Worth It

Speak Now

"You're home later than I thought you would be,"

Ellen paused as she heard the last voice she expected to hear in her apartment.

"I told you to leave your key and go. What part of go means staying in my apartment until I got home?" She asked, closing her front door. Ellen stepped into to the kitchen where her ex boyfriend, Chris, sat at the table. He had a book in his hand, an autobiography actually.

"What part of I don't want to break up means me leaving me keys here?" He asked in reply, book marking his book. Ellen groaned, pulling at her hair.

"We're not broken up. We're moving out. We took things too fast and you've been an ass to me lately so I don't want you here and you can take back your rent money. Now go Christopher!" She snatched the keys from the table, putting them in her little apron pocket. Chris stood up, giving her a look.

"I've been trying to be better..." He whined, as if Ellen cared. She sighed.

"Chris go home. I'll call you in the morning, just go home and get drunk and cry there please. Go." She shooed him, and he finally left. Ellen collapsed on her bed, kicking off her heels, and groaning into the pillows. Working as a server wasn't so bad, and decent money. Ellen slid the cash Patrick had given her at the end of the night into her rent jar. It was childish but Ellen didn't trust the bank to keep her money safe, and didn't want to spend rent so she kept a jar for rent.
Oh Patrick. Ellen looked at herself in the mirror, gulping. She had some feelings to explain. Chris was nice, and he didn't want to break up even though Ellen believed his comments just a few days ago meant that he did. She didn't feel appreciated by him, as much anymore. Chris didn't mind her stripping but constantly left notes telling what not to do at work, as some über protective boyfriend. It was getting old but Ellen felt strange without him. She was strong, confident even, but she needed her highschool boyfriend now and again. The break they were taking should be forever but Ellen knew when rent came around again, she'd let him move in. Maybe and just maybe then she'd let him into her heart a little bit.

But then there was Patrick. Ellen couldn't hide her attraction to him if she tried. The way he kept looking at her tonight, his whole stupid noble choice to save her from dancing, it all made Ellen want him. Badly. The fact that at his own wedding rehearsal he made out with her in a supply closet- meant something. Ellen didn't want just a fling with him, she wanted more. Not to be rescued, but to be given the tools to rescue herself. To be with him. She licked her lips, remembering the way his chapped lips felt against hers. He tasted so sweet, like the champagne he was drinking. Ellen threw her head back, why was she like this? Didn't she know better? She also knew better than to follow her fluttering heart but it was too late to stop it.

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Patrick woke up alone in his bed for the first time in ages. Jillian spent the night with her mother, since it was tradition that the bride and groom don't see each other before the big day. He rolled on his side, staring at the rising sun outside the window. Jill was probably up by now starting some beauty regimen anyway. Patrick sighed, thinking about last night. He didn't know what to think. You couldn't exactly cancel a wedding the day of you know. Ellen pulling him in the closet made his skin prickle with anticipation, and he sighed, tasting the gloss on her lips. Patrick chuckled at himself. He could totally be thinking about the way she would grind her body against his, or how she literally came on top of him in the club. But this, this wasn't just lust. God did Patrick want to take her in his arms, and have dirty, sweaty sex with her until it made them hurt. But he also wanted to taste her, to make her feel good, to hold her close to his beating heart. That was where Patrick drew the line between love and lust. Love and lust.
Ellen was...love.
Patrick spent the rest of his day in a haze, getting ready for the wedding. He didn't know what to do. It was suddenly time and he was at the alter, waiting. The wedding march played, and Patrick pictured another face under the veil as Jill walked forward.