. pool party

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Her lower lip puckers into a pout when he brushes her cheeks with his fingers tips. She hated the idea of needing to be comforted, but the actual act pulls her in like quicksand. Ellie lies gently in their bed, her tears begin to subside and her breathing is less ragged. This was needy and she never let herself need. It felt like growing pains of the heart and like opening a new door to something daunting. "You make me happy," she repeats. For the most part, it's true. She loved them way problems were solved with clashing bodies. She loved how well she knew his body, even outside the bedroom. He was so easy for her to read, just by the way her carried himself across the room. But it sometimes felt like they should be following the rules of their peers, like they were setting themselves up with an expiry date. "Just maybe, you can talk to me," she frowns and reaches for his hand. Her fingers squeeze his, "I'll try talk too."

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He expects her to bat away his touch and he feels sick with guilt when she doesn't. Clearly she needed more from him than he had been willing, or maybe even able, to offer. He moves closer to her on the bed, pulling her body in against his as he lay beside her, his face buried in her hair. The smell of the ocean mixed with her shampoo engulfs him, and he finds that he too is comforted by their closeness, by the fact she hadn't pushed him away. It's also easier to talk like this, without the pressure of eye contact.  And talking is exactly what she suggests. Xander feels a swell of reluctance within himself - why did everyone always want to talk? - but he dampens this down as much as he can. "I can try to," he says, hoping he doesn't sound as reluctant as he feels. Her fingers lace with his and it's encouraging, helping to force more words out of his lips. "You go first," he says, before laughing. "I just don't have that much to say... what do you want to talk about?"

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He pulls her into him and she doesn't even resist. She was usually too busy to be held. Too good to need comfort. But right now she practically melts into him. She rests her face on his arm and presses her lips to his tanned skin. It was easy to mistake lust for romance, but Ellie and Xander were very much anti-romance. Usually she'd cuddle for a minute after sex, before skipping into the next moment. She didn't know how much she needed this. She feels resistance in him but he's really trying. As she feels him laugh awkwardly, she smiles a bit and crooks her head to frown at him. "I just feel really weird inside," she shrugs. She finds it hard to talk about things below the surface. It was probably why they got along well, neither of them wanted to chat. "Like this bomb that's going to explode. Not just now though. Like, all the time. Now I think I just want to murder Lily," she rambles a bit, "guess I'm a psychopath."

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Tenderness was something their relationship lacked. In speech and in action, they were direct with each other, maybe even harsh-- in fact, there was no 'maybe' about it. Their friends often remarked upon how little they seemed to actually like each other, though their sexual attraction was abundant and obvious, so obvious that too made others uncomfortable. Seeing them together always changed the atmosphere of a gathering, adding uneasy tension or, on good days, an uncomfortable sense that they would rather be alone with each other. As a result, they kept very separate friendship groups, very seldom allowing for any crossover. Feeling her ease into the embrace puts him at ease for the first time in weeks, if not months. "That's understandable," he says, though he feels guilty when she mentions Lily. She was a true innocent in this, having no idea what he was up to any more than Ellie had, but he doesn't think saying all of this will do any good. He strokes her hair absentmindedly as he speaks. "What was it like going on a date with someone else?"

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"Ugh," Ellie groans dramatically. She hadn't thought too much about the date since she stepped out of it. She buries her head in his arms as she thinks about the words to say. "Awful. Uncomfortable." She hated the process of meeting new people, getting to know them and letting them know her. "We went on this cringey date to a fancy restaurant and he just kept talking. I was like," she rolls over and looks up at him, "I was like, 'shut up, idiot.' Then I gave him a nosebleed and puked."

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If she hadn't thought about the date at all since it happened, it had been all Xander thought about since he heard. It hadn't surprised him how easily she could pick up a date when she wanted one, after all, she had more marriage proposals per day than he had breaths. But it had shocked him how quickly she'd gone there, though it probably shouldn't have. "He was probably nervous," he says, knowing she'll have looked like an absolute knockout, since she was one. He squeezes her tighter, resisting the urge to point out that she went home with the guy despite how much he talked. "He'll be even more nervous on his next first date, hope you footed the doctor's bill."