SWEET NOTHING
SUMMARY: You barely speak to your roommate. Then your neighbors develop an alarming cardio routine, bad sci-fi becomes a nightly ritual, and Ellie Williams turns out to be a much bigger problem than the noise ever was. WARNINGS: Oral sex (reader and ellie receiving), finger riding, vibrators, neighbours having loud sex, very big nerd alert. WORD COUNT: 11,700
A/N: i just wanna say thank you so much for reading friday, i'm in love!! i'm shocked with how many people enjoyed it!! thank u sooo much from the bottom of my heart. literally couldn't stop writing.
Youâve had the kind of day that makes you wonder if Corporate America was really worth it. Between the constant barking of executives who canât find their own email attachments and the blisters currently throbbing on the arches of your feet, you were operating on a purely mechanical level.
The walk from the train station felt like a marathon. By the time you turned the key in the lock, the silence of the apartment felt like a holy thing. The fridge hummed its usual, dying mechanical tune, and the floorboards creaked as you gingerly peeled off your heels.
You were hyper-aware of the dark crack under Ellieâs door. You and Jesseâs friend had lived together for six months, yet you were still in that polite, distant phase where you treated each other like rare, skittish animals.
Thud.
âShit,â you hissed, your heel slipping from your cramped fingers and hitting the hardwood with the force of a mallet. You froze, waiting for a groan or the rustle of sheets from her room.
Nothing.
Fifteen minutes later, the scalding water of the shower had successfully scrubbed the horrible work grime from your skin. You crawled into bed, the sheets cool and crisp, and for one beautiful, shimmering second, the world was perfect.
You rubbed your feet together, a contented sigh escaping your throat as your brain finally began to power down.
Then, the wall vibrated.
It wasnât a subtle sound. It wasnât the rhythmic thumping of a headboard you could eventually tune out like white noise. It was a high-pitched, soul-shattering wail that pierced through the drywall.
Your eyes snapped open. You stared at the ceiling, unblinking.
Maybe they were just⌠rearranging furniture? Very heavy furniture?
âOh, god,â a muffled voice groaned from the other side of the wall.
âYeah? You like that?â a manâs voice boomed, sounding disturbingly proud of himself.
You pulled the pillow over your head and squeezed. It didnât help.
The acoustics of this building were apparently designed by someone who hated privacy. For thirty minutes, you lay there, oscillating between genuine fury and a weird, delirious kind of amusement. It was so loud it bordered on performance art.
Finally, the sheer injustice of it â the fact that you had to be up in less than seven hours â snapped your patience.
You threw the covers off and marched toward the door. You needed water. You needed to stand in the kitchen where the air wasnât thick with the auditory evidence of your neighborsâ stamina.
The moment you pulled your door open, the door directly across the hall swung inward at the exact same time.
Ellie stood there, looking like sheâd been dragged through a hedge backward. Her hair was a mess, her eyes bloodshot and squinting against the dim hallway light, and she was wearing a faded grey t-shirt with a cartoon Brachiosaurus on it.
âI canât sleep,â you whispered, though your voice was sharp with irritation. âThese motherfuckers have been going at it for like⌠hours. Iâm losing my mind.â
Ellie leaned her shoulder against the doorframe, rubbing a hand over her face. She let out a yawn so wide you thought her jaw might click.
âYeah,â she rasped. âNo kidding. Sounds like theyâre trying to kill each other in there.â
âEllie, Iâm pretty sure she just screamed for a deity. I have to be at the office by eight. I canât be hallucinating spreadsheets because the guy next door thinks heâs an Olympic athlete,â You gestured wildly at the wall behind you as a particularly loud thump echoed through the hall.
Ellie let out a short, breathy huff of a laugh. âOlympic? Please. Dude sounds like heâd pull a muscle tying his shoes.â
âYouâre a critic now?â
âHard not to be when Iâm being forced to listen to this shit,â she muttered, shoving her hands into the pockets of her oversized sweatpants. She shifted her weight awkwardly. âSeriously though⌠itâs loud.â
âI was going to go grab some water,â you said, gesturing toward the kitchen. âEscape the blast zone for a minute. You want some?â
Ellie hesitated.
Usually, this was the part where sheâd give a quick âno thanksâ and disappear back into her cave of monitors and circuit boards. She wasnât exactly the late-night kitchen chat type.
But then, a fresh, rhythmic bang-bang-bang started up against the shared wall of her bedroom, followed by a muffled: âOh, baby!â
Ellie flinched, her nose crinkling in disgust.
âJesus fucking Christ,â she muttered, stepping out into the hall and shutting her door with a firm click. âYeah. Water sounds amazing.â
The kitchen was bathed in the sickly blue glow of the digital clock on the stove. You leaned against the counter, clutching a glass of cold water, while Ellie hovered by the fridge. She looked out of place in the common area, like a guest who wasnât sure if she was allowed to sit on the furniture.
âYou okay?â she asked, her voice quieter now. She leaned against the opposite counter, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. âYou look⌠wiped.â
âThat obvious?â
âKinda.â She shrugged. âUsually youâre more⌠I donât know. Put together. Itâs weird seeing you like this.â
âItâs midnight, Ellie. The professional version of me died around 6 PM.â You took a long sip of water. âAnd for the record, youâre one to talk. Is that a coffee stain on your dinosaur?â
She looked down at her shirt, squinting at the faint brown smudge on the Brachiosaurusâs neck.
âMaybe. Itâs vintage. Adds character.â She looked back up at you, expression softening slightly. âJesse says theyâre running you ragged over there. Secretary for some high-end law firm or something?â
âInvestment firm. Even worse,â you sighed. âI spend eight hours a day saying âof course, sirâ to people who donât know how to use a stapler. I just wanted one night of silence. Just one.â
As if on cue, a muffled, rhythmic âYes! Yes! Yes!â drifted through the vents, followed by a violent headboard slam.
Ellie winced. âJesus. What the hell are they doing over there?â
âHeâs certainly persistent,â you muttered. âItâs been forty minutes. Iâm almost impressed. Mostly homicidal, but slightly impressed.â
âDonât be. Most of thatâs probably just noise. Guys like that?â She gestured vaguely. âAll bark, no bite.â
âOh? And youâre an expert on the technical skills of our neighbor?â You arched an eyebrow at her.
Ellieâs face went bright red. She looked away instantly.Â
âI â no. Obviously not.â She cleared her throat. âIâm just saying. Itâs loud. Kinda⌠pathetic.â
âPathetic,â you repeated, leaning in slightly.
âShut up,â she grumbled. âIâm just saying â if youâre gonna keep the whole floor awake, at least mix it up. Donât just yell the same crap like youâre reading off cue cards.â
âI think âOh, babyâ is a classic for a reason, Ellie.â
âItâs a clichĂŠ,â she countered. âItâs the âLive, Laugh, Loveâ of the bedroom. Boring.â
You laughed. âI didnât know you were such a snob about this.â
âIâm a snob about anything that screws up my sleep,â she muttered. âAnd I was right in the middle of a really good dream, too.â
âWhat was it? Space? Dinosaurs? Saving the world?â
She shifted her feet. âI was eating a really good sandwich.â
âA sandwich.â
âHey.â She pointed a finger at you. âIt had avocado. Thatâs premium dream food.â
You were both tired, both annoyed, and both stuck in a kitchen at 12:30 AM because the people on the other side of the wall wouldnât shut up. Still⌠it wasnât that bad.
âWell,â you said, finishing your water. âI canât go back in there. Iâll end up banging on the wall with a shoe.â
Ellie glanced toward the living room, then back at you. She bit her lip, looking uncharacteristically hesitant.
âI, uh⌠Iâve got some terrible movies on my hard drive. Like, âso bad theyâre actually funnyâ bad.â She rubbed the back of her neck. âWe could put one on in the living room? TVâs on the opposite wall. Might drown them out.â
She looked like she expected you to say no.
But the thought of your dark, noisy bedroom felt miserable, and Ellie, with her stupid dinosaur shirt, was actually decent company.
âAs long as there are no âOh, babiesâ in the movie,â you said.
Ellie grinned. âStrictly monsters and bad decisions. I promise.â
âLead the way.â
As you followed her into the living room, another muffled shriek drifted through the apartment.
Ellie just sighed. âUnbelievable.â
The living room was cramped, dominated by Ellieâs oversized beanbag chair and the sprawling array of tech equipment she kept on the coffee table. You settled onto the pull-out couch, which creaked in protest, while Ellie fumbled with an HDMI cable.
âOkay, so,â she started, not looking at you as she toggled through a folder of pirated movies. âIâve got Sharknado 4, some weird indie horror about a killer tire, or Childâs Play. You know, Chucky? The homicidal doll.â
âChucky?â You raised an eyebrow. âIs that really going to drown out⌠that?â
You gestured vaguely toward the wall, where a rhythmic thud-thud-thud had just resumed.
âTrust me,â Ellie muttered, finally getting the movie to full-screen. âThat little shit screams loud enough to wake the dead. Plus, itâs a classic. Kinda.â
âItâs ridiculous,â you countered. âItâs a doll, Ellie. Just⌠kick it.â
Ellie finally flopped down onto her beanbag, clutching a bag of stale pretzels sheâd scavenged from the kitchen. âSee, thatâs where youâre wrong. Guyâs got the soul of a serial killer. You canât just kick a serial killer.â
âItâs literally plastic and cotton.â
âYeah, well, soâs a pipe bomb if you build it right,â she retorted, pointing a pretzel at you. âIf I were in that movie, Iâd totally pull a Sid from Toy Story. Take him to my workbench, rip him apart, maybe solder his legs to a toaster. See how tough he feels then.â
You snorted, watching her get animated. Her face lit up when she talked about taking things apart; it was the most life youâd seen in her since you moved in. âYouâve clearly thought about this way too much.â
âI have a lot of time on my hands while Iâm waiting for code to compile,â she shrugged, her voice dropping back into that shy mumble.
For the next forty minutes, the two of you sat in the blue light of the TV. You found yourself actually laughing as Ellie pointed out every technical flaw in the movieâs logic.
âLook at that!â she hissed, gesturing at the screen. âWho the hell leaves a window open like that? In Chicago? Thatâs just asking to get murdered.â
âMaybe they like the breeze,â you teased.
âYeah, the breeze of impending death. Solid choice.â
She was mid-ramble, explaining exactly why Chuckyâs wiring wouldnât allow him to move his jaw that fast, when a sound from the apartment next door cut through the movieâs soundtrack. It wasnât a moan this time. It was a full-bodied, top-of-the-lungs shriek that sounded like someone winning the lottery and being stabbed at the same time.
âWhoa, whoa,â you said, leaning forward. âPause it. Ellie, pause it.â
She hit the spacebar, and the living room fell into a heavy, expectant silence. From the other side of the wall, a woman let out one final, shaky âOh my god!â followed by the sound of someone collapsing onto a mattress.
You looked at Ellie. Ellie looked at you. For three seconds, neither of you breathed, and then you laughed.
âJesus,â you whispered. âShould we call the police?â
âMan, how embarrassing would that be?â Ellie snorted. âImagine the cops kicking the door down, guns out, and they just find some dude named Gary standing there in his socks.âÂ
âIâm serious, though,â you said. âThat sounded like a crime.â
âIn some states, it probably is,â Ellie muttered. âBut honestly? We donât need the cops. I bet Beth from 5B is already losing her mind. Sheâs like the SWAT team of noise complaints.â
You nodded fervently. âOh, Beth is definitely worse than the police. Sheâs got that little notebook.â
âDude, seriously,â Ellie said, her voice rising in shared annoyance. âOne time I got home late â like 2 AM â and I was trying to be quiet, right? Barely touched my keys. Next morning, she leaves a note saying the âclinkingâ was disruptive.â
âNo way,â you laughed. âDo you think she stays up the whole night? Just sitting in the dark with a glass against the wall, waiting for someone to mess up?â
âOh, 100 percent,â Ellie said, nodding solemnly. âSheâs probably got a full file on us.â
The silence from next door finally seemed permanent. A heavy, peaceful quiet settled over the apartment, the kind that only comes after midnight.
You stood up, stretching your arms high above your head. The movement caused your shirt to ride up, exposing a sliver of your waist and the curve of your hip.
You didnât notice it at first, but when you glanced down, you caught Ellieâs eyes. She wasnât looking at the TV anymore. She was staring right at the patch of skin. The second she realized youâd caught her, she snapped her gaze back to the blank screen, her ears turning bright red.
âWell,â you said, your voice a little softer as you pulled your shirt back down. âI think the coast is clear. Iâm gonna try to get at least⌠four hours of sleep.â
Ellie cleared her throat, her hand flying to the back of her neck. âYeah. Yeah, same. Iâve got⌠stuff tomorrow. Early.â
âRight. Tech stuff,â you teased gently.
You both walked toward your respective doors. The hallway felt narrower than usual, the air between you humming with a different kind of energy than the frustration youâd started the night with.
You reached your door and turned back. âGoodnight, Ellie. Thanks for the movie.â
She stood by her own door, hand on the knob, looking like she wanted to say something else. She hesitated, then gave a short, awkward nod.
âYeah. Night.â She paused. âTry not to let those freaks ruin your sleep.â
âIâll try.â
You shut your door and collapsed into bed. The silence was finally absolute, but your brain was buzzing. When you finally drifted off, it wasnât the neighbors or the stress of the office that filled your head.
You dreamt of a tiny, red-haired doll in a denim jumpsuit, chasing you through a dark hallway. But every time he got close, he didnât have a knife â he was just holding a pair of keys.
In the dream, you looked for Ellie to help you, but she was too busy trying to solder the doll to a toaster.
When you woke up at 7 AM to the shrill scream of your alarm, you groaned into your pillow, your first thought clear and amused: Dammit, Ellie. Even in my head, youâre a loser.
Lunch at the firm was less of a âbreakâ and more of a tactical retreat. You usually had two choices: sit in a cramped bathroom stall, scrolling through your phone in a fugue state to avoid âteam-buildingâ small talk, or brave the breakroom.
The breakroom was a liminal nightmare. One of the fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a rhythmic click-shirr-click that made you want to lob your stapler at it. To make matters worse, Tom from Finance had once again nuked a tray of leftover tilapia. The air smelled like a pier baking in the sun for three straight days.
Fortunately, Jesse was clocked in at the same time today. You were actually functional because, miracle of miracles, the Olympic athletes next door had finally taken a night off from their gold-medal attempts. Youâd actually gotten a full seven hours.
Jesse was leaning against the laminate counter, nursing a coffee. He was halfway through a rant about the new filing system.
âIâm telling you, itâs a joke,â Jesse said, shaking his head. âThey want everything digitized by Friday, but the scanner in 4B has been jammed since forever. I asked Miller for a repair tech, and he looked at me like Iâd asked for one of his organs. Itâs just⌠you even listening?â
You were currently staring into space, slowly chewing a green grape while the ghost of a blister on your pinky toe throbbed in time with the flickering light. Your kitten heels were slowly sawing your feet off.
âHuh? Yeah. Digital. Friday. Got it,â you mumbled, popping another grape.
Jesse narrowed his eyes, a smirk tugging at his mouth. âYouâre a thousand miles away. Whatâs going on? Did corporate finally crush your soul, or is this about the neighbor drama youâve been texting me about?â
âThe neighbors were actually quiet last night,â you said, leaning back against the cold brick wall. âLast week, though⌠I ended up hanging out with Ellie. We watched Childâs Play.â
Jesse froze, coffee cup halfway to his mouth. He blinked.
âWait â hold on.â He stared at you. âYou actually watched Childâs Play with her? Like⌠voluntarily?â
You stopped mid-chew, raising an eyebrow. âYeah? Whatâs the big deal? It was her idea. Well, she gave me a list of terrible movies, and that one seemed like the least offensive.â
Jesse let out a short laugh, shaking his head. âMan⌠sheâs probably insufferably smug right now. Do you have any idea how many times sheâs tried to get me and Dina to watch those movies? Sheâs obsessed with that creepy plastic asshole. We always bail.â
âWhy?â you asked, genuinely curious. âI mean, itâs a bad movie, but itâs not that painful.â
âBecause she doesnât shut up,â Jesse said flatly. âShe spends the whole time pausing it to explain how the animatronics work or how she could âtotally dismantle himâ with a screwdriver and five minutes. Itâs exhausting. Itâs like being trapped in a TED Talk about murder-dolls.â
You shrugged, a small smile tugging at your lips as you thought about Ellieâs heated defense of the Toy Story method of doll disposal. âI donât know. I liked it. We actually had a pretty philosophical conversation about it.â
âPhilosophical? About a killer doll? Jesus.â He shook his head. âYou two are unbelievable. I always knew sticking you together was gonna create some weird energy, but bonding over Chucky wasnât exactly my prediction.â
âWeâre not âbonding,ââ you corrected quickly, though even you didnât quite believe it. âWeâre just⌠survivors of a noise violation. But hey â how did you even meet her anyway? I realized last night I donât actually know the origin story.â
Jesse took a sip of his coffee. âThrough Dina. They met at some Space Camp thing when they were kids. Ellie was apparently the only one there who actually cared about rocket specs or whatever. Dina thought she was a massive nerd. Naturally, they became best friends.â
âOf course she went to Space Camp,â you muttered under your breath.
Jesseâs eyes flicked to yours. He tilted his head slightly. âWhy the sudden interest in Ellieâs backstory? Usually, you just complain that she leaves circuit boards all over your kitchen.â
âJust curious,â you said, pushing off the wall and tossing your grape stems into the trash. âSheâs⌠more interesting than I thought. A loser, definitely, but interesting.â
Jesse huffed a laugh. âCareful. Spend too much time with her, and youâll start wearing flannel and arguing about sci-fi accuracy like itâs a personality trait.â
âToo late for the arguing,â you called back over your shoulder.
Back at your desk, the afternoon slog felt a little less heavy. You sat in your ergonomic chair, staring at a spreadsheet of quarterly earnings, but your mind was elsewhere.
You found yourself imagining the look on Ellieâs face â that wide-eyed, deeply offended, âyouâve gotta be fucking kidding meâ expression â when you eventually told her youâd never seen a single Star Wars movie.
The thought made you smirk. It would be priceless.
The following weeks were a slow-motion study of who Ellie Williams was when she wasnât trying to be invisible. Youâd learned she had a weirdly encyclopedic knowledge of space, a habit of humming 80s synth-pop while she tinkered with hardware, and a fierce, borderline defensive loyalty to physical media.
On your way home, your feet aching in your heels, you stopped in a cramped corner shop. Your eyes snagged on a bargain bin, and there it was: The Core. It was a masterpiece of scientific stupidity â a movie about drilling to the center of the Earth to restart the planetâs magnetic field with nukes. It was exactly the kind of high-stakes, low-logic trash she loved to dissect.
When you got home, you went through the motions. Coat on the rack. Bag dumped. Heels kicked into the closet. You were still in your stiff work slacks and button-down when you found yourself standing in front of her door. You didnât really knock on her door â some sort of unspoken boundary â but you found yourself rapping your knuckles against the wood anyway, shifting from one sore foot to the other.
The door creaked open. Ellie was there, wearing a faded t-shirt featuring a T-Rex in boxing gloves (âJurassic Punchâ), but it was her hair that stopped your train of thought. It wasnât pulled back in its usual messy knot. It was down. She looked different.
âHey,â she said, her voice a little raspy. She leaned against the frame, hands buried in her sweatpants. âYou look like hell. Rough day?â
âFine,â you said, trying to keep your voice level despite the sudden, strange thrum in your chest. âFound something. Figured your collection was lacking.â
You held out the DVD. Ellieâs eyes went wide. She took the case, her fingers brushing yours for a fleeting second that felt like an electric shock.
âNo fucking way. The Core? You serious?â She flipped it over, a crooked grin breaking across her face. âThis movie is unbelievably stupid. Itâs perfect. Thanks.â
She hesitated, glancing down at the case before looking back at you, suddenly a bit less confident.Â
âSo, uh⌠what are the odds youâll watch this with me? Or are you too wiped from dealing with corporate idiots?â
âOdds are high,â you smiled, exhausted but intrigued. âJust let me scrub the day off first. Twenty minutes.â
âYeah,â she said quickly. âCool. Iâll get it set up.â
The shower was a blur of steam. You moved fast, your brain replaying the way sheâd looked with her hair down. It was only when you turned off the water that you realized youâd left your change of clothes sitting on your bed. God dammit.
You wrapped your towel tight, tucking it securely over your chest, and cracked the door. The hallway was short. You stepped out, damp hair dripping onto your shoulders, your skin still flushed from the heat. You were halfway to your room when Ellie rounded the corner from the kitchen, a bowl of popcorn in her hands.
You both froze.
Ellieâs gaze dropped. Her eyes tracked down the line of your legs, lingering for a fraction too long on the water droplets sliding down your skin, before snapping back up to your face. Her entire neck and face turned violently red.
âI â shit. Sorry,â she mumbled, her voice cracking. âDidnât know you were â yeah. I was just⌠popcorn. Living room.â
She moved past you quickly, eyes glued firmly to the floor.
When you finally joined her on the couch, dressed in oversized sweats, the atmosphere was charged. Ten minutes into the movie, the neighbors started up. A rhythmic, high-pitched wail sliced right through the dialogue.
âJesus,â you muttered, leaning your head back. âOkay, I have a theory. Maybe theyâre content creators. Like⌠professionals.â
Ellie snorted, shoving popcorn into her mouth. âWell, if they are, itâs gotta be terrible content. Just a lot of noise and zero imagination.â
âI donât know,â you teased, glancing at her. âYou watch a lot of straight porn to know?â
Ellie stopped chewing. She slowly turned to look at you, eyebrows raised, then pointed a thumb at herself.
âAre you seriously asking me that right now?â she said, deadpan. âLook at me. Use your brain.â
A laugh escaped you, though the air between you shifted slightly. âFair point. Just checking.â
By the end of the movie, the room was quiet. The neighbors had finally finished, and the credits rolled softly in the dim light. You turned to comment on the ending â and caught Ellie staring at you. Specifically, your mouth.
Heat crept up your neck. Normally, her tech obsession struck you as chaotic, messy even, but right now, looking at the intricate web of wires and logic scattered across the coffee table, you felt something different.
The silence thickened. You needed to break it before you lost your nerve.
âOh â before I go, thereâs something I should probably tell you,â you said, standing up to go back to your room, your voice a little lower than intended. She looked at you expectantly. âIâve never watched Star Wars.â
The reaction was instantaneous.
âYouâve⌠what?â she said, staring at you in disbelief. âLike â none of them? Not even by accident?â
âNope. Not a single one.â
Ellie just stared at you for a solid two seconds.Â
âOh my God. No. Absolutely not.â She grabbed the remote. âWeâre fixing this right now. Sit. You are not going another day without seeing Star Wars. Thatâs insane.â
You laughed, settling back into the cushions. For the first time, you didnât mind the lack of sleep.
The bus ride home was the usual exercise in modern envy. You scrolled through Instagram, watching people you hadnât spoken to since high school post high-definition reels of Tokyo neon and Kyoto shrines.
A vibration in your palm broke the spiral. It was a text from Ellie.
new high score unlocked. theyâve been going at it since 3pm. iâm currently wearing noise-canceling headphones.
You caught yourself smiling at the screen, a little too wide, a little too quickly. You bit your lip and tucked the phone away. Shit, you thought. Since when do I look forward to her complaining?
When you finally pushed through the front door, the apartment smelled faintly of dust and sugary cereal. Ellie was perched on a kitchen stool, hunched over a bowl of Froot Loops with the intensity of someone performing surgery.
âLovely dinner, Ellie,â you remarked, dropping your bag on the counter. âVery balanced. Very adult.â
She didnât even look up, her spoon halfway to her mouth. âDonât start. I just bought a PS5. Iâm basically living like a broke college kid until Friday. These loops are a luxury item.â
âPriorities, I guess.â
âBetter graphics make the poverty feel less depressing,â she shot back.
You both retreated to your rooms â you to tackle a sociology assignment that felt increasingly pointless, and her to likely disappear into a digital world. You were halfway through a paragraph about urban sprawl when a sharp, authoritative knock echoed through the apartment.
The sound was so unexpected that both your doors flew open at the exact same moment. You and Ellie stood in the hallway, staring at each other like two deer caught in headlights.
âAre the cops finally here for the noise violation?â Ellie asked, her eyes wide.
âOnly one way to find out.â
You reached the front door together. In a silent, clumsy dance of âwhoâs going to do it,â you both reached for the handle at the same time, bumped hands, pulled back awkwardly, and then Ellie finally yanked it open.
Standing there were the neighbors.
Up close, they looked⌠aggressively normal. The man â presumably âGaryâ â was wearing the ugliest polo shirt ever.
âHey! Sorry to drop by unannounced,â the woman chirped, holding a small plate of store-bought cookies. âIâm Nathalie, and this is Mark. We moved in a while back and just wanted to introduce ourselves.â
You didnât dare look at Ellie. If you saw her face, you were going to lose it.
âHi,â you managed, your voice tight. You said your name, then introduced Ellie, who stood absolutely silent beside you.
âNice to meet you guys!â Mark said. âHope we havenât been too annoying with all the moving.â
Ellie made a strange sound that was half-cough, half-choke. She was staring very intently at Markâs sneakers.
âYeah,â she said, voice slightly strained. âAll good.â
You stepped in quickly before Nathalie could continue. âThanks for the cookies! We actually have⌠a thing. But welcome to the building!â
You shut the door perhaps a little too fast. The second the latch clicked, the silence lasted exactly three seconds before Ellie turned to you with a thousand-yard stare.
âI couldnât even look at him,â you said, leaning your forehead against the door. âI kept thinking about the power grunts. He looks like he manages a Best Buy.â
âHe absolutely manages a Best Buy,â Ellie said immediately. âThatâs the most Best Buy-looking dude Iâve ever seen. Man, heâs so⌠aggressively normal.â
You looked at her â really looked at her â leaning against the wall, hair a mess, still glowing from the absurdity of it all. And you realized you didnât want to go back to your sociology paper.
âLook,â you started, âsince youâre officially starving until Friday⌠how about we grab some cheap pizza from the place around the corner? My treat.â
Ellie blinked. For a second, the sarcasm dropped, replaced by that flicker of shyness you were growing disturbingly fond of. A faint pink tint crept up her neck.
âUh⌠yeah. Okay. I mean â if youâre sure.â She rubbed the back of her neck. âI could definitely be convinced to eat something that isnât fluorescent cereal.â
âPut your shoes on, Ellie.â
The pizza was greasy, the crust slightly burnt, and it was the best meal youâd had in weeks. You brought the giant box back to the living room and settled in for the next leg of the marathon: Attack of the Clones.
As the movie played, Ellie became a fountain of information.
âOkay, see that guy in the background? Thatâs Plo Koon. His lore is actually insane,â she said, leaning forward with a slice of pizza in one hand. She broke down Palpatineâs political maneuvering with more clarity than your professors ever managed in a lecture.
She was animated, hands moving as she talked, eyes bright and focused. It actually made the confusing plot make sense.
But as the night stretched toward 2 AM, the exhaustion of the week finally caught up to you. Your eyes grew heavy, the flickering lights of the TV blurring into soft shapes.
Without really thinking about it, your head tipped sideways. You felt the soft fabric of her hoodie against your cheek as you leaned your weight onto her shoulder.
You felt her freeze. For a moment, she stopped breathing entirely.
And then â as you hovered in that fragile space between sleep and wakefulness â you felt the light, careful touch of her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from your forehead.
Her hand lingered there, incredibly gentle.
The office happy hour was a necessary evil. You hated these things â the forced camaraderie, the lukewarm appetizers, and the way everyone pretended to enjoy talking about quarterly projections over fifteen-dollar craft beers. But the firm was a ladder, and you werenât planning on staying at the bottom forever.
Fridays had recently become sacred. They were the nights you and Ellie sat on the floor, ate questionable takeout, and let her explain the intricacies of a galaxy far, far away. Trading that for a crowded bar in Midtown felt like a betrayal of your own sanity.
You stood in front of your bedroom mirror, adjusting a dress that was just a little too tight in the ribs. You reached behind your back, your fingers fumbling blindly for the zipper.
âCome on,â you muttered, your face flushing with frustration as the metal teeth snagged halfway up. âSeriously?â
You struggled for another two minutes, nearly pulling a muscle in your shoulder, before giving up. Usually, youâd rather die than ask for help, but time was ticking, and the Uber was already ten minutes away.
You walked out into the hall and stopped in front of Ellieâs door. It was still a weird boundary to cross, but you took a breath and knocked.
âEllie? You in there? I need a hand with something.â
There was a heavy pause, then the squeak of her desk chair. The door opened, spilling a low neon-blue glow from her monitors into the dark hallway. Ellie stood there in her usual hoodie, blinking at you.
Her eyes dropped. They lingered. She swallowed, throat bobbing slightly.
âYou, uhâŚâ She cleared her throat. âYou look⌠really nice.â
âThanks,â you said, feeling a sudden prickle of self-consciousness. You turned your back to her, gathering your hair and pulling it over one shoulder. âI canât get this zipper. Do you mind?â
âOh. Yeah. Sure.â
Her presence was warm, a stark contrast to the cold draft of the hallway. Then you felt her fingers â cool against your skin as she carefully brushed stray hairs away from the nape of your neck.
The contact sent a sharp, involuntary shiver down your spine. Her touch was slow. Careful. Almost hesitant.
You felt the steady glide of the zipper moving up your back. Her knuckles grazed your skin â light, fleeting â but it felt like she was leaving a trail of heat behind.
âThere,â she said quietly.
âThank you. Really. I was about to start cutting my way out of it.â You turned back around, adjusting the straps. You shifted on your feet, the silence between you suddenly dense. âIâm really sorry about tonight. I tried to get out of it, but my boss is a team-building fanatic.â
Ellie shoved her hands into her pockets, leaning against the doorframe. She shrugged.
âYeah. Itâs fine.â A beat. âGo do your corporate thing.â
âIâll make it up to you? Double feature next week?â
Ellie hesitated for half a second. Then: âYeah⌠okay.â
You checked your phone. âOkay, I have to go. My rideâs outside.â
You started to turn, but Ellie moved, quick and uncharacteristic.
âWait.â
You stopped.
âHey, youâve gotâŚâ She leaned in slightly. âYouâve got something right here.â
Before you could ask what, she stepped closer. Into your space. Her thumb brushed the curve of your cheekbone. She dragged it slowly â deliberately â gaze locked on the spot like it required absolute concentration.
Your heart did a slow, heavy roll in your chest. You looked at her. The blue glow from her room caught the copper in her hair, sharpened the focus in her eyes. Since when did she look like that? You told yourself it was just the lighting but you couldnât move.
âGot it,â she murmured, dropping her hand.
âThanks,â you breathed, your face burning.
The ride to the bar was a blur of city lights and traffic. You sat in the back of the Uber, staring out the window, absently touching the spot on your cheek where her thumb had been.
Youâd checked the mirror right before leaving. You were almost positive there hadnât been anything there.
The office party was every bit the sterilized nightmare youâd anticipated. Even with Jesse there to provide a buffer, the air felt thin, saturated with the smell of expensive gin and desperate ambition.
Youâd spent three hours perfecting a âclient-friendlyâ smile that made your jaw ache, nodding along to stories about offshore accounts and golf handicaps.
Jesse hadnât made it easier. He spent the better part of the night leaning against the mahogany bar, nursing a beer and grinning at you with a look that was way too knowing.
âSo,â heâd said, lowering his voice as a group of junior partners moved past. âFunny how things work out. Youâre asking about Ellieâs space camp days, and now sheâs blowing up my phone asking if youâre surviving this corporate circus.â
Youâd nearly choked on a stray olive. âShe asked you that?â
âAmong other things.â He took a slow sip of his beer, clearly enjoying this. âSheâs curious. Itâs⌠interesting.â
Youâd brushed it off. You refused to let yourself dissect what it meant for Ellie Williams to be checking up on you.
By 11 PM, youâd hit your limit. You slipped out, the cool night air hitting your face like a benediction.
When you turned the key in the apartment lock, you expected the silence of a place gone to sleep. Instead, the flickering blue light of the TV greeted you. Ellie was sprawled on the couch, half-engulfed in a blanket, watching a re-run of UK Border Security.
The sight made your pulse do a strange, uneven skip. You didnât want to be the kind of person who assumed things, but the British narratorâs voice was the only sound in the room, and Ellie didnât exactly look deeply invested in the luggage of a suspicious traveler from Ibiza.
âHey,â you said softly, kicking off your heels with a groan of pure relief. âYouâre still up.â
Ellie looked over the back of the couch, her hair a chaotic mess against the cushions.
âYeah. Couldnât sleep.â She gestured vaguely at the TV. âGot sucked into this nonsense. How was the corporate hellscape?â
âAwful. I almost taped Jesseâs mouth shut. He was being a menace.â
âSounds about right,â she muttered, a small, tired smile flickering across her lips.
âWait there,â you said, gesturing toward the TV. âI need to get out of this dress before I lose my mind. Donât let them seize any more contraband without me.â
You retreated to your room, shut the door, and leaned your back against it. Your face felt dangerously hot. You pressed your cold palms against your cheeks, trying to steady your breathing.
She stayed up, you thought. Then immediately shut the thought down.
Five minutes later, you returned to the living room. You slumped onto the couch beside her, the familiar scent of her laundry detergent grounding you. On screen, a customs officer was pulling a suspicious brick of white powder out of a hollowed-out surfboard.
âHeâs never gonna make it,â you murmured. âTotal amateur move. Who puts it in the board?â
âRight?â Ellie shifted, shoulder brushing yours as she leaned forward. âIf youâre gonna smuggle something, you gotta be subtle. Iâve thought about this.â
You turned slightly. âOf course you have.â
âYou need something incredibly boring. Something no one wants to deal with.â She gestured at the TV. âLike industrial plumbing parts. Or a box of ancient computer junk. Nobodyâs digging through that willingly.â
You snorted. âYouâd get caught because youâd start explaining motherboard specs to the guard.â
Ellie scoffed. âHey. Distraction technique. While Iâm nerding out, youâre casually walking past with the actual crime. Weâd be unstoppable.â
The low hum of the television and the warmth of the blanket eventually started to pull at you.
The adrenaline from the party faded, replaced by a heavy, comfortable lethargy. Your eyes drifted shut as the customs officer began lecturing a man about undeclared beef jerky.
Sleep claimed you quickly. The last thing you felt was the subtle shift of the couch cushions.
Somewhere in the haze of half-sleep, you felt something soft slide over your feet â your thick wool socks. Then her hands, steady and careful, tugging them on one by one.
Followed by the weight of a blanket being tucked securely around your shoulders.
And through the fog of exhaustion, you remembered mentioning to her once â weeks ago, over a late-night glass of water â that you could never fall asleep if your feet were cold.
Saturday was the only day the apartment didnât feel like a high-speed chase. It was the day for the mundane â the hum of the dryer, the scent of lemon floor cleaner, and the slow realization that you were exhausted from a week of playing corporate pretend.
You were hauling a plastic basket of warm, folded laundry up the elevator when it let out a dull chime at the lobby. The doors slid open, and Mark stepped in. He was wearing another polo â navy blue this time â and smelled like expensive aftershave and laundry detergent.
You immediately developed an intense interest in the âIn Case of Fireâ sign on the wall. Your brain, traitorous as ever, started replaying the muffled, rhythmic thumping of his headboard. You tried to think about literally anything else â cat videos, your sociology grade, the weather â but the silence in the elevator was heavy.
âHey,â Mark said, breaking the quiet. âI donât think I caught your name the other night.â
You said it, offering a tight, polite smile.
âNice. How long have you and your girlfriend been in the building?â
The word girlfriend hit you like a physical jolt. You adjusted your grip on the laundry basket, the plastic digging into your hip.
âOh â Ellieâs not my girlfriend. Weâre just roommates.â
Markâs eyebrows shot up. âOh, man. Sorry. I totally assumed. My bad.â
The elevator dinged at your floor, and you both stepped out into the hallway. You reached your door first, dropping the basket with a heavy thud as you fished for your keys. Mark stopped a few feet away, but instead of heading to his own door, he lingered.
Then stepped closer. Too close.
âWell,â he said, his voice dropping into something oddly deliberate, âsince you donât have a girlfriend⌠Iâd like to make an offer.â
You froze, key halfway into the lock.
âNathalie and I,â he continued, leaning one hand against the wall near your door, âweâve actually been looking for a third. If youâre ever interested in⌠broadening your horizons.â
Your brain short-circuited. Fully.
âOkay,â you muttered, the word coming out strangled. âSure. I â yeah.â
You jammed the key in, twisted it, and practically fell into the apartment, locking the deadbolt behind you with a frantic click.
Why did I agree to that? What is wrong with you?
The apartment was empty. Ellie had gone over to Joelâs for the afternoon and said she wouldnât be back until nine. You leaned against the door, staring at your laundry basket, feeling like youâd just escaped a cult recruitment attempt.
You pulled out your phone, fingers flying across the screen.
You: Mark just asked me to be their third. They are literally recruiting.
A few minutes later, your phone buzzed.
Ellie: no fucking way. youâre kidding.
You: Dead serious. When you get back, weâre doing a deep dive. If they have a channel, you do the dishes for a week. If they donât, Iâm on sink duty. Deal?
Ellie: deal. prepare to wash some plates.
When the front door finally opened later that night, Ellie didnât even take her shoes off before heading straight for her desk.
âMove,â she muttered, nudging you aside as she dropped into her swivel chair. âLetâs see how much I regret this.â
You hovered behind her, leaning over the back of the chair as she typed their names into a very specific search engine. The blue light of the monitors washed over both of your faces.
After a few seconds of scrolling through social media profiles and suspiciously polished âlifestyleâ blogs, a link appeared that looked⌠disturbingly professional.
Ellie clicked it. Her eyes scanned the page.
Then: âJesus Christ,â she muttered.
âCalled it,â you whispered, a triumphant smirk on your face. âEnjoy the dishes, Williams.â
She clicked a thumbnail just to verify. The video buffered for a second, then Mark appeared on screen, very much not wearing a polo shirt.
Ellie recoiled. âOh my God â nope.â
Her hands flew to the keyboard, killing the tab like sheâd just triggered a bomb. She spun around in her chair so fast she nearly slammed into your knees.
âI did not want to see that,â she barked, eyes wide in genuine horror. âI really, really did not need to see our neighborâs dick. Ever.â
âIt was⌠a choice,â you said.
Ellie dragged both hands down her face, ears burning red. âCan you imagine? Your name next to theirs on a thumbnail?â
âJesus, no,â you shuddered, leaning against her desk. âIf Mark were a woman, maybe Iâd consider the curiosity, but⌠I mean, you saw it. That was a very⌠unique genital situation.â
Ellie stilled. Instantly.
The frantic post-trauma energy faded, replaced by something quieter. Sharper. She looked up at you, head tilting slightly.
âWait,â she said. A beat. âYou go⌠both ways?â
Her voice tried for casual.Didnât quite land.
âNah,â you said, looking down at your feet. âJust women.â
You realized then that youâd never actually said it outright to her. Youâd mentioned âbad datesâ and âexes,â but always vaguely. You watched her face carefully.
Ellie didnât speak for a long moment. She just stared at you like you were a puzzle piece sheâd been turning over for weeks.
Then â slowly â the corner of her mouth twitched. A small, private smile. She turned back to her computer.
âGood to know,â she muttered. Then, after a tiny pause: âIâll go start on those dishes.â
The marathon was officially over. Nine movies, three months, and enough technical debates to last a lifetime. You were slumped on the couch, the credits of the final film rolling in the dim light of the living room.
It was funny how the space between you and Ellie on these cushions had shrunk since that first night with the neighbors; now, your knees were practically tucked under her side.
âSo,â Ellie said. She was looking at you with that expectant, nerdy glint in her eyes. âAlright. Donât bullshit me. Which one wins?â
You knew exactly what you were doing when you looked her dead in the eye and named the worst-rated prequel in the bunch.
Ellieâs face went through three different stages of grief in five seconds.
âOh, come on. No. Absolutely not.â She stared at you. âThe one with the CGI grass? Youâre screwing with me.â
âI liked the romance, Ellie. It was poetic,â you teased, biting back a smile.
âPoetic?â she scoffed. âIt was like watching two awkward robots try to date. Youâve got terrible taste. Seriously.â
âWhatever,â you laughed, stretching your arms over your head. âItâs over. Iâm a fan. What now? Do I get a certificate or something?â
âBetter,â she said, leaning back. âHow much do you like Yoda?â
âA lot. Heâs a little green legend.â
Ellie glanced at you sideways. âWhat if I told you thereâs a baby version?â
Your head snapped toward her. âStop. Where?â
âItâs called The Mandalorian,â she said, already reaching for the remote. âSpace western. Tiny green menace. Youâll love it.â
âOkay, put it on,â you said, shifting to stand. âBut I need water first. My throat is parched from all your lecturing.â
Ellie pulled her legs back from the coffee table to let you pass, but between the dim light and the tangled mess of the weighted blanket on the floor, your foot caught.
You stumbled. âWhoa ââ
Ellieâs hands shot out, catching you by the waist and arms before you could hit the floor. The momentum pulled you straight into her space, leaving you sprawled awkwardly across her lap and the crook of her arm.
The room went silent.
You were so close you could feel the heat radiating off her skin. For the first time, you could actually see the faint constellation of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
Her breath hitched, her pupils blown wide and her hands still gripping your waist.
âYou good?â she whispered, voice tight.
âYeah,â you breathed.
You didnât move. Actually, you didnât want to.
âEllie.â
She exhaled your name like it had been stuck in her throat. She looked like she was physically restraining herself from doing something reckless.
âHeyâŚâ her grip tightened slightly. âWhat are the odds of you letting me kiss you right now?â
Heat surged through you. A memory of blue hallway light, a fake smudge.
A thumb against your cheek and you held her gaze.
âThe odds are high, Ellie.â
Ellie swallowed. A tiny, nervous nod.
âOkay,â she murmured. âGood.â
Then she leaned in and closed the distance.
Ellie tasted like soda and felt like pure electricity.
She pulled you fully on top of her, her hands losing their hesitation as they slid up your back, mapping the skin beneath your shirt. You let out a soft sound into her mouth, your head starting to spin as she kissed you fervently, her teeth grazing your lower lip.
You reached for her â grabbing at her arms, the back of her neck, the copper strands of her hair â but no matter how close you got, it didnât feel like enough.
You wanted to be closer. You wanted to crawl under her skin.
When she threaded her fingers into your hair and tilted your head back to find the sensitive skin of your neck, you completely lost your grip on reality.
You let your head fall back, a shaky breath escaping you, finally understanding why the neighbors had been so goddamn loud.
Her hands, which had been gripping your hips, stilled. She pulled back just enough to look at you, her green eyes wide and dark in the dim light of the room.Â
âCan IâŚ?â she breathed, the question hanging in the air, thick with want. You just nodded, unable to form words, and her hand slipped from your waist, sliding under the loose elastic waistband of your pajama bottoms.
Her fingers were tentative at first, tracing the line of your panties before they dipped lower, through the leg hole and directly against your soaked folds. A sharp hiss escaped you. The air was filled with the wet, slick sounds of her exploring you. She found your clit, and you bucked against her hand.Â
âFuck,â you whispered, your head falling back. She wasnât a talker, not then; she let her fingers do the work, circling the hard nub before sliding lower to gather your wetness. You were so fucking slick, your arousal coating her fingers in a thick, glossy sheen.
She pulled back to look, her gaze fixed on where her hand disappeared into your pants. With her free hand, she hooked her thumb into the fabric, pulling it aside. Her fingers returned, and this time she used her other thumb to gently pull back the hood of your clit.Â
The bundle of nerves was swollen and flushed, peeking out from its sheath, and she stared at it for a second, mesmerized. Then she sank two fingers knuckle-deep into your cunt.
A guttural moan was torn from your throat. You didnât wait, didnât give yourself time to adjust. You started to ride her hand, rocking your hips in a steady, demanding rhythm. The couch springs creaked in time with your movements as you fucked yourself on her fingers.Â
She watched you, her mouth slightly agape, her eyes dark with a concentration so intense it was almost reverent. She curled her fingers just right, and when her thumb found your clit again, rubbing tight, hard circles, your legs started to shake.
âEllie,â you gasped, her name a broken prayer on your lips. The pressure built, a tight coil in your gut, and you leaned down, crashing your mouth against hers. The kiss was nasty, all tongue and desperation.Â
You ground down harder, chasing your release, and when it hit, it was a blinding, silent wave that left you trembling and breathless.
You slid off her lap, your knees hitting the floor with a soft thud. You started your descent, kissing a trail down her body. You lingered on the sharp line of her jaw, the hollow of her throat, the dip of her navel.Â
You could feel her muscles quivering under your touch. When you reached the space between her thighs, you saw it: a dark, damp spot on the grey fabric of her boxers, a clear sign of her own arousal.
You hooked your fingers into her waistband and pulled her boxers down. Her pussy was perfect, neat and glistening with wetness. You leaned in, flattening your tongue and giving her one long, slow lick from her entrance to her clit.Â
Her whole body jerked, and her hands flew to your hair, her fingers tangling in the strands, holding on for dear life. She was writhing under you, soft, breathy whimpers escaping her lips.
You used your thumbs to spread her open, your gaze fixed on the swollen, pink pearl of her clit. Just as she had done to you, you gently pulled back the hood, exposing the sensitive nerve endings. You leaned in and closed your mouth around it, sucking hard.
Ellie cried out, her back arching off the couch. You didnât let up, alternating between sucking and flicking your tongue against the hard little nub. You could feel her getting closer, her thighs tightening around your head, her grip on your hair becoming almost painful.Â
When she came, she came a lot. A gush of wetness flooded your mouth, so much it almost dripped down your chin. You lapped it up, determined to get every last drop.
You crawled back up her body, her limbs limp and pliant beneath you. You kissed her, letting her taste herself on your tongue. She was panting, her eyes glassy and unfocused. You pulled back just enough to look at her, a smug, satisfied smirk playing on your lips.
âTold you,â you whispered. âSex doesnât need all that screaming.â
The aftermath wasnât some grand, cinematic shift. It was quiet. You spent most of Saturday scrubbing the bathroom and cycling through loads of laundry while Ellie was out, presumably at Joelâs or hunting for some obscure tech part across town. By the time she drifted back in, you were already halfway to sleep, leaving the air between you thick but untouched.
Sunday morning, you slipped out for lunch with Jesse while Ellie was still dead to the world. You found yourself at a place that charged twenty dollars for avocado toast, but as you took the first bite, you had to admit it was worth the corporate exploitation.
Jesse was mid-sentence, gesturing with a fry. âIâm telling you, itâs in the eyes. Mila from HR looks at me, and itâs like⌠thereâs something there.â
âJesse,â you said, reaching for your coffee. âMila looks at everyone like that. Itâs called being professionally polite. Sheâs HR. Thatâs literally the job description.â
âYouâre unbelievable,â he groaned. âShe laughed at my joke about the printer jam. A real laugh.â
âEveryone laughs at that joke because they want you to stop talking.â
You leaned back, the steam from your coffee hitting your face. The words slipped out before you could reconsider them.
âBesides, Iâve had enough drama at the apartment. I hooked up with Ellie.â
Jesse dearly choked. He coughed violently, eyes widening as he set his glass down.
âWait.â A beat. âYouâre serious?â
You frowned. âYeah. I mean, I like her. Whatâs the issue?â
Jesse stared at you like youâd just confessed to time travel. âMan⌠Iâm just shocked Ellie finally made a move.â
You blinked. âWhat do you mean?â
Jesse leaned forward slightly, expression flattening into pure disbelief. âYou cannot be serious.â
âI am very serious, Jesse. What?â
He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. âEllie has had the most painfully obvious crush on you since day one.â
You froze. Jesse continued, voice calmer now, matter-of-fact.
âDina used to talk about it all the time. Ellie would bring up these tiny details about you â weirdly specific stuff. Your routines. Your coffee order. Things you said once and probably forgot.â He shook his head. âSheâs been circling you for months, but sheâs Ellie. Overthinking, panicking, assuming youâd never be into her.â
Heat crept up your neck, slow and unavoidable.
âSo no,â Jesse added, leaning back. â You basically walked into a long-running emotional disaster.â
You swallowed, hard. Suddenly very aware of your coffee.
âWe havenât really talked about it,â you admitted quietly. âItâs been⌠weirdly quiet.â
âOh, man. Sheâs absolutely spiraling then,â Jesse winced.
You looked up. âWhat?â
âKnowing Ellie?â He snorted softly. âSheâs probably replaying every interaction youâve ever had, convinced she screwed something up.â
âI just havenât had time to sit her down,â you muttered.
Jesse studied you for a moment, tone shifting slightly. âIs this just a hook-up?â
The question landed heavier than expected.
âBecause if it is,â he continued, voice steady, âthatâs gonna make your whole living situation a nightmare. And Ellie? She doesnât really do casual.â
You thought about it. About her stupid dinosaur shirts, her careful hands. You thought about how coming home didnât feel like obligation anymore.
âNo,â you said, voice firm. âIt wasnât just a hook-up.â
Jesse nodded once. Like that answer made perfect sense. And it did. You couldnât let her sit in that room thinking she was a one-night mistake. You needed to fix it.
On the way home, you decided, youâd stop by that weird corner store again. Youâd buy her another ridiculous DVD â something with bad CGI and a completely nonsensical plot â and tell her exactly how much you wanted to kiss her again.
The corner store was dark, a âClosedâ sign mockingly swinging in the window. You stared at it for a beat, realizing the universe wasnât going to let you hide behind a ten-dollar plastic case this time. Words would have to be enough. You werenât about to trek across town just to find a copy of Sharknado 3.
The apartment felt cavernous when you walked in. Usually, there was at least the low hum of a video game or the sound of Ellie shifting around in the kitchen, but it was dead quiet. You made a beeline for her room, your heart doing a nervous staccato against your ribs.
You knocked â once, twice â but there was no answer. Panic flickered briefly in your chest before you slowly pushed the door open.
The blue light was off. Her bed was made, her monitors dark, and the room felt strangely sterile. Ellie wasnât there. You frowned, checking your watch. It was Sunday evening; Ellie never left the apartment on Sundays. She usually spent the day decompressing and mentally preparing for her remote workweek.
You pulled out your phone, feeling relief when you saw a notification from an hour ago.
Ellie: heeey donât freak out but i went home for a couple of days. my sister went into labor so i came to see if my niece is ugly and whatnot. iâll be back wednesday. lemme know if you accept markâs invitation.
A small smile tugged at your mouth. You remembered her mentioning Sarah was due any day now. You could practically hear her voice behind the message, that familiar layer of sarcasm barely masking the excitement underneath.
You: Will do. Good luck with the baby. Try not to tell her sheâs ugly to her face.
The apartment felt twice as empty after you hit send. You went through the motions of your Sunday routine â showering, laying out clothes for Monday, prepping your bag for the office. Everything was organized, seamless, and entirely boring.
Eventually, you wandered back into the living room and sank onto the pull-out couch. Your face heated instantly as your eyes landed on the corner of the cushions â the exact spot where everything between you had finally detonated. The memory was vivid enough to make your pulse pick up speed.
You grabbed the remote and turned on a random movie, something about a bank heist youâd seen a dozen times before. You leaned back, expecting to finally relax, but after ten minutes, you realized you hadnât processed a single line of dialogue.
You kept waiting for a voice to chime in â to complain about the getaway car, to call the explosion âcomplete bullshit,â to spiral into some deeply unnecessary technical rant.
Your eyes drifted to the empty space beside you.
Well, you thought, tossing the remote onto the coffee table with a sigh. This is no fun without that dork talking her head off.
Wednesday suddenly felt impossibly far away.
When you walked through the door on Wednesday, the apartment finally felt like it had oxygen in it again. You sensed her before you even saw her â those trashed Converse were kicked haphazardly by the mat, and her backpack was slumped near the couch, looking like it was one overstuffed zipper away from an explosion.
Your heels clicked rhythmically against the hardwood. Usually, the first thing you did was tear them off to save your feet, but today you didnât care. You just wanted to see her.
Her bedroom door was cracked, spilling a deep, moody purple light into the hall. You knocked softly twice before pushing it open. The glow was so saturated it turned your white office blouse a soft shade of violet.
Ellie was hunched over her desk, headphones clamped over her ears, brow furrowed as she stared at lines of code that looked like a foreign language to you.
âEllie?â
No response. You stepped in and nudged the back of her chair. She jumped, nearly knocking her mouse off the pad, and yanked the headphones down around her neck.
âJesus â Oh. Hey,â She blinked at you, clearly rattled. She shifted in her chair, trying to recover. âYouâre home.â
Her hair was down again, short copper wisps messy around her ears.
âHow was it?â you asked, leaning against the doorframe. âHow ugly is the niece?â
Ellieâs face lit up instantly. âSheâs actually⌠Man, sheâs tiny. Like â ridiculously tiny. And not nearly as ugly as I expected. And the best part? I caught Joel crying. Full-on tears. Dude didnât even try to hide it. Iâve got blackmail material for life.â
You laughed, enjoying the way her hands moved when she got animated. But as the story trailed off, the air in the room shifted. It grew quieter, the purple light making everything feel smaller, more intimate. You walked over and sat on the edge of her bed, facing her.
âHey,â you said softly. âI wanted to talk about last Friday. Before you had to leave.â
Ellieâs bravado flickered. She started picking at a loose thread on her thumb, gaze dropping immediately.
âYeah. About that.â She cleared her throat. âI didnât mean to just⌠disappear. It was the baby thing and everything kinda blew up at once.â
âEllie,â you said gently, âI wanted to let you know that I really like you. A lot. And Iâve liked you for a while now.â
She went completely still. Slowly, she looked up at you, eyes scanning your face like she was waiting for the punchline. When none came, she exhaled shakily.
âOh,â a beat. âOh⌠okay.â
She rubbed the back of her neck, cheeks flushing pink.
âI mean â Jesse probably told you, but Iâve been completely screwed about you since you moved in.â A small, embarrassed shake of her head. âI used to think I was being subtle.â
âYou werenât that subtle,â you teased. âBut I think the dorkiness actually did it for me. The puns, the dinosaurs, the lectures⌠itâs charming.â
âSeriously?â Ellie squinted at you. She leaned back slightly, mock-offended. âWow. Thatâs brutal.â
âYou love it.â
âYeah, yeah,â she muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched. âIâm absolutely holding that against you forever.â
âSure you are.â
Ellie stood from her chair. In the purple light, her silhouette was sharp, expression shifting from shy to something more daring. She stepped toward the bed, bending slightly as she reached your face. Her hands were warm as she cupped your cheeks, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to your lips.
You reached up, grabbing the hem of her shirt and tugging her down with you as you scooted back onto the mattress.
She broke the kiss briefly, hovering inches from your face. A sudden, mischievous spark flickered in her eyes.
âYou wanna get revenge on our neighbors?â she murmured.
You blinked. âRevenge?â
âTheyâve been keeping us up for months.â Her voice dropped slightly. âFeels fair.â
Before you could answer, she reached for the first button of your blouse, gaze locked onto yours. âOkay?â
âOkay,â you breathed.
Her fingers, slightly clumsy but determined, had just finished unbuttoning your blouse. She didnât pull it off, just pushed the fabric aside, her mouth immediately finding the swell of your breast.Â
She kissed the soft skin, her tongue tracing the edge of the thin, lacy bra you wore before closing her lips over your nipple, sucking the fabric and the peak beneath into a tight, wet point.
While her mouth was occupied, her hands drifted lower, a surprising dexterity in her movements as she unbuttoned your pants. She tugged them down your hips, a weird expertise you didn't really expect from her, taking them down with a single, smooth pull.Â
Her mouth never left your body, a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses following the path her hands had just taken. When she got to your navel, she pressed a few quick kisses around it before kneeling back on her heels and pulling the rest of the fabric from your legs, tossing it aside.
You were panting, your chest rising and falling, and so was she, her breath coming in short, excited bursts from the sheer thrill of getting to do this again. She lay down on her stomach, her elbows propped on the mattress, and pulled you closer by the backs of your knees.Â
She maneuvered your legs over her shoulders, settling you against her mouth. She gave one last look up at you, those pretty, sunken eyes dark with a hunger that made your stomach clench, before she dove in.
She started licking over the thin cotton of your panties, her tongue flat and wide, soaking the fabric until it was nearly transparent. When she deemed them wet enough, she pulled the fabric taut over your pussy, the white cotton smushing your clit, outlining it perfectly.Â
She used her fingers to slowly rub the sensitive nub through the saturated material, and you started writhing under her, the maddening, indirect stimulation making you desperate. Her name was a breathy moan on your lips.
Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, she pushed the panties to the side. And then, in a movement so fluid you barely registered it, she reached into her nightstand drawer and pulled out a small, sleek clit stimulator.Â
She went back to work, her tongue licking and sucking on your now-exposed, swollen clit while her fingers spread your slick around your lips before sinking two fingers inside of you.Â
She didn't give you a moment to breathe, immediately fucking into you hard, her fingers curling with every thrust. Her eyes never left your pussy, completely mesmerized by the sight of her fingers disappearing into you, by how wet you were.
Then, she pressed the vibrator against your clit. The sudden, intense buzzing sensation was electric.Â
"Fuck, Ellie, oh fuck," you cried out, your back arching off the bed. It was too much and not enough all at once. The combination of her fingers pumping into you and the relentless stimulation on your clit was overwhelming.Â
It didn't take long for the pressure to snap, a blinding, powerful orgasm tearing through you, leaving you a shaking, gasping mess.
When you both came down, you were lying side by side, the room quiet except for your slowing breaths. She turned onto her side to face you, a shy but proud little smile on her face.Â
"Next time," she said, her voice still a little hoarse, "I'm gonna make the whole building hear you."
You looked over at her, a matching smirk playing on your lips. "Confident, are we?"
The last thing you thought about before the world narrowed down to just her was that you really owed Mark and Nathalie a thank-you note.
You didnât even bother with the formality of knocking this time. You just pushed the door open and slipped inside, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you let out a wide, bone-deep yawn.
Ellie was hunched over at her desk, the glow of the monitors reflecting in her eyes as she focused on whatever was happening on her PS5. You drifted over behind her, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to the top of her head.
âTheyâre at it again,â you murmured, your voice thick with exhaustion. âIâm crashing here, if you donât mind.â
Ellie barely looked away from the screen.
âYeah, no kidding,â she muttered. âGo for it.â
You made a beeline for her bed and slid under the covers. The sheets were warm, the room filled with that familiar, comforting hum of her computer fans. You stared up at the ceiling for a moment, listening to the muffled, rhythmic thumping starting up again next door.
âI was thinkingâŚâ you said, your voice drifting lazily through the purple-lit room. âWe should totally start our own channel. I bet we could get rich from it.â
Ellie paused her game. Her chair creaked as she leaned back slightly.
âLike⌠a YouTube channel?â She squinted toward you. âWhat would we even do? Yell at bad sci-fi for money?â
âNo,â you said, a mischievous edge creeping into your voice. âLike our neighbors.â
Ellie went quiet, then she shrugged. âYou know what? Not the worst business model Iâve ever heard.â
You laughed softly into her pillow.
âIâd pay off my PS5 in like⌠a week,â she added. âIâll handle the tech.â
âDeal.â
A couple of hours later, the apartment was dark and the neighbors finally quiet. You felt the mattress dip as Ellie crawled into bed beside you. You felt her hand brush your forehead as she gently pushed your hair away from your face, followed by the soft, warm press of a kiss against your cheek.
Then you felt her fingers at the end of the bed.
True to her quiet, observant nature, Ellie tugged thick socks over your feet, making sure you wouldnât wake up freezing in the middle of the night.
When she finally settled behind you, pulling you flush against her chest, sleep claimed you quickly. Dreams blurred into warmth â filled with terrible puns, unnecessary space lore, and that crooked, dorky grin. Still a loser, you thought as you drifted deeper into the haze. Even in my dreams.
tysm for reading!! i feel like a writing machine i literally can't stop. lemme know if u guys have any suggestions! hope you enjoyed. see u next time!
song from the title: sweet nothing by taylor swift
I LOVE MASSIVE NERD AND DORKY ELLIE ARGHHHH









