11 Ethan
I woke up the next morning with a terrible hangover and plenty of regrets. I remembered Renae telling me she was moving away. I remembered spending the rest of the day in a stupor. I remembered dragging Callum to drinks after work. I remembered my two—no, three—no, five bloody drinks, and then Callum driving my sorry ass home. I remembered Ellie feeding me and taking care of me.
A strange memory of something, no, someone soft and plush entered my mind. It was the colour of the oversized plush sweatshirt Ellie wore around the house at night—oh my God, I had hugged Ellie and cuddled. Cuddled. Then I remembered it all. I had grabbed Ellie’s ass, and she had pushed me away right after that.
Oh my God. I grabbed Ellie’s ass.
It was a very nice ass, even under the extra-thick plush layer, I could still remember how soft and squeezable it felt. There was no way I could look her in the eye this morning. She probably wanted to kill me. Any respect she had for me would be flushed down the toilet this morning, never mind her now probably dead crush on me.
I had to face the music. I had to apologise.
I slunk out to the kitchen, only to find Ellie casually munching a slice of toast, looking out the back window.
She was already dressed for work. She wore her hair down today, and it cascaded down her back in soft waves. She wore a high-collared blouse and a long, pleated plaid skirt that gathered around her trim waist. The skirt draped flatteringly over her curved backside—and it was a damn nice backside. No wonder my drunken self had tried to cop a feel. The skirt was long and ended at her shins, only leaving a tiny inch of skin showing before the rest of her legs disappeared into dark socks. She was always so together , even when she was angry or annoyed. I wondered what she would look like if she really lost it. I wondered what her legs would look like if the skirt hiked up a little—a lot more.
Ellie heard me entering the kitchen and turned around.
“How do you feel this morning?” She asked. There was no death glare in my direction, no anger in her voice. Maybe it would be all right after all.
“Like crap,” I told her. “Look, about last night, I’m really sorry.”
Her lips turned up at the edges. “Don’t worry about it. You had a shit day. It’s understandable.”
Ah yes. I did tell her about Renae.
I looked warily at Ellie, looking for any sign of hurt, but Ellie remained grinning. She didn’t seem to be affected by learning about Renae. Maybe she didn’t like me as much as Joyce said she did. And she didn’t seem like she wanted to chop my balls off. Maybe she didn’t remember my ass grab after all. Maybe she chalked it down to drunk hands accidentally slipping where they shouldn’t have. She wasn’t angry at all. It was all right after all.
Disappointment flooded me, and I wasn’t sure why.
“Oh, by the way, I won’t be home for dinner this evening,” she informed me.
Ah, shit. Was she avoiding me then? Was our living situation going to get awkward?
“Are you going out with Hannah and Joyce?” If she were, Callum would ask me to hang out after work later.
Ellie shook her head. “I’ve got a date.”
Oh.
She was over me after all.
I guess that was a good thing…?