Forbidden • Ellie Williams

5

(Sorry I haven't updated this story in a while, I've been super busy)

Rory's POV

I haven't told my parents about what happened with Ellie in the forest last week. I'd probably never see natural sun light again if I did.

I'm not even thinking about the bear anymore, and in all honesty, I probably wasn't even at the time. My mind was completely on Ellie. The way she held me, her arm around me and her hand stroking my hair, the way she comforted to me. I can't stop thinking about it.

I'm sitting up in my bed, my back resting against the headboard. I have the photos from yesterday in my lap and I'm looking through them, my eyes fixed on a specific one of Ellie. A candid one.

She's smiling and laughing in the photo as she walks alongside me. She obviously doesn't know I'm taking the photo, which is why I like it. I can see the real Ellie in it. Not the cold, hard walls she's built up around herself over the years, but the real Ellie. Her canines are slightly crooked, making them look like fangs, and it's kind of hot if I'm being honest. Even though she usually goes out of her way to hide them, they're showing clearly in the photo as she grins, since she's not making an effort to hide her vulnerability.

"Rory!" My mother calls from downstairs, making me snap out of my trance.

"Come help with dinner!"

I sigh and start to stack the pictures back ontop of each other, not putting to much effort into keeping them tidy as I place them on the nightstand.

____

The next morning

Ellie's POV

I'm laying in bed, my phone buzzing with texts on the pillow beside my head. My eyes flutter open and I groan softly, grabbing my phone and squinting at the brightness.

My vision is foggy and I'm half asleep, but I make out the words "band practice" on the screen. I don't even have time to register the message before I drift back to sleep.

I wake up again 20 minutes later, now a little more conscious because I've gotten a fair amount of rest. I yawn and run a hand through my hair as I sit up, grabbing my phone. The screen has a few cracks scattered across it and the case was lost long ago. The first thing I see is multiple texts and calls from my bandmates, telling me how late for practice I am.

"Fuck." I mutter, a wave of nausea from the hangover hitting me like a train as I push myself up off the bed. I rub my forehead and groan softly from the pounding ache before I pick up my hoodie and jeans from the floor. I wore the same clothes yesterday, but in all honesty, I couldn't care less.

Once my jeans are on, I yawn softly and walk over to my disarrayed closet, grabbing a t-shirt to wear under my hoodie. Once my t-shirt is on and I've pulled my hoodie on over it to warm my skin from the harsh Wyoming winter, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror standing by the dresser. I have multiple dark hickeys littered across my throat and a lipstick stain smeared across my mouth. I don't wear lipstick so it's obviously not mine. I glance groggily around the room when I notice a few empty bottles of vodka on the bed and tipped over on the floor.

I have no clue what I got up to last night but I think it's best I don't look into it.

I grab a smoke from the nightstand and a lighter from the drawer. I place the cigarette between my lips before I light the end, then toss the lighter back on the mattress.

As it hits the sheets, I hear a small, groggy groan and I glance over to where it came from. I see a figure laying in my bed, her naked body only partially covered by the blanket. I recognize her vaguely from school, and she's hot as hell so I'm annoyed that I was too drunk last night to remember fucking her.