Between the lines • a between us sequel (Ellie Williams x female oc)

𝟔 • 𝗅𝗈/𝗁𝗂

Sky

"Are you sure you can't stay home tonight?"

I was walking past Abby in the hallway, going into my room, and then back to the bathroom, rushing to get ready.

"I told you, Abs. One of the girls called out, and it's Friday night. They're gonna need me."

Abby maneuvers from the hall to the opened bathroom door, leaning against it.

I was finishing my makeup, drawing steady lines across my lips when my eyes flicker to her reflection in the mirror.
She looked disappointed, her bottom lip puffing out.

I turn around, capping my lipliner before placing my hands on her upper arms, "I'll take it easy, okay? Stop worrying, I'm fine."

She's looked down, eyes to the wood planks below her feet before looking up, "Okay."

-

And I was fine. A little sore and sleepy, but overall, I was actually in good spirits.

There was a good crowd tonight.
No one was being creepy or touchy, just a bunch of drunk people enjoying themselves, and getting lost in the club's atmosphere.

There were about three girls, myself included, and a group of men in business attire, wallets full.

They were celebrating, I think. Something about their business... I don't know, and I don't care, just happily going along with their banter as long as the money kept coming.

Perched on his lap, I plucked the cigarette from his lips and brought it to my own, sucking in slowly while looking into his eyes.

He was actually quite handsome- older, maybe around the mid-40's, shallow crows feet wrinkles framing his dark set eyes.

"Where's your wife?" I asked, taking another drag and blowing smoke into the space above us.

His teeth flash- white, but not overly so,
"Recently divorced actually."

My eyebrows raised.

Possibly a narcissist? Oh, or maybe, a sociopath?

"Ooo- you do something bad?" I asked, but not because I was all that interested, but still, hearing drama other than your own was refreshing once in a while.

Also, I wanted his money, and that meant I had to seem interested.

He takes the cigarette from between my fingers, his hand moving to the base of my back, but never crossing that line.

"Not exactly-" He shifted underneath me, and rubbed the stubble on his face with a index and a thumb, gold ring glimmering on his middle finger, "-We lost our son, he was six."

My face drops.

The pain was still evident in his voice, but I guess that's not something that just goes away or even goes away at all.

I placed my hand on top of his, gesturing my condolences, and I meant it.
As much as I fucking hated sob stories, it felt necessary at times.
It made me realize that these are real people too- that I'm real, and this place is real.
I guess what I really hated was reality checks.

"I'm so sorry."

His head shakes, indicating a silent 'no', "Don't apologize. We're still on good terms. We just had different ways of grieving."
He smiled, and I couldn't tell if it was to try and switch the mood back to where it was or if he was genuinely trying to make me feel better.

I smiled in return but didn't say anything.

"So what about you?"

"Hm?" My eyebrows furrowed, tilting my head.