If at first you don't succeed, then level the playing field and take a second chance.
Two years ago, Ellie Harrison collapsed under the weight of her past and the fallout that caught up with her. Like a shell of her former self, she retreated away f...
"Woah, what?" I held up my palms. "I know it's demanding, which is why I appreciate you so much."
I took one step towards her, my arms open but she held up one hand and stopped me.
"Don't." Her beautiful face wrenched into a scowl. "Just don't. I need a little space, this tiny fucking apartment, you, I'm being smothered."
I'm smothering her? I had no idea.
"I can go hang out with Wes," I offered. "Do you want some time alone, take a bath or -"
"Why do I need a bath?" Her head tilted slightly sideways. "You're the one who stinks up the apartment with your stupid, sweaty football bag, not me."
Where the hell is this coming from? Is it a cauliflower side effect? I know she's been hiding them in our food.
Before now, I assumed Ellie liked my constant physical affection. In fact, her hands grabbed me just as much, which I was more than okay with.
"I'm going to take a shower," she huffed and stomped into the bedroom, where I heard drawers and the closet door banged shut.
"I'll just... come back... later," I mumbled and grabbed my keys. After I stared at the door shut behind me for a few moments and wondered what demon had possessed my normally sweet girlfriend, I walked down the hall and knocked on Wes and Charlie's door.
He swung the door open right away, coat and keys in his hand and a slightly annoyed expression on his face.
"Hey." I stepped aside and let him out. "Ellie wanted some space, so -"
"I can still see it, so your ass better be leaving, Wes!" Apparently, moody chemicals were in the air or water supply because Charlie walked out of their bedroom and looked just as irritated as Ellie had.
"Leaving now... babe," he called over his shoulder, then rolled his eyes.
Once Charlie slammed the door behind Wes, we stood awkwardly in the hallway and scratched ourselves. Not literally, I rubbed my palm over the back of my neck and Wes picked at his chin.
"So uhh... What are we doing?" I finally found my voice. "My plan was to hang out at your place."
"Mine was at yours," he admitted with a small laugh, then spun his keys around his index finger. "I have an idea, come on."
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"Glad we found something you're shit at." Wes grinned up at me, bent over with his left arm extended and right hand grasped around his stick.
The apparent pool shark flicked his stick forwards, knocked the white cue ball with a clicked contact, and pocketed his number seven in the corner pocket. We'd grabbed one of the nine pool tables in the same building Ellie suggested where we met Emmitt and Amy for our Anatomy project group tomorrow.
Emmitt.
My hands clenched tight around my pool stick at the sappy, dopey look he constantly gave Ellie before, during, and after Anatomy class. I wasn't sure if his round eyes, adoring compliments, and bright smile reminded me more of a lost puppy or a teenager with his first crush but didn't like either. What pissed me off the most wasn't that he was a tool, or a player, and while I wasn't as easily convinced as Ellie that he hadn't taken advantage of situations presented to him, he still bothered me.
