Page 72 of Holly Jolly July

I blow out a breath, tingles running down my arms. “Fuck, that was good.”

“Yeah, you killed it with the makeup!” Ellie lifts a hand for a high-five, and I oblige wholeheartedly.

“What about you with those camera angles!”

“And you said you couldn’t act, but you did great!”

“Only because you were directing. Seriously, you’re multitalented.”

She beams. “Thank you.”

Suddenly our close proximity feels different. She’s been snuggled against me half the night, seemingly unaware of personal space, but just like in the film, there’s a shift.

My heart notices first, picking up its pace, stuttering in my throat. My mouth notices second, becoming dry, my lips parting, breath coming in slower. It’s not just me; Ellie feels it, too. Her eyes fall to my lips like they had in the film, and her throat works, swallowing.

I want to go further than the film. I want to bridge the space between us, to close the last inch separating her mouth from mine, to feel her against me. I want to pull her smaller frame against mine, to feel her body, to trail my fingers along her jaw, to taste her in so many places that the spark in my belly is quickly fanned to a flame.

But I’m not sure. Ellie’s never mentioned being into women—maybe she isn’t. Maybe this—whatever it is between us—is brought on by circumstance, by alcohol, by something other than mutual attraction. I don’t want to take advantage. And I don’t want her to do anything with me unless she’s sure.

I’ll never make that mistake again.

I pull back.

Ellie blinks a few times, then shifts away.

The tension between us is still there, slowly dissipating, becoming uncomfortable.

“Um. Do you mind if I post this?” I ask, raising my phone, hoping to bring some normalcy back between us.

Ellie nods. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

“I don’t have many followers, but this is definitely my best work.” I add a caption and a few hashtags before publishing.

Ellie gets up and returns a moment later with her phone. “What’s your name on there?”

I tell her, and she taps away at her phone. “Well, now you have one more follower. I love TikTok, mostly for the dancing, but I follow some people who do makeup already. Look, thisis my favourite TikToker.” She shows me a video of a woman in Pokémon cosplay lip-syncing and dancing, her big boobs bouncing with every move she makes, her huge anime eyes glinting coyly.

I smirk. “Yeah, she’s a great... dancer.”

Ellie nods, then flips through a few more videos on her For You Page, most of them full-figured women in revealing outfits, dancing or singing. “Yeah, it’s such a rabbit hole. I could watch these all day.”

My smile grows, along with a seedling of hope in my belly. “I’m sure you could.”

“Anyway,” she says, tucking her phone away and returning her attention to me. “It’s getting pretty late.”

I nod, but don’t move, hoping that she’ll come closer rather than move farther away.

“We both work early tomorrow,” she continues, still not moving.

I nod again, beckoning her closer with my eyes, hoping she’ll give me another opportunity to close the space between us.

But she doesn’t.

Ellie finally stands and makes her way toward the bedroom. I’m immediately cold without her. She pauses before closing the door, giving me one last look, a small smile. “Sweet dreams.”

“You, too.” Though I’m not sure how I’m supposed to sleep now.

She closes the door, leaving me to my thoughts and regrets for not kissing her when I had the chance. If only I’d seen her TikTok feed minutes earlier; the algorithm doesn’t lie. Fate has a cruel sense of humour.

---