’m not annoying. People literally beg to be around me.”

That earned a quiet scoff—like she remembered something, lips twitching faintly, her gaze still fixed on the screen. “Yeah, no. You’re a bitch.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wow,” you muttered, like you were offended—but only a little. You stared at her for a second, then gave a small nod. “Fair.” You looked back down at your screen, typing a few lines just to give your hands something to do.

You turned back to her after a beat like you couldn't help it, wanting to ask something tugging inside your head, and maybe your heart. Your voice was calm but edged with something else.

“If I’m that annoying, would you rather have someone else as your project partner?”

Ellie looked up, finally meeting your eyes, a flicker of amusement breaking through her guarded expression.

“Yes.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Rude.”

You shrugged, settling back in your seat.

“It’s fine. I just know no one else has both an imaginative mind and looks like me. So, your loss, really.”

Ellie hummed, nodding slowly, like she was pretending to be thoughtful.

“Imaginative mind, yeah,” she muttered, eyes still on her screen—but her jaw shifted a little like she was biting back something else. Her mind clearly somewhere else.

You narrowed your eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she said, a little too quickly.

She didn’t look at you. She didn’t have to.

But she could still hear you in her head—your voice in those texts, the unhinged little messages from your secret account, the pictures burned somewhere behind her eyelids. And now you were just… here. Saying things like that. Teasing. Smiling. Still somehow not knowing.

She cleared her throat.

You smirked, just faintly. “Weird.”

Ellie shot you a look. “You’re the weird one.”

You raised a brow, clearly not believing that. But you dropped it for now and just rolled your eyes.

The silence stretched again. Just the quiet sound of keys tapping, the occasional shift of weight on the cushions.

Then Ellie spoke—low, almost too casual.

“How about you?”

You blinked, glancing up. “What?”

Ellie didn’t look away from her screen.

“Your type,” she said. “What is it?”

Your brain stuttered. For a moment, you felt your whole internal system freeze and reboot.

“Oh,” you said, voice a little too light. “I mean…”

You leaned back slightly, trying to play it cool, your fingers toying with the corner of your laptop.

“I guess I like someone smart. Like… nerdy, maybe.” You swallowed. “Not, like, pocket protector-nerdy, just… brainy. Sarcastic. Kinda mean.”

It was stupidly obvious who you were thinking about. E. You were literally just describing her.

Ellie’s eyes flicked up at that. Just for a second. Then back to her screen again.

You didn’t miss it.

You looked down quickly, suddenly shy, and not even sure why. Saying it out loud had felt bolder than you meant for it to. Too revealing. Too… real.

Wait.

Your fingers stilled on your trackpad.

Did I just describe—?

You glanced sideways.

Ellie was quiet, still working, her jaw resting lightly on the back of her hand as she scrolled through the doc. Focused, casual, totally unreadable.

But—

She was definitely a nerd. That much was obvious.

And sarcastic? Always.

Kind of mean? Especially when you teased her. Or suggested something vaguely unhinged to add to the project.

Your eyes drifted to her hands. Sometimes you saw silver rings on her fingers, glinting when she reached for something or tapped her screen. But today, they were bare. Still, you recognized the way her knuckles tensed when she got too focused.

You glanced around the room again—the constellations on her wallpaper, the dinosaur display, the well-loved sci-fi books. Her hoodie still tossed on the table downstairs, abandoned after she came to the kitchen like something had knocked the breath out of her.

Could it be?

You felt your chest tighten at the thought.

No. You shut it down immediately.

It’s impossible.

You bit the inside of your cheek, turning back to your screen like it had all the answers.

Ellie wasn’t like that.

She wasn’t that type.

She wouldn’t be the kind to—

You shook your head, jaw tight.

Stop.

You weren’t going there.

You slumped deeper into the sofa, already getting your phone on the table.

Maybe you were just bored. Or spiraling. Or looking for something you weren’t ready to find.

You opened E’s thread again. Still nothing since earlier. No “💋,” no typing bubble. No read receipt.

You chewed your bottom lip and typed anyway, feeling nervous.

You:

wyd rn

Sent.

Your eyes lifted, straight to Ellie.

She was still perched on the couch, posture relaxed with her laptop on her thighs. No shift in her expression. No glance in your way. Just her fingers moving across the keyboard like she hadn’t even noticed your presence, let alone a text.

You swallowed. Something in your chest tugged—tightly. Not hope. Not exactly. Just dread.

Then your phone buzzed.

ran out for a sec need to walk off this headache lol

You blinked. Without meaning to, your eyes immediately looked up to Ellie again.

Ellie didn’t move. Still typing. Still locked into whatever she was working on.

Another buzz came in.

[Image attachment]

It loaded slowly.

A blurry sidewalk. A lamppost. Empty curb. Gray light stretched thin across cracked pavement.

Your stomach twisted.

You glanced back at Ellie. No change. No tells. Still in the same exact spot, brows drawn in quiet focus.

So… not her.

You let your shoulders relax, barely. A breath slipping out of you before you even realized you were holding it.

And yet—

Why did that feel like disappointment?

The thought didn’t even finish before another crashed in.

What if it had been her?

The idea alone sent a wave of heat and panic flooding up your spine. You tried to shove it down, but it lingered—rising anyway.

You thought about the photos you’d sent. The unfiltered, teasing messages. The fics. The way you flirted like it was a game, like it didn’t mean anything.

The idea that this girl across from you—Ellie, with her freckles and sharp tongue and dinosaur figurines—might’ve been on the receiving end of all of that?

Dread curled sharp in your chest. Embarrassment came right after—fast and bright and cloying. But beneath the dread, buried somewhere in the quiet crackle of your nerves, was something else.

Something you couldn’t name yet.

And that scared you most of all.

You unconsciously turned your attention back to your screen—anything to distract from the way your chest still felt tight.

Your breath caught as you stared at the screen in front of you.

The document was… gone.

One second it was there, the cursor blinking like normal—and the next, just a blank screen. The title still at the top, autosave icon spinning, but no text. Not even a draft in the history.

“Fuck.”

You said it again, louder. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Ellie looked up from her laptop, brows furrowing. “What happened?”

You angled your laptop slightly toward her, panic bubbling in your voice. “I don’t know—I didn’t touch anything. It just… disappeared.”

She didn’t answer. She stood wordlessly and walked over.

You barely had time to scoot forward before she was behind you—standing at the back of the sofa, leaning over. One hand braced lightly against the cushion beside your shoulder, the other already sliding across the trackpad.

You froze.

Her face was close. Closer than it had ever been. You could smell her perfume again—clean and soft, with something sharp underneath. Something citrusy and grounding, like cedar and white musk.

You didn’t mean to look at her, but your eyes flicked sideways.

Her focus was locked on the screen, brows drawn, lips parted just slightly in concentration. Her fingers moved with quick, confident precision across the keys. Her head was tilted down, so close to yours you could feel the whisper of her breath against your cheek every now and then.

You didn’t move. Didn’t dare.

Your own mouth parted—just a bit. The warmth between you was suddenly too real. And too loud.

She didn’t seem to notice.

Her right hand stayed pressed behind you on the couch for balance, close enough to feel the heat of her knuckles. You were caught—body still, heart sprinting, stomach twisted in something you couldn’t quite name.

This was fine.

This was just Ellie fixing the doc.

Except…

Except your mind wasn’t on the laptop anymore.

It was on the curve of her shoulder, the quiet sound of her breathing, the way she looked from this close—freckles soft across her cheek, scar curling slightly over her brow, lashes lowering as she focused.

“It’s fixed,” Ellie said simply, tapping a few final keys before standing like she hadn’t just made your heart try to break through your ribcage—and went back to her spot on the opposite sofa, resuming her quiet focus like nothing happened.

You just sat there.

Staring.

Your screen glowed in front of you, but your eyes didn’t register anything. Your heartbeat was still racing—loud, fast, confusing. You pressed your palm lightly to your chest, like you could calm it down through sheer will.

Damn it.

You only felt like this when E texted you something flirty. When she said your name in lowercase followed by a period.

So why the hell were you feeling it now?

You looked over at Ellie again, who was already typing like nothing happened. No trace of what just passed between you. No sign she noticed how close she'd gotten. How soft her voice had been. How her perfume still clung faintly to your nostrils softly.

What is happening to me?

You blinked and looked away.

Just as your heart finally started to settle, Ellie’s voice cut through the silence—calm, a little smug.

“You know, for a one-page document, you really freaked the hell out.”

You turned your head slowly, squinting at her. “It was deleting itself.”

She raised a brow, fingers still tapping away. “Mm-hm.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting your laptop back onto your lap. “Don’t worry. I’ll finish this at home and send it to you immediately, boss.”

Ellie looked up, deadpan. “Yeah, I doubt you’ll actually do that.”

You gasped, mock-offended. “What do you mean? I study at home. Like… all the time.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it.

Because okay, she wasn’t wrong. You did spend most of your time after class texting E. Not exactly studious behavior. But she didn’t know that.

Right?

You rolled your eyes, recovering. “Oh, right. Sorry. I forgot you’d rather have someone else do this project with you anyway.”

Ellie let out a short laugh, shaking her head with a smirk. “Yeah,” Ellie said, dry. “Someone who doesn’t scream bloody murder when their laptop hiccups.”

You glared. “I didn’t scream.”

“You said fuck three times—four times” she replied, raising an eyebrow.

Something about the way she said it—calm, flat, unbothered—made heat crawl up your neck.

Why the hell did that sound hot?

It was just a word. One you said. But hearing her say it, with that voice, that look—

You blinked hard and looked away.

No. Nope. Absolutely not.

You were losing it.

You sighed as you slipped your laptop into your bag. So many things happened today. Well—not many, technically. You just spent it with Ellie. But still.

Why are you feeling like this?

Why did her fixing your document feel… hot? Why did the way she leaned in nearly knock the air out of your lungs? Why is she the one making your heart feel like it’s skipping steps?

Is it because the thought of her being E crossed your mind?

You glanced over.

Ellie was quietly gathering the snack wrappers, her back turned as she picked up the root beer can and half-eaten popcorn bag to bring them downstairs. The curve of her arm flexed slightly as she lifted the snacks, her black tank top hugging her back just enough to make your thoughts spiral all over again.

Her sweatpants hung low on her hips. Her shoulders were strong. Her posture effortless.

Fuck.

You needed to go home. You needed to get away from her.

I don’t like her.

You repeated that to yourself like it might cancel out whatever was happening in your chest.

When Ellie stepped out of the room, you nearly exhaled in relief.

The second the door clicked shut, the air felt easier to breathe. Like the heat that had been crawling up your neck finally backed off.

You grabbed your bag and headed downstairs. The sun was long gone, sky outside bruised and dark. You weren’t even planning on saying goodbye—just a quick escape.

But as you reached the foyer, she reappeared from the kitchen.

“Uh,” she started. “Can I ride with you? I just need to stop by the store.”

You froze for half a second.

“Uh… yeah,” you said, even though you absolutely did not want to.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath.

You stepped out into the night air, crossing her driveway toward your car as Ellie trailed a few steps behind you.

And even with all this distance, you still felt the press of her in your thoughts.

You drove with one hand on the wheel, eyes straight ahead. Ellie sat beside you, quiet. The car filled with nothing but the hum of the engine and the occasional shuffle when you turned.

On a normal day, you might’ve said something dumb by now. Something teasing or annoying. You’d poke fun at her playlist, or ask if she really believed Pluto shouldn’t be a planet. She’d groan and you’d grin.

But not tonight.

Not after… everything.

The silence settled too comfortably between you both.

She pointed when you reached the street corner. “There,” she said softly.

You pulled over by the small convenience store, the red glow of its sign washing over the dashboard.

She got out after muttering a simple “thank you,” the car door clicking gently shut. Still in that black tank top. Still completely unaware of what she was doing to your brain.

You watched her walk up the short curb. Then your gaze flicked to the two girls standing outside near the vending machine. One of them nudged the other, laughing softly under her breath. Their heads turned.

Staring at Ellie.

Your fingers curled around the steering wheel, knuckles whitening just slightly.

They were checking her out. Of course they were. She looked like that.

You swallowed, jaw tight.

Why does it piss me off that they get to see her like that?

You blinked hard and shifted in your seat, willing yourself to breathe through your nose. Your foot tapped lightly against the gas pedal, like your body was ready to drive away before your mind gave permission.

But you didn’t.

You just sat there, staring out the windshield. Telling yourself not to care. Not to feel anything.

You need to talk to E.

You need to remember who you like.

You need to get a grip.

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