𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒓 ᖭི༏ᖫྀ 𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚖𝚜

chapter seventeen : when these truths come spilling out

[XVII]

THE MOVIE was just as wonderful as I had remembered.

Sure, Patrick Swayze as Johnny wasn't as gorgeous as I remember my mum saying. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a hopeless romantic when it came to his and Baby's love story in Dirty Dancing.

"So," Ellie started, munching on Cheetos avidly, "what's the deal with this 'Johnny' guy?"

I snorted. I knew she'd likely have a problem with the story's notorious bad boy.

"What, Ellie? Don't you think he's handsome?"

She paused for a moment, tongue pressed to the inside of her cheek.

"He's not, uh..." she glanced over to me, arm draped lazily over her knee as her eyes briefly flickered over me, and then back to the television. "...my type, exactly."

"Leather jackets and sunglasses aren't your type, eh? Tell me then," I started, dragging out the bottle of tequila from behind me and opening it in front of her, "what is your type, Williams? Or is no one on this earth worthy?"

She chuckled nervously, scratching the back of her neck as she eyed the room around us. I tried my best to conceal my apprehension- or more precisely- my eagerness, in finding out what ticked her boxes. Somehow sharing little gossipy details was something I had dearly missed from my girlhood, and I wouldn't mind at all if that person's secrets were Ellie's. I took a gulp from the bottle and coughed bitterly as that familiar alcoholic burn simultaneously calmed and excited me further.

"Okay so...my type? Uh..." she attempted, still as awkward as before. "I don't know, kind? Smart?"

"Beep! Wrong answer. Now you drink as forfeit."

She looked at me in disbelief. "How can it be a wrong answer? It's my type."

"It's boring as shit, dumbass," I said, passing the bottle over. She seemed disconcerted, but grabbed the bottle anyways, taking a semi-grumpy swig from it as she stared at me indignantly.

"Fine, I like...curves. Softness. Deep eyes, long lashes. Full lips. Someone who can sometimes pin me down but not always. A partner in crime."

She looked away as she spoke, as if she was afraid to face me and say all of this. A part of me understood; she was bearing a lot of personal information in one sitting, and whoever it was she was thinking of must have meant a lot to her. It was a beautiful description, though. A romantic and sensual gesture, enough to set my cheeks on fire and my insides with them. I felt almost envious. Almost.

"Well I'll drink to that," I said, swiping the tequila off of her once again and having my way with it.

"What about you then, Crumpets?"

I rolled my eyes in usual response but thought about it carefully. I had to make my answer even better than hers to impress her, so intricate and sensitive that it brought tears to her very eyes. I thought about what it was I really liked about a person, what really made my head turn.

"Not gonna lie...boobs."

She choked on the mouthful of spirit she just had, upon snatching back the bottle, and spluttered into her sleeve.

"What?"

She looked at me indignantly. "You're...?"

I tried not to feel a little crestfallen as I witnessed her reaction. If she had some old fashioned views, it would ruin this whole experience. I didn't want to think about it, but I asked defensively,