Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Eleanor, where’s Brighton?”

“I don’t know, why would I know?” She asks as her father runs his hands through his hair, the stress from the big party getting to him.

“That boy is gonna kill me.” She grumbles as he wanders off.

The clinking of champagne glasses and the murmur of high society chatter filled the foyer of her family’s glamorous West Coast house. Ellie floats through the crowd like a vision from a fashion magazine. Her sleek brunette curls frame a face that’s both effortlessly beautiful and meticulously polished.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Her boyfriend, Simon, asks.

“Yeah, of course.” She nods as he takes her hand and begins to lead her to a quiet corner away from the guests.

He takes both of her hands as he turns to her with a small smile.

“You look so beautiful, you know that?”

“Stop it,” She rolls her eyes with a wide grin as she places a hand on his chest.

“Baby, I have to talk to you about something,” He starts before taking a deep breath. “Well, you know I’ll be going to college soon and it’s gonna take up a whole lot of my time. This is something I’ve wanted for so long. It’s time to start thinking about my future- our future, you know? I mean, look at you. You’re so…unlike anyone I’ve ever met. You’re like a brunette Malibu Barbie. It’s time for us to get serious, Ellie. I think we should break up.”

“WHAT?”

“Look, let me just-“

“You’re breaking up with me? Me?” She raises her voice before bursting into tears.

“You’re breaking up with me right now? At this party? After everything?”
Simon tries to reach for her, but Ellie steps back, her hands trembling.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, Ellie. I just think this is the best decision for both of us. I need to focus on my career and—” Simon’s face is a mix of guilt and resignation.

“I knew you were gonna do this! I knew it!” She hits his chest with not a lot of force. “You are an asshole.”

“El-“

“I love you,” She breathes out. “That’s not enough?”

“I… I have to focus if I’m gonna be-“

“Just stop.” She sniffles.

“Baby,” He sighs. “I’m going home, alright? I’m sorry.”

She crosses her arms and leans against the wall, sliding down until she’s sitting. Ellie sits against the wall, trying to steady her breathing. Her brother, Brighton, storms into the alcove, his face lit up with mischief.

“Ellie!” He exclaims, barely pausing as he pulls out a small, colorful canister. “You have to see this.”

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in your room.” Ellie asks, her voice hoarse from crying.

Before he can answer, he puts his plan into action. He shakes a canister in his hands, and a mischievous sparkle lights up his eyes. Brighton twists the canister open, and a burst of glitter erupts into the air. It sparkles and floats down like confetti, landing on the guests and the expensive decor.

A few gasps and shrieks punctuate the chaos as the glitter covers everything in sight. Ellie watches in a mix of horror and amusement as her father, looking horrified, rushes over, his eyes scanning the room for the source of the disturbance.

“Brighton!” He shouts, spotting his son. “What have you done?”

“Just adding a bit of sparkle to the party.” Brighton shrugs innocently, though his smirk betrays his amusement.

“This is a disaster! Get out of here, both of you! Ellie, go fix your face. Don’t come back until you look presentable!” Her father’s face turns a deep shade of red.

Ellie’s heart sinks as her father’s anger cuts through her fragile state. She nods, standing up slowly, her mascara streaked and her eyes puffy from crying. She takes one last look at the chaotic scene and then heads for her room, her brother trailing behind.

In her room, Ellie looks at her reflection in the mirror, the glitter on her dress and the tear-streaked makeup only amplifying her distress. She doesn’t bother to take off her makeup or change as she lays down on her back and shuts her eyes.

A few days have passed since the party. Ellie remains holed up in her room, her reflection in the mirror shows a weariness that no amount of makeup can conceal, her eyes still puffy from the tears she’s shed.

Ellie sits on the edge of her bed, flipping through a stack of magazines she hasn’t had the energy to read until now. She absently scans the glossy pages, trying to distract herself from the ache in her chest.

The sound of her father’s muffled voice from downstairs breaks the silence, and Ellie’s thoughts are interrupted. She sighs and glances around her room, feeling more trapped than ever. Simon’s words replay in her mind over and over. She loved him. She did everything right, didn’t she? But now, she has nothing. No future with him, no direction.

As she stares blankly at the pages, something catches her eye—a brochure for Backupsmore University. It’s tucked between the magazines, a forgotten relic of an idea she never seriously entertained.

Until now.

A thought begins to take shape in her mind. She picks up one of the brochures and flips through it, her eyes catching on the descriptions of campus life and the opportunities available. The idea of starting fresh somewhere new begins to appeal to her, not as a way to win Simon back, but as a chance to reinvent herself.

Ellie’s heart races as the idea forms. She could apply to Backupsmore herself, follow Simon, and get him back. It’s a bold move, but things to regain control over your life are rarely a safe bet. She could apply. She could make this work. She could prove that she’s more than just a pretty face at high society parties.

With a sense of determination, she begins to search through the brochures and gather information. As she writes down notes and makes plans, everything feels lighter.

When she’s done, she sees that her parents are sitting by the pool through her window. She doesn’t need another moment to quickly make her way down the stairs. Ellie stands in front of the glass doors for a moment to think about what she wants to say.

Her father is rarely difficult but always condescending. Her stepmother is a raging alcoholic.

She watches her parents lounging by the pool, her father with a newspaper in hand, and her stepmother sipping on a martini. Ellie, still in her sundress from earlier, straightens her posture and strides toward them, determined to make her case.

“I need to talk to you,” She says, folding her arms. Her voice is soft but purposeful.

“About what?” Her father lowers the newspaper, raising an eyebrow.

“I want to go to Backupsmore University.” She tells them and her stepmother glances up, startled.

“Eleanor, darling, where is this coming from?” She asks.

“I’ve thought about it a lot. I need to start over, and Backupsmore is the perfect place. I can learn and…and figure out what I really want to do with my life.” She pauses, her gaze steady. “And I need your support.”

“Support, as in... financial support?” Her father narrows his eyes.

“I want to make this work. Please, just give me this chance. I know it sounds sudden, but I’ve never been more sure about anything.” She nods.

“What would you even study?” Her stepmother asks.

“Psychology,” El answers almost too quickly. “It’s practical.”

“Backupsmore? Isn’t that the place Simon is going to? And isn’t he studying psychology?” Her stepmother takes a long sip of her martini, considering.

“That’s not why. This is about me. I need to prove I can stand on my own and be more than what people expect.” Ellie's heart skips a beat.

“Eleanor, darling, Backupsmore is for poor, sad, nerds. Why on earth would you want to go there?” He asks.

“Because I need change. I don’t want you to buy my way into a better school or anything, I can figure it out there.”

“If this is what you really want, El... fine. We’ll support you.” He sighs.

“Thank you, thank you! I won’t let you down.” Relief floods through her as she runs over to hug him, him barely returning the hug.

Ellie steps onto the bustling campus, her new Mary Janes clicking against the pavement. The manicured lawns, towering buildings, and swarms of students moving to their next orientation session overwhelm her senses. She clutches her campus map in one hand, sunglasses perched on her head. She isn’t sure what exactly she’s looking for here, other than the love of her life, but whatever it is, it has to be better than the glitter-stained disaster she left behind.

The campus is lively with groups of students lounging on the grass, others rushing to class, and some looking just as lost as she feels. Ellie walks past them, chin held high as she tries to adopt the same confident attitude she had back at home. But this place is nothing like home. Here, no one knows who she is—or more importantly, who she’s supposed to be.

She’s more uncertain than she’s ever been as she walks up to the table with slightly older kids sitting. The school is surprisingly huge and she realizes just how different these California people are from other California people.

"Hey! You new here?"

She looks up to see a tall, gangly guy with tousled hair and thick glasses standing in front of her, a bright blue lanyard around his neck. She nods nervously, trying to put on a smile. He’s standing next to a large banner that reads “Welcome Freshmen!” and holding a clipboard.

“I’m Fiddleford McGucket,” He introduces himself with a slight Southern twang, offering a hand. “Orientation leader for today. I’ll be helpin’ you get acquainted with Backupsmore.”

Ellie blinks, caught off guard by his upbeat demeanor and casual appearance. He’s wearing a tattered plaid shirt and jeans, his hair a bit wild, like he just rolled out of bed. He looks nothing like anyone she’s ever hung out with before.

“I’m Ellie,” She says, sticking her hand out to him. He takes it, shaking it rather aggressively.

“So, Ellie,” Fiddleford says, squinting at her. “What brings you to Backupsmore?”

"A new chapter, I guess.” Ellie shrugs, her smile light but determined.

"Well, welcome! Follow me; I'll show you around. So, what’s your major?” He asks.

“Psychology. Is that hard?”

"Psychology? Well, uh, yeah, it can be challenging. Lots of reading, cases, all that." Fiddleford scratches his head, glancing sideways at her.

"Reading? I mean, I like reading, but more like scripts and plays, you know? I figured psychology was more about...figuring people out, and maybe some light paperwork." She grins, half-joking, but there’s a flicker of genuine confusion in her eyes.

"Uh, not exactly. It’s mostly books and lectures on the different perspectives." Fiddleford laughs awkwardly.

"Oh. That sounds... fun,” She hesitates. "Well, I’ve always been more of a…let’s say, performer. But psych is a safer bet, so… here I am. Hey, has a boy named Simon Wellerstein checked in yet?”

“No, I don’t think so.” He shakes his head.

As they walk, Fiddleford talks her ear off about classes, campus life, and the strange architecture of the buildings. Ellie barely listens. She’s already scanning the faces in the crowd, wondering if she’ll spot Simon.

First, she has a philosophy class. Fiddleford shows her the way and she realizes even more that she has no idea what she’s doing. She’s not too far from home but she’s in an apartment that’s so empty she’s gonna scream, with no friends.

She’s not helpless but she’s starting to feel like it. You can tell immediately who’s out of state and who’s lived here as you walk around. It’s weird. When she steps into her first class, there are two seats left. One, next to a girl who’s very obviously on drugs and shaking and the other, next to a man in a little sweater with these thick glasses.

Ellie hesitates for a moment, glancing between the trembling girl and the man in the sweater. Despite everything, she wants to make a good impression, so she straightens her posture, smooths out her white sweater, and takes the seat next to the guy in the glasses.

“Hi,” She says, offering a small smile as she sets down her bag.

The man glances up from his notes, blinking a few times before offering a nod. His dark hair is neatly combed, and those thick glasses make his eyes appear slightly larger than they actually are. He’s scribbling something down—formulas, maybe?—in a notebook that looks like it’s been through a few years of hard use.

“Stanford Pines,” He says, almost absentmindedly, as if introducing himself was more of a formality than something he was interested in.

“I’m Ellie,” She takes a seat beside him and immediately leans forward and rests her chin on her hand, her elbow up on the table. “I like your outfit, it’s so fatigue-chic.”

He looks up at her as if she had three heads. Stanford adjusts his glasses, clearly puzzled by her comment. He glances down at his sweater, a plain, worn-out piece he’s had for years, and then back at Ellie, brow furrowed.

"Fatigue-chic?" He echoes, unsure if she's teasing him.

"Yeah, like...you look like you're ready for a study marathon but still stylish in that intellectual, vintage way." Ellie flashes a bright smile, clearly unbothered by his confusion.

"I, uh, wasn't exactly going for a look. This weather here is confusing." Stanford clears his throat, clearly unused to this type of conversation.

“Oh, you’re not from here!” She smacks a hand on the table and he nearly jumps. “I’ve lived here my whole life, well, not here. But around here. Where are you from?”

“New Jersey. Glass Shard Beach.”

“Wow, that is so cool. I’ve always wanted to go live out east but I’m too chicken.” She tells him.

“So, did you do the reading?”

“What reading?”

“The…one for this class.”

“Who assigns a reading for the first day of class?” She giggles before realizing he’s not laughing.

“El?” A voice says behind her and she whips her head to see Simon.

“Simon! Hi.” Her voice immediately shifts.

"You're here?" Simon's tone is full of disbelief, his eyes scanning the room as if he can't quite grasp what he's seeing. "At Backupsmore?"

"Yeah, surprise!" Ellie forces a light-hearted laugh. "I decided to apply last minute. I thought... well, why not? Fresh start, new experiences." Her voice cracks a little as she tries to keep her composure.

"I didn’t know you were interested in Backupsmore or...being smart." Simon frowns, clearly not buying the casual explanation.

Ellie swallows hard, feeling Stanford’s silent gaze beside her and the weight of Simon's judgment.

"Yeah, well, I thought I'd try something new." She shrugs.

“Oh. Okay. Well, wanna talk after class?” He asks.

“Yeah, okay.” She smiles so widely.

The door shuts as Simon sits next to the tweaker and in walks the professor. He’s a man in his early sixties with an obvious complex. The professor steps up to the podium, adjusting his glasses and scanning the room with an air of authority. His graying hair and furrowed brow make it clear that he's been doing this for decades and takes no nonsense from anyone. He clears his throat and begins with a booming voice.

"Good morning, class. I hope you're all prepared because we'll start right away with a question for one of you." His eyes sweep the room, and Ellie, still distracted by Simon's awkward exchange, doesn’t notice when his gaze lands on her.

"You there," The professor points directly at Ellie, "Miss…"

“Clemente,” She says, sitting up straighter, trying to appear as if she’s been paying attention. “Ellie Clemente.”

“Right, Miss Clemente. Can you tell us what Socrates said about the unexamined life?” His eyes gleam with the expectation of catching someone off guard.

She doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. Before she can open her mouth to blurt out something, she hears a low whisper from beside her.

“The unexamined life is not worth living.” He whispers.

She glances at Stanford, who’s leaning slightly toward her, his face still buried in his notebook. He doesn’t look up but repeats the phrase, just loud enough for her to catch.

“The…unexamined life is not worth living,” Ellie says quickly, almost stumbling over the words.

“Correct.” The professor nods, unimpressed but satisfied. He turns to the board and starts writing, moving on as if nothing happened.

Ellie lets out a quiet breath of relief, her heart still racing. She leans toward Stanford, whispering a quick thanks. He barely glances up, offering a quick nod in return before returning to his notes.

“Now, let’s go back to the kiddy stuff for a moment. I don’t do icebreakers unless they relate. So, discuss the trolley problem with your neighbor and swap answers.” The professor says as he writes something on the board.

“The trolley problem is-“ Stanford starts.

“Wait, I know what this is!” She says quietly but excitedly.

Stanford pauses, caught off guard by Ellie’s sudden burst of excitement. She’s leaning in, her face lighting up in a way that’s both endearing and unexpected.

“Oh, you do?” He asks, honestly having no idea of another way to respond.

“Yeah! It's the one where you have to decide if you’d let a train hit four people or pull a lever and make it hit one person instead, right?” She says, clearly proud of herself.

“Exactly. So, what would you do?” Stanford nods, a bit more interested now.

Ellie leans back in her chair, tilting her head to the side as she considers it. Then, with a playful smile, she turns back to Stanford.

“I’d let it hit the four people.”

“You’d…what?” Stanford’s eyes widen. He’s clearly horrified, expecting a typical answer.

“Yeah, I mean, why not? Everyone’s going to choose to save more people. I don’t want to have the same answer as everyone else,” She explains nonchalantly as if it’s the most obvious reasoning in the world. “That’s how you get people to notice you.”

Stanford stares at her, completely baffled. It’s not just the answer—it’s the casual way she says it, like she’s already moved on to the next thought. Yet, something about her unpredictability intrigues him. It’s not that she doesn’t understand the problem; she’s just chosen to answer it in the most unconventional way possible.

“That’s…certainly one way to look at it,” He mutters, still processing.

He’s immediately a little lost. She doesn’t seem completely clueless, maybe just a little odd. Her interactions with that other man and the way she seems like she’s just floating through this class is almost appalling.

Stanford shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his pencil hovering over the notebook as he glances back at her. Ellie, on the other hand, seems perfectly at ease, leaning back in her chair with that same bright smile. She’s already moved on, her gaze wandering around the room as if the whole conversation had been an afterthought.

“I guess you’re not really worried about the moral implications, then?” He clears his throat, unsure of what to say next.

“Nah,” She shakes her head. “I mean, I get the moral thing. But in life, people remember you for standing out. Being different. That’s what matters.” She shrugs like it's the simplest truth in the world.

Stanford’s brain nearly short-circuits at her response. He’s spent his whole life overthinking every possible outcome, every decision, weighing the consequences. And here she is, casually throwing away logic in favor of being noticed?

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your major?” He asks.

“Psychology. Why? Is that bad?” She asks, facing him again and he quickly shakes his head.

“No, no. That was quick though, do you not like it?” He asks.

She doesn’t answer as the professor begins to speak again, her head shifting back to the front. The professor’s voice drones on, filling the room with a lecture on Socratic ethics and moral theory. Ellie remains silent, occasionally glancing at the clock, her attention drifting in and out.

Stanford, on the other hand, is fully engaged, scribbling furiously in his notebook, clearly enthralled by the discussion. Ellie tries to focus, but the material seems to slip right past her, and she occasionally glances over at Stanford, watching him work with an intensity she can’t quite relate to.

Every now and then, the professor calls on students to answer questions about the reading. Ellie holds her breath, relieved when she’s not picked again. As the minutes drag on, she finds herself tapping her fingers on the desk, eager for the class to end. Stanford barely notices; he’s too absorbed in the lecture, nodding along to each point as though the professor were speaking directly to him.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the professor dismisses the class. Ellie is on her feet almost immediately, gathering her things as quickly as possible. She’s halfway to the door before she pauses, glancing back at Stanford, who’s still packing up his notes with meticulous care.

"Hey, uh, thanks for earlier," She says, her voice softer and more sincere than before. “Seriously, Stanford, I appreciate it a lot.”

Stanford looks up, momentarily caught off guard.

“Oh, no problem,” He replies, a little stiffly. “Also, you can just call me Ford.”

She flashes him a brief smile, one that feels more genuine than her earlier, breezy attitude.

“Okay, Ford,” She smiles sweetly. “I owe you one.”

Before he can respond, she’s already turning toward the door, her focus shifting as she spots Simon waiting just outside.

Stepping into the hallway, she approaches Simon, who’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed and looking a little distracted. Ellie jogs up to him, her mind already moving past the classroom and onto whatever comes next.

“That class was incredible, right? Just so interesting.” She smiles as she stands in front of him.

“Yeah, very interesting.” He nods absentmindedly.

As Ellie stands in front of Simon, eagerly waiting for him to engage, he seems distracted, his eyes darting toward something—or rather, someone—further down the hall. Ellie follows his gaze and feels her heart drop for a split second when she sees her.

A girl, probably around their age, with long, wavy blonde hair and an outfit that looks like it was picked out straight from Jackie Kennedy’s closet, is making her way toward them. El’s stomach tightens as she watches the train crash into her and not them.

“Hey, babe,” The girl says brightly as she reaches Simon, placing a hand casually on his arm before turning to El. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, um, this is El, this is Natalie,” Simon says, his voice awkward as he gestures between the two girls. “Natalie, this is Ellie. We, uh, used to—” He stops, clearly unsure of how to finish that sentence.

Ellie feels like she’s been hit in the gut, but she forces a smile, refusing to let her discomfort show.

“Well, we should get going,” Simon adds quickly, already inching away. “We’ve got plans.”

“Yeah,” Natalie chimes in, smiling up at him as she loops her arm through his.

Ellie can only nod, her throat tightening as they walk away together, leaving her standing in the hallway alone.

Chapter Text

“What the hell are we gonna do then?” Ford asks.

“I don’t know, we’ve gotta find a place soon though.” Fiddleford sighs before the clicking of shoes and sniffling comes from behind their table. They turn around to see Ellie, walking almost angrily down the hallway.

“Hey, that’s the girl I was telling you about. Absolutely clueless.” Ford lowers his voice.

“Her? I met her this morning.” Fiddleford adds before turning to her. “Hey, Ellie!”

He waves and watches her face change as she sees both of them at the table. She forces a smile, wiping a tear and walking up to their table.

“Hey, guys.” She sniffles, clearly trying to look happy.

“Are you okay?” Fiddleford asks. “You should sit with us for a minute.”

“I hate it here.” She drops her bag and immediately takes the third seat at the table.

“It’s your first day.” Ford laughs.

“And I hate it. I have my first actual psych class in like…thirty minutes and I have no idea what I’m doing. I came here for- for my ex and-“ She starts before Ford interrupts her.

“You applied to college and signed up for a psychology major…for a man?” He asks.

“Shut up, that doesn’t matter,” She shakes her head. “I thought everything would be fixed if I came here and he thought I was smart and put together but you know what he said? He basically said I wasn’t smart. Maybe I’m not smart but I’m not like…ugly or anything. Am I?”

Both men make eye contact for a moment, unsure of how to answer. Of course, she’s beautiful, but how do they say that?

“Uh, no, you’re definitely not ugly. You’re, um, very pretty, actually.” Fiddleford stammers.

“Yeah, you’re beautiful. I mean, it’s not like you’re—uh, not beautiful.” Ford agrees.

“He has a new girlfriend already and she’s blonde. I’m gonna kill myself, do I need to go blonde or something to fix this?” She slams her hands on the table. “Maybe I’ll go to the salon later. Anyways, what’s up with you guys?”

“Actually, we’re in a bit of a situation ourselves. We were just talking about how we need to find a place to live.” Ford tells her.

“Yeah,” Fiddleford chimes in. “We’ve been staying in Ford’s car for a couple of days now. It’s not exactly the best living arrangement.”

“You’re living in a car?” Ellie asks, eyes wide.

“It’s not so bad,” Ford says, trying to play it off. “Turns out, California is expensive but parking lots are free.”

“You two are unbelievable.”

“Well, the landlord at our last place wasn't cooperative, and the rent was ridiculous,” Fiddleford explains, still looking embarrassed.

“You know, I actually have a three-bedroom apartment. My dad’s been on my case about finding roommates to help with the rent, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.” She tells them.

“It’s still probably out of our price range,” Ford sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“Well, my dad covers my rent, and I model part-time, so I was planning on splitting it four ways. My dad covers two of the shares—his and mine—and my roommates just cover the other two. I figured since my dad’s an asshole, it’s the least I can do to make him pay more.” She shrugs as if this is the most logical arrangement in the world.

“It sounds like a good deal but…you’re a girl. Is that even legal?” Fiddleford asks.

“Is what legal? Living with me? What, are you scared? It’s not like I’m gonna walk around in my underwear—unless you guys do the dishes, then maybe I’ll consider it.” Ellie raises an eyebrow, amused. Ford’s face goes bright red, and Fiddleford just about chokes on his own breath.

“Uh, no, it’s not that, I just—” Fiddleford fumbles for words, while Ford shakes his head, clearly flustered.

“You two are hilarious.” Ellie grins. “But seriously, it’ll be fine. It’s the '70s, not the Stone Age. If you guys don’t mind living with a girl, I don’t mind having you as roommates. We’ll all just pretend not to be awkward about it. I have a little brother, I don’t actually walk around naked.”

Ford and Fiddleford exchange a glance, clearly out of their depth but realizing they don’t have many other options.

“Okay,” Ford says slowly, “But if this turns into some kind of weird sitcom situation, we’re blaming you.”

“You both act like this isn’t more dangerous for me. You two could very well murder me among other things.” She tries.

“Then why did you offer?” Ford asks.

“Because at least if you kill me, I won’t have to go to Simon and Natalie’s wedding.” She shrugs.

“Is that who you were talking to earlier?” Ford asks.

“Unfortunately, yes. Simon and his new blonde girlfriend, Natalie,” Ellie says with mock enthusiasm. “I mean, what’s worse, right? A brutal murder or sitting through that? Her hair was flatter than a piece of cardboard.”

“You’re dramatic,” Ford says more as an observation than as an insult.

“Dramatic? Please. If you met Simon and Natalie, you’d understand. That whole relationship is like watching a car crash in slow motion. He wants me so bad.” Ellie raises an eyebrow at Ford’s comment.

“Well, at least you don’t have to see them all the time, right?” Fiddleford, still unsure of how to respond, clears his throat.

“Anyway, enough about them. What’s the deal with you two? How did you end up at this school?” She asks, not answering the previous question for fear of jinxing herself.

“Scholarship for physics. Fiddleford here’s doing engineering.” Ford shrugs.

“Two nerds, huh?” Ellie smirks. “No wonder you two seem so...well-adjusted.”

“And you’re doing psychology for your ex. So, who’s really winning here?” Ford rolls his eyes.

“Not him, that’s for sure,” She concedes with a smile. “Alright, I’ve got to head to my class now before I fail out on my first day. But meet me for dinner, okay? My treat—well, technically my dad’s treat.”

“Where?” Fiddleford asks, glancing nervously at Ford.

“That little diner just off campus,” She says, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you two at 7.”

“Will that diner be good enough for the princess?” Ford asks, slightly teasing, half serious.

“It’s no Malibu but it shall suffice.” She nods with a smile before turning to walk away.

Ford watches her walk away, still a little bewildered. She’s really a tough shell to crack. And she’s odd. More odd than anything he’s ever encountered. Did she even notice his fingers? He wouldn’t be surprised either way, she’s clearly the type of girl just floating through life and not taking shit from anyone.

“Did that just happen?” Ford asks.

“Guess we’ve got a dinner date.” Fiddleford shrugs.

She walks down to her next class immediately rolling her eyes when she sees Natalie and her friends standing outside the door. She looks around for a moment, trying to plan her path before she hears her name.

“She’s a total air-head. I don’t even know what she’s doing here.” She laughs.

Ellie clenches her jaw as she overhears Natalie and her friends. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself before walking straight past them, head held high.

“Hey, El, ready for your second big girl class? I’m sure you’ll like…totally ace it.” She says, more fake than ever.

“Girl.” She says, her voice full of ‘get real’-ness before she turns back to the door as it opens. Natalie’s face falters for a moment before she turns back around as Ellie walks into the room.

She didn’t think Natalie had it out for her, she thought it was one-sided. Clearly, it’s not. She finds a spot in the back, far from Natalie and her bitchy friends. She takes out a notebook and sighs as she pulls out a pink sparkly pen. Another girl, looking as nervous as ever, comes and sits beside her.

“Hi,” El says quietly as she turns to the girl. Another blonde but she seems nicer. She notices her shoes that are the same but in a maroon color which makes her smile. “I’m Ellie and um, I love your shoes. We kinda match.”

“Oh, wow! I guess we do. I’m Lila.” The girl looks down at their feet, and a smile breaks across her face.

Ellie feels a small sense of relief. For the first time today, she’s not surrounded by judgment or fake smiles. Maybe undergrad won’t be so bad after all—at least now she’s found someone who seems genuine.

“You know, I’m not even supposed to be in here,” Lila admits. “I don’t know how or why I got put into this class. I’m a musical theatre major.”

“Really?” Ellie sits up a little more with a smile. “I…I love theatre.”

“What’s your major?”

“It’s…psychology,” She says almost sadly. “But I guess I can kind of perform with it, not like theatre but close enough.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I miss my musical theatre class in high school a lot.” She admits.

“Oh, trust me, I get that. I can’t imagine being stuck in a class like this if I wanted to be performing,” She glances at Ellie with a sympathetic smile. “Psychology sounds…interesting. Why’d you choose it?”

“It’s...complicated,” She says, fidgeting with her sparkly pen. “I came here for other reasons. Musical theatre was my thing in high school, too. But I guess life doesn’t always go the way you plan.”

“I hear you. It’s tough when you feel like you’re not where you belong.” Lila nods, leaning in a bit. “And you know, the theatre department’s always open for volunteers. Even if you’re psych, they won’t mind if you help out with sets or something.”

“Really? That sounds amazing. I’d love to get involved somehow. Anything to escape from all this.” Ellie brightens at that.

“Definitely,” Lila grins. “We’ll figure something out. Just because we’re in different majors doesn’t mean we can’t keep doing what we love.”

“Yeah,” El smiles at her again. “I’m really glad I met you, Lila.”

“Aww stop, I’m glad I met you too.” She smiles back.

She has one more class before she’s done. The last class wasn’t so bad but she’s losing hope. It’s only the first day but this sucks. But she got Lila’s phone number and things are slightly looking up.

It’s only the first day but that class wasn’t too hard to understand. It was kind of like some of the stuff in crime shows her dad watches. The perspectives were nothing too crazy but they’re getting into the history next time which is discouraging.

The next class goes by quickly because she’s in her head the whole time. It’s statistics which barely makes sense, even when she tries to pay attention. It probably isn’t hard, she just doesn’t want to apply herself. Simon wants to be a lawyer and he’s going through the same path to give him a leg up on other people when it comes to why people do what they do. It’s a smart choice, she should want to do the smart thing.

As Ellie sits through her statistics class, she taps her pink sparkly pen absentmindedly against her notebook. The professor drones on about probabilities and standard deviations, but it’s all just white noise to her.

She can’t focus. Her thoughts keep drifting back to Simon, to his perfectly laid-out plan, to how he’s probably excelling in his own classes, and to Natalie, with her perfectly blonde hair.
Why don’t I want to be smart?She thinks. Why don’t I want to try harder?

It’s not like she can’t understand the material—she knows she could if she put in the effort. But every time she opens her book or starts a new assignment, a voice in the back of her head whispers, What’s the point? She’s only here because of Simon, following a path she never wanted for herself. But now that she’s started, backing out feels impossible.

She misses him. She misses her best friend. When she’s having fun or having these new experiences, she just wants to talk to him. She has to get him back. She knows she has to. Because if not, how is she gonna find someone else who’ll love her like that? He was everything to her.

The class ends, and Ellie snaps out of her thoughts as the other students begin packing up. She quickly shoves her notebook into her bag, frustrated at herself for zoning out again.

She takes the walk to the diner instead of driving. She walks slowly to waste time, having an hour until the dinner. Observing the people on campus makes her feel out of place. People are already studying and looking smart and she feels like an idiot in her white sweater, little skirt, a ribbon in her hair, and chunky Mary Jane’s with only pink notebooks and pens.

“Hey, you! Cute shoes!” A girl yells from a table and Ellie turns to see a table of girls.

Ellie turns toward the table, blinking in surprise as she takes in the group of girls lounging under the shade of a campus tree. They’re all smiling, looking effortlessly chic in their own casual way. One of them waves her over, her oversized sunglasses perched on top of her head.

“Come sit with us for a sec.” She waves.

Ellie hesitates for a moment, glancing around as if the invitation could be for someone else, but it’s clear the group is talking to her. With a small smile, she makes her way over to them, feeling both nervous and curious.

“Thanks,” Ellie says, looking down at her Mary Janes. “They’re new.”

“They’re adorable!” The girl exclaims, patting the seat next to her. “I’m Harper, by the way. We’re with Delta Chi Gamma.”

Ellie sits down, still a little unsure, but Harper’s warmth eases the tension. The rest of the girls introduce themselves, all equally friendly and chatty.

“We’ve been keeping an eye out for girls who really stand out,” Harper continues. “And you definitely caught our eye. We love your vibe.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Another girl chimes in. “The whole classic but cute look? It’s everything.”

“Oh, uh, thanks. I didn’t even know people still did sororities like this.” She laughs softly.

“Oh, honey, we’re not your typical sorority,” Harper says with a playful smile. “We’re all about empowering women, having fun, and making lifelong friends. No stuffy rules or any of that nonsense. We’re planning to rush this semester and we think you’d fit right in.”

The idea of joining a sorority wasn’t something Ellie had ever considered before. It seems a little overwhelming—like she’d be stepping into a world she knows nothing about. But at the same time, the girls seem genuine, and the thought of having a group to belong to, especially after how out of place she’s been feeling, sounds appealing.

“Maybe…” Ellie trails off, unsure.

“No pressure,” Harper says, noticing her hesitation. “We’re having a little meet-and-greet this weekend. You should come, hang out, and see if you like the vibe. No commitments.”

“Do you guys like…all live together?”

“We have a house but a lot of people have their own places too.” She shrugs.

“Cool,” Ellie says, her smile widening. “I think I’ll come.”

“Great! See you there.” She smiles.

Ellie walks away with a small grin that’s growing. She suddenly gets the feeling that everything is moving too fast but she doesn’t want to slow down. Stopping this train is the last thing on her list.

When she finally makes it to the diner, Ford and Fiddleford step out of a slightly janky brown car.

“Hi,” She waves, slightly running to reach their car. “You guys, things are looking up.”

“That’s good to hear,” Fiddleford smiles. “What changed?”

“Okay, I made a friend. Her name is Lila and she does musical theatre just like I used to in High School. And then I got asked to join a sorority.” She says as they begin to walk towards the door.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually gonna join a sorority.” Ford raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, don’t you think I’m someone in desperate need of sisters?” She asks and he nods.

“Actually, yeah, you do.” He chuckles.

“Table for three?” The hostess asks.

“Yes, ma’am.” Fiddleford nods, his hands behind his back.

“So polite, Fidds. Can I call you that?” She loops an arm through his.

“Can I call you El?” He asks with a wide grin.

“Sure.” She smiles up at him and Ford’s chest tightens for no reason.

Ford shifts uncomfortably, trying to shake off the strange feeling creeping into his chest. It doesn’t make sense—why should it bother him that Fiddleford and Ellie are getting along? He barely knows her. Still, the easy connection between them feels... off.

Ellie doesn’t notice, still smiling up at Fiddleford as they sit down. Ford takes a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on the menu, but the tightening in his chest lingers.

“So, you said you have a brother?” Ford clears his throat.

“Yeah, technically half-brother. His name’s Brighton and he’s a little shithead but I love him.” She sighs with a smile.

“Hey, Ford’s got a twin.” Fiddleford gestures to Ford.

“Aww, you’re a twin? I was a twin but then I ate her.” She leans forward to talk to Ford.

“You…ate her?” Ford says, perplexed that she even just said that.

“Yeah, you know, absorbed her in the womb or something. My mom loved to tell the story at parties. It was a real crowd-pleaser.” Ellie shrugs, her grin wide and unbothered.

They both notice the past tense when talking about her mom but they don’t ask about it. She looks through the menu, her fingers tapping on the table.

“What’s your twin’s name?” She asks as she still looks at the menu.

“Stanley.”

“Dude…Stanford and Stanley? No wonder you go by Ford.” She smiles.

“Yeah…our parents are weird.”

"I can imagine. Ford definitely suits you better anyway." Ellie grins, her eyes still on the menu.

As the conversation lulls, the tapping of her fingers on the table grows more noticeable. She seems restless, but not in an uncomfortable way—more like she's always moving, always thinking about something. Ford glances at Fiddleford before their waiter comes to the table to get their drink orders.

“In France, if you ask for a coke, they’ll give you drugs.” She says out of no where.

Ford and Fiddleford both look at Ellie, momentarily stunned by the unexpected comment. Ford blinks, trying to process what she just said, while Fiddleford lets out a snort of laughter.

"Is that so?" Ford says, raising an eyebrow, half-amused, half-baffled.

“Yeah. Happened to me once,” She says before gasping. “Fidds, do you see that girl over there?”

“Um…yes?” He nods.

“Ford, move over.”

Within an instant, she’s under the table. She comes back up on Ford’s side, taking a seat beside him and straightening herself out.

“She keeps looking at you. You should ask her out, she has a Backupsmore sweater on.” She raises her eyebrows with a smile.

“I- I don’t know, I don’t usually do things like that.” He clears his throat.

“But she’s so cute! Look, she curled her hair in that ponytail,” She laughs, turning to Ford. “Come on, tell him. What’s the harm in saying hi, Fidds? It’s just a casual chat. Worst case scenario, you get to be friendly.”

“What if she tosses her drink in my face or something?” He lowers his voice.

“Worse has happened to me.” Ford shrugs.

“Why do you think I moved over here? She was checking us out to see if I was dating you. She wants you! I swear.” She places a hand on her heart.

“Okay, okay, I trust you,” He sighs, going to stand up. “But if this goes bad, I’m ordering a whole pie for dessert.”

“Good luck!” She crosses her fingers as he heads over there before she turns to Ford. “Don’t worry, we can find you someone too.”

“No one’s gonna want me and besides, I’m too busy.” Ford shakes his head.

“Why wouldn’t anyone want you? Everyone has someone out there who’ll want them,” She says even though she doesn’t believe that for herself. “What’s so wrong with you that you think no one will want you?”

“I have six fingers, for god’s sake.” He puts his hands on the table and she notices for the first time.

“I seriously didn’t even notice. People don’t spend time observing the fingers of- well, sometimes I do but that’s not the point.” She tells him.

“You didn’t even notice?” He asks.

“Nope,” She shakes her head. “And even if I had, it wouldn’t have changed anything. People have quirks and differences, it’s what makes us interesting. Besides, who cares if you have six fingers? It’s not like it defines who you are. You’re probably absolutely fucking killer on guitar, man.”

He breathes out, turning to see how Fiddleford is doing to stop whatever he’s feeling. Ford takes a deep breath, trying to focus on Fiddleford’s interaction with the girl, but his thoughts keep drifting back to Ellie. He glances at her, the way she talks with such confidence, and he can’t help but feel a pull towards her.

This attraction is probably just a primal urge. Ford tells himself. An evolutionary response to someone who’s kind and open. It’s a basic human instinct, driven by a desire for connection and acceptance. It’s not that she’s necessarily anything extraordinary—she’s just a pretty girl who’s been unexpectedly kind.

He watches Fiddleford, trying to distract himself from the twinge of attraction he feels. The way Ellie talks, her openness, and her quirky humor all combine into something that feels oddly compelling. Ford knows it’s likely nothing more than a fleeting reaction, a product of a few moments of positive interaction.

This isn’t something substantial. It’s just the result of being around someone nice and engaging. It doesn’t mean anything beyond that. It’s just a normal, physical reaction. Men from the beginning of time have searched for women to carry their babies, maybe that’s what the back of his mind is doing. She’s beautiful so his mind is trying to make his body want her but it’s not gonna work.

As he observes Fiddleford and the girl, he tries to redirect his thoughts, reminding himself that this attraction is likely just a minor, superficial response. He refocuses on the present moment, acknowledging the brief, intense feeling as nothing more than a natural reaction rather than something he needs to dwell on.

“So, what class did you have last?” He asks, turning back to her and trying to take his mind off of his internal battle.

“Statistics. I’m so not a math person.” She tells him.

“Yeah, it’s not for everyone,” He replies, trying to keep his tone light. “But it’s a useful skill if you’re diving into research. Helps you make sense of the data.”

“I hate that stupid bitch, Natalie,” She huffs out of no where and his attention is piqued again. “She had the nerve to say I’m stupid. I didn’t even say anything bad about her. Other than the fact that I hate her but I didn’t say that to her face, you know? That girl has got like zero self-respect.”

“I don’t know how to respond to you right now,” Ford tells her.

“When did we stop supporting other women, right? Yes, I’m after her boyfriend but he was mine first. I had nothing against her personally.” She defends.

“I don’t understand you.” He tells her.

“What’s not to understand?” She asks.

“Are you bipolar or something? You were just so happy setting up Fiddleford and now you’re pissed.” He gestures to her crossed arms and the fact that she’s leaning over in the booth.

“No, I just have a lot of feelings. Not everyone has one default setting like you. You’re the one that’s hard to understand.” She tells him.

“Me?”

"Yeah, you," Ellie leans in, her expression challenging. "This whole time you’ve been so calm, so controlled, like nothing ever gets under your skin. What makes you tick, Ford?”

“We just met today, I’m sorry I’m not going between fits of rage and big bubbles of happiness.” He tells her.

“The only things I know about you is what I’ve forced out. Like…what’s your favorite color even?” She asks.

“I don’t even know, I haven’t thought about my favorite color since elementary school.” Ford scoffs.

“What planet are you from? Everyone has a favorite color. Don’t try to pick which one is scientifically the best, which one do you like the most?” She asks.

“I guess…red.” He sighs.

“That’s a good one,” She nods as if there aren’t only a few options to choose from. “Mine is pink or green. Like tulips.”

"Pink or green? You can’t pick just one?" He chuckles.

"Why limit myself?" Ellie shrugs, a playful grin spreading across her face. "Depends on the day, the mood."

"Yeah, I guess that tracks. You like picking your moods the same way.” He hums.

"You’re always thinking so hard. It must be exhausting." She tilts her head at him, her eyes searching his face.

"You’re not wrong." He chuckles and leans back in the booth, letting himself relax, if only for a moment.

Chapter Text

“Isn’t this so cute? We have a class together and everything.” Ellie loops her arm through Ford’s as they walk into the room.

“Is this not supposed to be your grind time for…you know what?” He asks, gesturing to Simon who’s already sitting down.

“You’re right, should I go ask him for a pencil or something?” She asks.

“I promise I’m the last person you should be asking for advice. But no, you’ll look unprepared.” He tells her as they finally get to their seats. She drops her bag on the floor and gives Ford a look that says ‘I’m going over there’ and Ford starts preparing for whatever he’s gonna have to deal with after this goes bad.

“Okay, no pencil.” She nods before turning and beginning to head over.

Ford leans back and watches, forgetting that his class is about to take place. It feels like watching a train wreck except it makes no sense. Why would that idiot not want her? If someone who looked like her wanted Ford like that, there’d be no question. Well, maybe there would be because he’s not interested in dating anytime. But the point is, she’s pretty and she’s too nice for her own good sometimes.

He watches her walk over in the outfit she picked in an ungodly amount of time. She watches her in the denim skirt she said was her favorite and this pink shirt she said was lucky. She has these chunky socks and shoes that make her look like some kind of doll which confuses him about the situation even more because he thought men would want a girl that looked like a doll.

She’s not nervous as she walks up which might be a mistake. She probably should be nervous. She places a hand on the back of his chair as she moves around to stand and lean beside him.

“Hey, Simon.” She smiles.

“Oh, hey, El. I was just, um, talking to my friend.” He gestures to the guy in front of him who’s stifling a laugh.

“Oh, cool! I made a friend too, kind of, he’s my roommate. He’s back there.” She gestures with her head but neither of them looks.

“Cool.” Simon nods, immediately making it awkward.

“So…are you like, loving this class?” She asks.

“Yeah, it’s pretty interesting. But you don’t…you don’t seriously think you belong in a class that I do right? I mean, I’m gonna go into law one day and who knows where I’m gonna go from there. And you…” He starts.

“I what?” She asks.

“You just seen more like the stay-at-home type, that’s all. No offense, but you’re more of a...social type. This is going to be tough for you.” He says as if he’s being nice for telling her this.

“I mean, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Your dad probably paid your way in though, right?” He asks.

“What? No, I had a good GPA in high school, I was in advanced classes. Being a happy person doesn’t make me an idiot.” She tells him and he throws his hands up in defeat.

“Alright then. You’re smart.” He sounds like he doesn’t believe it.

She crosses her arms, turning around and walking back to her seat. She sits with a huff and Ford immediately rubs a hand over his face.

“What happened?”

“Do people seriously think I’m a complete idiot just because I value my personality rather than saying smart people things?” She asks him.

“He said you were an idiot?” He sits up, raising an eyebrow.

“Not technically, no, but that’s what he was thinking. I mean, seriously, I’m sorry I don’t want to spend all day talking about science and shit and doing things if they don’t make me happy. Is that a crime?” She tries to keep her voice lowered.

“If someone can’t see that being smart and being happy aren’t mutually exclusive, then that’s their problem, not yours.” He covers his face again, slightly tired from her issues.

“He thinks I’m not serious, I need your help, Ford.” She holds onto his arm as she turns to face him completely.

“Me? Why me?” He asks but before she can answer, the professor walks in.

She groans and falls back into her seat to sit normally. Ford scrambles to grab his stuff for class as it starts and realizes that he’s already mentally elsewhere. The professor begins writing on the board without saying a word. Ellie slumps in her seat, glancing toward Simon, but he doesn’t look her way.

She then looks back at Ford while he pulls out his notebook and pen, trying to focus on the lecture. All she can think about is the fact that everyone seems more into this than she is. She turns to the front and decides to try and pay attention.

The lecture drones on—something about ethical frameworks and social dynamics. Ford’s attention starts to slip away from him and he starts to barely register the information. And it’s no one’s fault but his own. Instead, he’s thinking about how to help Ellie, about how ridiculous it is that someone like Simon can’t see what’s right in front of him. The whole time, Ellie taps her foot impatiently, occasionally glancing at Ford and scribbling aimlessly in her notebook.

He sees Simon’s name with hearts doodled around it and wants to roll his eyes. All that energy to someone who doesn’t want her. He leans back in his chair, glancing at Ellie again as she absentmindedly twirls her pen. Something is calming about her constant fidgeting, though.

Normally, stuff like that would drive him insane, but with Ellie, it’s different. It’s like she’s always a little detached from reality, and somehow, it puts him at ease. Maybe because she’s not trying to impress anyone but that idiot a few rows ahead but he can’t see her right now. She’s just...existing

Simon’s name surrounded by hearts feels like an insult, though. Ford watches the little doodles multiply, fighting the urge to reach over and tear the page from her notebook. Ellie deserves better than to waste herself on someone who can’t even meet her halfway.

But then, she doesn’t see it yet. And maybe it’s not his place to make her see it. He exhales, sinking lower in his seat. Why does she distract him so much by doing nothing? She has this contrast of a polished exterior and a messy, complex interior. She's someone who lives by her own rules, carefree yet strategic in her choices.

When the class is over, she packs her stuff up before pacing back and forth like a ghost waiting for Ford. Ford watches as Ellie paces in front of him, her energy restless and unfocused, almost like she’s caught in some invisible tug-of-war.

It’s funny—how she manages to be both polished and completely chaotic at the same time. Her clothes are perfectly curated, her hair styled just so, but beneath it all, there’s this unpredictability to her, like she’s figuring it all out as she goes along.

He takes his time packing up, slinging his bag over his shoulder before finally standing up. Ellie stops mid-pace, her eyes locking onto him, expectant. He doesn’t say anything, just motions for her to lead the way.

She does and he follows behind her and his stupid mind notices her again. He looks at her hair that’s perfectly in place, not a single bit of frizz. After all, she spends hours on it. When they step outside, the sun hits her tan skin just right and he sighs, stepping to walk with her.

“What do you want me to help you with?” He asks.

“I need to prove that I’m serious and I’m not stupid.” She turns to look at him as they walk.

"Serious about what? About him?" He asks.

"About everything!" Ellie’s voice rises in frustration, but she quickly pulls it back down. "About school, about my future. Simon thinks I’m just this airhead who floats around like I don’t have goals or plans or anything. I need to show him I’m more than that."

Ford shoves his hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the path ahead. He wants to tell her she doesn't need to prove anything to Simon, or anyone, but he knows that won’t stop her.

"What are your goals and your plants then?” Ford sighs.

“Get my boyfriend back,” She says like it’s obvious before sighing. "I care about people taking me seriously. About not being seen as just... decorative."

“Then what you need to do is get to work,” He starts. “What are you doing in class? Doodling hearts and kicking your feet? Come on, El, you’re better than this. Look, if you really want Simon or anyone to take you seriously, it starts with you taking yourself seriously. Put the effort into your classes, stop zoning out, stop letting him be the center of your world. Prove to yourself that you’re more than just… a girlfriend, or a pretty face."

“You’re good at this stuff, Ford, you know how to be smart smart. Can you help me be good at it too? When we get home, can you drive me home, by the way? When we get home, I’ll show you my classes and if you can help with any of them I’ll cry in a good way.” She tells him.

"Alright, I’ll help. But you need to actually listen and put in the work, El. I’m not doing it for you." He tells her.

"Deal. I’ll even try not to doodle hearts during our study sessions." She smiles widely at him as they approach her next class and she stops walking.

"That’s a start," He shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. "And yes, I’ll drive you home. But when we get there, I expect you to actually focus. No distractions."

“Yes! Thank you, Ford,” She leans over, placing a quick kiss on his cheek before pulling away with a smile. “And thank you for walking me to class.”

He looks around for a moment before realizing they’re at her class. He didn’t even notice where she was leading him.

"Yeah, sure... no problem," He mutters, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He glances around, making sure no one noticed the little moment, not that he really cared. "Just—focus, okay? I’ll see you later."

"I will. I promise." She waves before heading into the classroom, leaving Ford standing there, feeling oddly warm in the aftermath.

As he watches her disappear into the room, he shakes his head again, exhaling slowly.

"What am I doing?" He mutters to himself, before finally turning to head to his own class.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Lila asks before Ellie can even set her stuff down.

“No, why?” She hums as she puts her back on the floor and takes a seat.

“Natalie’s saying you do. She said she saw you and him right now on the way to this class.” She lowers her voice.

“Oh, that’s my roommate! His name is Ford.” She smiles.

“Is he cute?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s cute. Super smart, too. Like, he’s probably the smartest person I’ve ever met,” Ellie says, shrugging as she pulls out her notebook.

“Why aren’t you dating him then?” Lila asks, her tone teasing.

“Because he’s my roommate,” Ellie replies matter-of-factly, flipping through her notes. “And he’s not into dating right now. Also, you know who I really want.”

“Really, El?” She asks.

“Yes, really. I know things haven’t been great but they were a few months ago. He just needs to see that things can be great again. That I’m serious.” She tells Lila.

“But you’ve got this smart, cute roommate who’s actually nice to you. Why chase after Simon when he treats you like—" Lila starts.

“Like what?” Ellie asks, not wanting her to finish the sentence.

“Like you’re a second choice,” Lila finishes gently. “You have other options, you aren’t a troll. What about your other roommate?”

“What is your obsession with my roommates? Fidds…he’s sweet but he’s not my type.” She sighs.

“And the other one is?” Lila teasingly pokes her.

“Stop it, you’re gonna make things weird for me.” She can’t hold back the laugh.

“Oh, come on, you’re the one with two cute roommates. It’s not weird unless you make it weird.” Lila grins, clearly enjoying the teasing.

“They’re my friends. Ford’s too... intense, anyway. He’s all about science and big ideas. Half of the time he’s in his own world. And Fidds is, well... Fidds. He’s great but I don’t think he even knows I exist half the time.” Ellie sighs, still smiling.

“And Simon? You think he sees you for who you really are?” She asks, not convinced.

“I don’t know. But I’m gonna make him see.” Ellie hesitates, then shrugs.

“And speaking of making people see…” Lila leans in, lowering her voice. “Are you going to that sorority party tonight? The one Delta Phi is throwing?”

“Oh, right! I completely forgot about that. I was so caught up with everything else.”She sighs.

“You forgot? El, this is the party. Your soon-to-be former ex-boyfriend is probably gonna be there.” Lila nudges her.

“I guess I should go, huh?” She asks.

“Definitely. And bring your cute roommate with you. Natalie’s going to be there too, she thinks you’re dating him.” Lila lowers her voice.

“What is bringing another man gonna do to help this?” Ellie asks.

“Make Natalie think she’s safe, make Simon jealous.” She shrugs.

“Trust me, Ford is not the party type. He barely tolerates me as it is.” Ellie says as the professor shuts the door and Lila leans in to whisper one last time.

“Well, maybe it’s time you find out if he can surprise you. Who knows? It might be fun to see him outside of his science world for once.” She shrugs.

She tries to think about her options through the next couple of classes. Ford is notoriously difficult and won’t go through with it unless she’s really nice. By the time her final class ends, Ellie has no plans forming in her mind. The only thing she can think to do is beg.

She walks to the parking lot to see Ford leaning against the car. He twirls the keys around his finger when he sees her and they accidentally go flying. By then, she runs over and bends to pick it up. She stands back up with a small smile as she places them in Ford’s hand. He gives her a slightly embarrassed smile as he walks around to open her door.

She slides into the bench seat, leaning against the window after he shuts the door. She watches him walk around to the driver's side, her mind racing. She still hasn’t figured out the best way to ask him, but waiting until they’re not driving seems like the smarter option.
As they pull out of the lot, the silence stretches between them. Ellie fidgets with her bag, glancing at Ford out of the corner of her eye. She wonders if he’d even consider going to a party, let alone one with Simon and Natalie.

He can see her in the corner of his eye, having already made herself comfortable in his car. Sometimes, he just wants to know what’s happening in her head.

Ford grips the steering wheel a little tighter, glancing at her again. She seems unusually quiet, which isn’t like her. Normally, she’s rambling about something or humming a tune, but now there’s a clear tension in the air.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” He asks, finally breaking the silence.

Ellie bites her lip, trying to figure out how to say it without sounding desperate. Or in a way to make him say no.

“So, there’s this party...” She starts slowly, Ford raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, waiting for her to continue. “And, uh, I was kind of thinking...maybe you’d want to come with me? Just, you know, as a friend. Nothing serious.” She glances at him, hoping for a neutral reaction.

“A party?” Ford asks, disbelief clear in his tone. “El, you know I’m not really into those kinds of things. What happened to me helping you be serious after school?”

“The party doesn’t start until late and I know, but I promise it won’t be awful. It’s that sorority I was telling you about, and...well, Simon will be there,” She adds, her voice trailing off. Ford’s jaw tightens. Of course, it’s about Simon. “But I just thought it’d be nice. I don’t want to go alone and I like talking to you, you humble me.”

“I’m not sure humbling you at a party is what you need right now, El.” He looks at her for a second.

“No, seriously. You make me feel like... I’m more than just someone who’s chasing after a guy. You do that mostly because you don’t care about what I’m doing and I’m barely tolerable but I appreciate it. And that’s kind of what I need. Plus, you’d be doing me a favor by going. You don’t have to do anything but exist, and you’re good at that. It’s just for moral support. And if you want, we can leave early. I won’t even make you talk to anyone.” She gives a small laugh to lighten the mood.

“You really know how to sell it.” Ford shakes his head, but a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“So, you’ll come?” Ellie’s eyes light up, the anticipation clear on her face.

“I’ll think about it,” He tells her, though there’s less resistance in his tone.

He watches her look back out the window with a smile on her face. It makes him smile too, he likes making her smile like that. There’s something about making her smile that feels...rewarding, though he can’t quite put his finger on why.

When they get home, they immediately want to get to work. As soon as they step inside, Ellie leads the way to her room, tossing her bag onto her bed and motioning for Ford to join her at the desk. He settles in beside her, opening her notebook to scan the scribbled notes. Ford knows what’s happening in the classes she’s in so it’s easy to help. He basically reteaches her certain things she learned in class but makes sure she understands him.

She’s not hard to take seriously, she’s not stupid. She’s even maybe a little bit smart. The girl just has the attention span of a toddler. Ford immediately wants to start trying to diagnose her with things but he keeps his mouth shut. And after an hour or two of doing that, she kicks him out to start getting ready.

Ford gets ready in like two seconds and then he’s waiting for Ellie. He lies on the couch and waits for god knows how long. Ford lies back on the couch, staring at the ceiling as he listens to the distant sounds of Ellie moving around in her room. He’s not surprised she’s taking her time. After all, she probably has a whole routine for getting ready.

He’s already dressed—jeans and a simple button-up shirt—and there’s nothing else for him to do but wait.
Time drags on, and he taps his fingers against his chest, trying not to get annoyed. He wonders how long it actually takes for her to pick out an outfit and fix her hair. It's not like they’re going to a formal event. It’s just a party and part of him still isn’t convinced he wants to go.

But then she comes out and she looks beautiful. His attention is briefly caught by her, his movements frozen. And there’s something about the fact that he’s taking this pretty girl to a party that shocks his high school self.

“I’m ready,” She tells him. “I can drive if you w-“

“Definitely not after last time, I’ll drive.” He chuckles as he gets up from the couch.

“It was an accident.” She smiles.

“You forgot to take your car out of reverse and my life flashed before my eyes. Also, stop signs don’t exist to you. I’m driving. No arguments.” He laughs again as he leads the way to the door.

“Okay, whatever.” She still has a small smile as she shrugs.

As they head to the door, Ford finds himself glancing at her again. There’s something about the way she’s carrying herself tonight that’s different, more confident, more at ease. And for a moment, he wonders why she seems to need Simon’s validation when she already seems to shine on her own.

As they step outside and Ford unlocks the car, he walks around to open it for her again before gesturing for her to get in.

“Next time, maybe. Just not in my car.” He teases, but there’s a warmth in his tone before he shuts the door.

She’s still smiling as he walks around to his side. He notices when he steps in that she’s still smiling. She reaches over to turn up the volume on the radio, picking up one leg to rest her head on her knee. And again, she can’t sit still because she then rolls down the window and puts her leg down to lean on it as Ford pulls out of the parking lot.

“You never stay still for more than two seconds, do you?” He asks.

“I get bored easily. Plus, this is way more fun than sitting in class all day. It feels like we’re sneaking out or something.” She tells him happily.

“You’re impossible.” Ford chuckles, shaking his head.

“That’s why you like me.” She laughs, a carefree sound that seems to fill the car.

He doesn’t respond to that, but he feels a small tug in his chest, the familiar warmth settling in. As they drive, the scenery blurs past, but Ford finds himself more focused on the girl beside him, the way her hair dances in the breeze, the way her eyes seem to light up as the radio plays one of her favorite songs. It’s moments like these that make him forget about everything else—the stress of school, the looming pressure of expectations.

“Ugh, I love this song,” She leans back, gesturing to the radio. “I loved the Monkees.”

“Seriously?” He laughs.

"Seriously," She nods, grinning. "Their music just makes me happy. It’s like... carefree, you know? I know it’s stupid but you can’t be mad listening to Daydream Believer.”

“I don’t listen to much music. I don’t have time.” He tells her.

“You really need to loosen up. Can I find you a girlfriend?” She asks, leaning towards him.

"A girlfriend?" Ford glances at her, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t think that’s necessary, El."

"Why not?" She shrugs, still grinning. "You’re smart, decent-looking, and nice enough—when you’re not scolding me about my grades. You just need to live a little. Find someone who’ll drag you out of your books."

"I’m not exactly in the market for distractions right now. Besides, I think you’re already enough of one." Ford chuckles softly, shaking his head.

"Distraction? Me?" She gasps dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. "I’m just trying to improve your quality of life, Ford."

"That’s what you call it?" He gives her a sideways glance, his smirk lingering.

“Yeah,” She nods, turning to him even more. “You seem like you should be someone’s boyfriend.”

“You know…I’ve never had a girlfriend before.” He admits to her for some reason he’ll never understand.

“Never?” She asks and he shakes his head.

"Never really had the time, I guess. Always focused on school, science... other things." Ford shrugs, keeping his eyes on the road.

She’s quiet for a moment, studying him. He notices the way she sits and the way she looks at him. It’s not mean, she’s just observing him.

"Well, you’d make a great boyfriend. I mean, you’re smart, reliable, and... pretty thoughtful. What more could someone want?" She asks.

“Someone cool and funny like Simon.” He tells her and she sighs.

“That’s different.” She tries.

"How’s it different?" He glances over at him.

"Because Simon is...Simon. He’s all charm and surface-level stuff. But you? You’ve got depth. You actually care about things beyond just how you look or what people think. That's what makes you...well, different from him." Ellie fidgets slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Ford doesn’t respond immediately, focusing on the road. Her telling him these things almost makes his face flush and he hopes the moonlight hides it.

"Maybe. But people like Simon because he’s easy to like. I’m not exactly... that." Ford tells her.

"Maybe not easy, but worth it," She says, her voice soft. "That’s something Simon could never be."

“And yet, he’s who you’re chasing after. He’s the one who has two pretty girls-“ He starts before he sees her face. “One pretty girl and one heinous troll chasing after him.”

“Well, maybe I’m stupid then. Maybe I shouldn’t be but I think I can fix him.” She says seriously.

"You can’t fix people, El. They are who they are. Simon... he's not going to change just because you want him to." Ford tries.

“Ugh, I know,” She says quietly. “I just…I miss him, you know? I mean, I guess you don’t know. We dated for three years, that’s a long time for high school. I can’t just quit when I’ve gotten so close.”

“Three years is a long time for anything. I mean, what you want isn’t impossible but if it doesn’t work, if he stays with her, what happens with you?” He asks.

“I don’t know. I can’t go home hat in hand.” She tells him as they finally pull into the parking lot.

"But what if you find something better? Something that actually makes you happy?" Ford glances at her, the lights of the party spilling into the car.

"He did make me happy. When things were good, they were so good. I guess I just don’t want to feel like I wasted all that time." She looks out the window, watching groups of people laughing and chatting.

“You didn’t waste anything if you learned from it. But holding on to something that’s not there could end up wasting even more time.”

"You really think that?" Ellie nods slowly, still processing his words as Ford parks and shuts off the engine.

"I do," He says, his tone earnest. "But right now, let’s just focus on tonight. We’re here, so let’s see what happens. You got me to a party, who knows what else you can do. If you told my brother I was here, he wouldn’t believe it.”

He smiles as he walks around to open her door and lets her out. It’s always a little funny because she always looks like the sad dogs left in hot cars as if he’s not gonna let her out. Truth be told, she isn’t used to it at all. No one, not even her father, has ever opened doors like this. She’s seen it in movies but always thought it was an old money thing or something.

She steps out and he shuts it behind her. She loops her arm through his as they begin to walk into the big house. It’s also weird walking in with someone and not being alone like she has been lately. It’s nice.

The music is loud, as expected, and she’s almost immediately handed a drink by the girl she met a week ago.

“I promise we won’t be here long. Seriously, an hour at most, I get bored after an hour.” She tells Ford and he nods.

He follows her around for a while, her introducing him to people she barely knows. No one he knows is there, obviously. But she looks happy talking to these people. She’s more skilled socially than he could ever be. He admires her as she talks to these people so warmly and so happily.

He doesn’t drink, he usually doesn’t like it anyway but he especially doesn’t because he’s driving Ellie home. She looks happy, it makes him almost glad he came with her. Even though he feels very out of his element and he’s counting down the minutes until he leaves.

Minutes go by fast and everything feels a little strange. She forgets why she even wanted to come here. It’s just fun. It’s fun trying to get Ford out of his shell despite it not working.

Eventually, she excuses herself, saying she’ll be right back. As she heads toward the bathroom, the lively chatter and music fade into the background. The hallway is quieter, and she takes a moment to gather herself before pushing the bathroom door open.
Inside, she splashes some water on her face, trying to shake off the lingering nervousness.

But as she turns to leave, she nearly collides with Simon, who stands in the hallway, a drink in hand.

“El,” He says, his tone a mix of surprise and something unreadable. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, just, um... hanging out,” She replies, attempting to keep her voice steady.

“You look good. Who’d you come with?” Simon’s eyes flicker over her, taking in her outfit and the way she carries herself.

“Ford, the guy I was telling you about.” She says and there’s a look on his face.

“Are you seriously dating him, El?” He leans into her and everything in her brain might as well be shaking.

“Um, I-“

“You can do better than that.” He tells her.

“Can I, though?” She sighs and his face is unreadable. The only thought in her mind now is that he assumes Ford isn’t better. And who is he to say or think that? If she was with Ford, she’d probably consider that doing better. And then she questions why she’s thinking that.

“You’re seriously beautiful. You look like a doll.” She can smell the beer on his breath and it turns her off.

“Thank you.” She looks up at him and before she can say or do anything his hands are on her waist and he just holds onto her. He leans in ever so slightly, her taking a deep breath.

“I bought a ring for Natalie.” He whispers and her eyes flutter open and she gives him a look that could kill.

“Huh?” She mumbles.

“She’s changing her major, she’s gonna be a teacher. She was complaining that almost all of her soon-to-be classmates are engaged. And since I’ve known her for so long-“

“So long? It’s been a few months.”

“El, Natalie is my mom’s best friend’s daughter. I’ve known her for a long time.” He tells her and she pushes his hands off of her.

“How long has this been happening?” She asks.

“El, one last time, let me have it-“

“No, no, no. Seriously?” She asks.

“Don’t you miss what we had?”

She doesn’t answer, she just turns around despite his protests. Her mind and heart race and all she knows is that she has to find Ford. Ford's presence suddenly feels like a lifeline amidst her chaotic emotions. She finds him standing awkwardly against a wall and holds onto his arm as he looks down at her.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He slightly lowers himself to see her better.

“I want to die, can we go home, please?” She asks, her voice breaking.

“Yeah, yes, come on.” He nods, standing up straight again and beginning to lead her out of the house.

He pulls off his jacket and places it over her shoulder as they step outside and walk through the grass. He doesn’t ask any questions, not yet. It’s silent as she looks more defeated than he’s ever seen her. He opens her door and lets her in before he goes on the other side to get in.

The moment the door shuts, she feels the weight of the night pressing down on her. She leans back against the seat, staring out at the darkness, trying to gather her thoughts. Ford turns the key in the ignition, the engine humming to life.

“You okay?” He asks gently, his eyes flicking to her.

She practically bursts open at him asking and she tells him everything down to every detail. He tries to keep his eyes on the road but they keep going to her. All he can think is that he is so unprepared to deal with something like this and that Stan would probably know what to say. He’s overall better with people, girls especially, than Ford.

“He’s an asshole.” Ford looks over before turning back to face forward.

“I know. But is it bad that I still kind of want him?” She asks.

“El!”

“I don’t mean necessarily as a person, I mean I want him like…I want him.” She tells him and Ford wants to bash his head against the wheel.

Ford grips the steering wheel a little tighter, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. He can feel his face flush at her admission, and he’s not sure how to respond without making things even more awkward.

“El... you deserve better,” He says, his voice measured, though it’s clear he’s uncomfortable. “I know it’s not easy to just shut off feelings for someone. But this guy—he’s not worth the energy you’re giving him.”

“Wasted time is like…the most heartbreaking thing, you know? Like I could’ve been doing literally anything else.” She sighs.

Ford glances over at Ellie, seeing the way the weight of her words pulls at her. He wants to ease that sadness, even if he’s not exactly sure how.

“Well,” He starts slowly, “you didn’t waste all your time. You got to know someone...even if that someone turned out to be a jerk.”

“You’re really reaching there.” She gives him a look, somewhere between amused and exhausted.

“Think about it. You could’ve spent all that time with someone way worse. Like, I don’t know...someone obsessed with math and physics. Imagine the horror.” He chuckles.

“That actually sounds like a nightmare. Maybe Simon wasn’t so bad after all.” Ellie laughs despite herself, nudging him lightly.

“See? Silver lining.” He smiles at her.

As they pull into the parking lot of their apartment complex, Ellie feels some of the tension from the night slip away. Ford parks the car, and they sit in a comfortable silence for a moment before he turns to her, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Alright, we spent tonight doing what you wanted. Now, it’s my turn.” He tells her.

“Oh no,” She groans, but there’s a smile creeping onto her face. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll see.”

Ford grins the whole time as they get out of the car and head up the stairs to their apartment Once inside, Ford immediately heads to his room and returns with a board game—Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons. She turns into her room but he follows with a laugh.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Ellie stares at it, wide-eyed.

“Nope,” Ford says, setting the board on the floor with more excitement than she’s ever seen from him. “It’s time for you to experience real fun.”

“Okay, fine. But you have to explain everything because I have no idea what’s going on.” Ellie rolls her eyes but can’t help the small laugh that escapes her.

She sits on the floor with him as he goes to join her. He takes about a bunch of different things that she has no clue how to use. Ellie watches Ford lay out the game pieces, dice, and what looks like several books filled with rules, all with an enthusiasm that almost makes her laugh again.

“Hey, look what I can do!” Ford nudges her, more happy than she’s seen him before.

He places the die between his thumb and index finger as he holds his hand up to show her. She watches and suddenly feels perverted as he effortlessly moves it between all of his fingers. She stares in silence for a moment, trying not to be disgusting. But she can’t ignore the fact that it was pretty cool.

“Wait, I wanna do that!” She smiles as she takes it out of his hand and attempts to do the same.

Ellie tries to mimic Ford's movements, but the die immediately slips from her fingers and rolls across the floor.

“Oh, come on!” She groans, reaching for it as Ford laughs beside her.

“It takes practice,” He says, still grinning. “I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. And I have six fingers.”

“Show off,” She narrows her eyes at him playfully. “I’m gonna spawn an extra finger and absolutely kill this.

He’s surprised once again because of her. No one has ever been so casual and not mean about his fingers. And yet time and time again, she doesn’t see it as a bad thing.

“Hey, you wanted to try it.” He clears his throat with a small smile.

“Yeah, well, it looked easier when you were doing it,” Ellie mutters, her tone teasing.

She takes the die again, concentrating harder this time, though her fingers fumble with it. Ford watches her, his smile softening as she struggles, determined to master the trick.

“You’re getting there,” He says, his voice warmer than before.

“Okay, whatever. Let’s play the game.” She sighs.

He starts to explain and even though she’s still confused, she just goes along with it. As they begin to play, Ford takes on the role of storyteller, guiding her through caves filled with treasure, hidden traps, and mysterious creatures. Ellie fumbles at first, making silly choices that get her into trouble, but Ford laughs with her, encouraging her to keep going.

An hour passes without her realizing, the earlier stress of the night melting away completely. It’s around midnight now and yet neither can really imagine going to sleep yet so they keep playing. Except, Ellie has turned this into seeing how outrageous her choices can get. Almost every single one shocks Ford and they only get more intense.

As Ellie continues making wild, unpredictable choices in the game, Ford finds himself laughing more than he has in a long time. She’s relentless, sending her character into the most ridiculous scenarios—talking to monsters instead of fighting them, taking treasure without checking for traps, and even attempting to befriend a dragon.

“You know, I’ve never seen anyone play like this. It’s reckless, but... kind of brilliant in a weird way.” Ford shakes his head, trying to keep a straight face.

“That’s me, always finding the most chaotic path,” She glances at him, her expression softening. “You’re pretty great, you know that? Like, I know I’ve been a mess lately, but you’ve made things so much easier to deal with. I don’t think I’ve had this much fun in a long time.”

Her words catch Ford off guard, and suddenly everything feels different. The way she’s looking at him, the warmth in her voice—it all hits him at once. He’s been so focused on the game, on helping her forget the night’s drama, that he hadn’t noticed how much he enjoys just being around her.

That soft smile on her face makes his heart flip and for the first time, he recognizes it for what it is. He lives with, who he believes to be, the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. And she’s sweet and funny and she doesn’t judge him. She’s caring and she doesn’t make him feel bad about himself, about his fingers.

As soon as the thought forms, panic sets in. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He’s already terrible with feelings, and the idea of getting too close to Ellie terrifies him. Ford looks away, masking the sudden flood of emotion. What would he even do with something like this? She wants another man—she’s still hung up on Simon.
And Ford? He has too much going on to risk his future for a girl, no matter how perfect she seems.

“Glad you’re having fun,” He says, his tone quieter than before, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Ellie beams, completely oblivious to the internal battle raging inside him. She leans forward, nudging him lightly.

“I really am, Ford. Thanks for...being you, I guess.” She laughs softly, her gaze lingering on him a moment longer.
Ford’s heart clenches. He can’t take it anymore.

He turns back to the game, pretending to be engrossed in the rules, but inside he’s already pulling away. As much as it hurts, he knows he can’t let himself get any closer to her. It’s better this way, even if it means keeping his distance from the one person who’s managed to make him feel something real.

The game continues, but it’s not the same, and Ford knows nothing will be from here on.

Chapter Text

Three days before Thanksgiving

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride to the airport?” Ellie asks as Fiddleford wheels out his suitcase.

“No, it’s okay, you just get ready to go home,” He smiles. “Have a good Thanksgiving, El.”

“You too, cutie! Bye.” She waves with a smile and Ford cringes from the couch. She’s so openly flirty with everyone around her, that’s just how she is. And he was stupid enough to think he was special.

Ellie watches as Fiddleford heads out the door, her smile lingering as she turns back to the living room. Ford is still on the couch, a book in hand, though he hasn’t turned a page in the past few minutes. His jaw tightens slightly as her words hang in the air.

“Cutie? Really?” Ford mutters under his breath, though loud enough for her to hear.

“What? He is cute. Besides, it’s just a funny little nickname. He’s a nice guy.” Ellie raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she walks toward him.

Ford gives a noncommittal shrug, his eyes still on the book, but she can tell he’s not really reading. He’s been like this for weeks now—aloof, distant, even a bit colder than usual.

“Did I do something to you?” She asks and he looks up immediately. “Seriously, did I say something wrong or did I do something to hurt you? I never wanted to do so if I did, but I-“

Ford looks up from his book, startled by the directness in her voice. He wasn’t expecting her to catch on so quickly. Her eyes are filled with genuine concern, and for a moment, he feels a pang of guilt.

“No, no, nothing like that,” He breathes out but his words come out too fast, too defensive.

“Then what? You avoid me, you leave for class like…an hour earlier than usual so I drive myself, and you barely speak to me anymore.” She takes a seat beside him and he tenses up. He thought he’d at least be over this little crush by now, a few months later, but when she looks at him like that and is so nice about everything, he wants to die.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” Ford says, keeping his voice steady, though the knot in his stomach twists tighter. “I just have a lot going on. Projects, research…you know how it is.”

Ford opens his mouth to say more, but the words catch in his throat. He’s not sure how to explain this mess of emotions swirling inside him—how every time he’s around her, he’s reminded that she deserves so much more than what he can offer. And she’s still hung up on Simon, still navigating her feelings about him, while Ford is sinking deeper into feelings he has no right to have.

He hates himself for feeling like this. She doesn’t like him and she never will, he knows that. And he’s not even sure he’d actually want anything with her. All Ford knows is that no one has ever been so lovely to him, especially not someone like her. It almost makes him angry that she’s so perfect. She’s so sweet and beautiful and kindhearted, she can be off in her own world but still be so nice to people who deserve it.

“Come home with me, Ford,” She tells him, placing a gentle hand on his arm that makes his heart skip a beat. “You aren’t going home with your family for Thanksgiving so come with me. It’s not far, you can bring your stuff to work on. I have a vanity you can turn into a desk for the weekend but I can’t be happy if I know you’re here by yourself. I cook Thanksgiving dinner! I know it probably won’t be as good as I’m sure your family’s but…I’m trying!”

“I don’t know, El.” He sighs and her face slightly saddens again.

“I care about you a lot, Ford. Maybe you don’t believe me. Maybe you think I’m just…I don’t know, vapid and aloof like everyone else but you really helped me before. I had like…a lot of fun at that party and then playing that game. You shouldn’t spend Thanksgiving alone,” She tells him. “Bring your dungeons game, teach my brother, I don’t know. That little dipshit needs something better to do with his time than give my father a heart attack.”

Ford feels his resolve waver at her words. Ellie’s sincerity pulls at something deep inside him, something he’s been trying to ignore. Her kindness makes it impossible to dismiss her invitation.

“I appreciate it, really,” He starts, but the weight of his own emotions makes it hard to articulate. “It’s just...I don’t want to intrude on your family time.”

“You wouldn’t be intruding. You’re my friend, and friends don’t let friends spend the holidays alone. Plus, I promise I won’t make you do any of the cooking!” She offers a playful grin, but Ford can see the earnestness behind it.

The thought of spending Thanksgiving alone fills him with a sense of dread. He glances at her, searching her face for any signs of insincerity, but all he finds is warmth and concern. She truly wants him there.

“I just don’t want to mess things up for you,” He finally admits, the words spilling out before he can stop them.

“Trust me, Ford,” She says, squeezing his arm lightly. “You won’t. You make everything more fun. Just think about it, okay?”

He looks away, contemplating the offer. Part of him wants to say yes, to bask in her warmth and the chaos of her family, but another part of him screams to keep his distance. But again, when she looks at him like that, he can’t make any rational decisions.

“I’ll think about it,” He replies finally, though he knows he’s leaning toward a decision he might not be ready for.

“Good! Just…don’t take too long. I’ll be waiting. I’m leaving tomorrow at ten.” With a hopeful smile, she turns to head back to her room, leaving Ford alone with his racing thoughts.

As he sits there, he can’t shake the feeling that saying yes might be the best—or worst—decision he ever makes.

Ellie goes back to being oblivious. She happily goes to finish packing while Ford might as well be rocking back and forth and whispering to himself. Ellie hums softly to herself as she flits around her room, folding clothes and stuffing them into her suitcase without a care in the world. She doesn’t notice the storm brewing in Ford’s mind just a few feet away in the living room. She’s completely unaware of how much her invitation has rattled him.

She knows things aren’t normal with them but she hopes that he’ll say yes and that thing weekend will fix things. But the only issue is, she’s scared for him to meet her family if she does say yes. When you invite someone to Thanksgiving, they usually picture your happy family and love and warmth. She’s not exactly sure that’s fitting.

The only person she really loves, not just out of a feeling of obligation, in that house is Brighton, her brother. Even if he causes issues sometimes. As Ellie zips up her suitcase, her hands momentarily still, the realization of what she’s about to do hits her. She’s inviting Ford into her world, a world that isn’t all sunshine and laughter. Her family isn’t the picturesque holiday setting people expect, and despite her easygoing demeanor, she’s nervous about what Ford will think. What if he hates it? What if he meets them and thinks less of her?

Ellie glances toward the door, biting her lip. She wants Ford to come. She wants things to go back to how they were before he started pulling away. And maybe, just maybe, spending a few days with her family will show him a side of her he hasn’t seen yet—a side that’s more vulnerable, more real.

But inviting Ford means risking everything. If it goes badly, if Brighton acts out or if her parents are their usual distant selves, it might push Ford even further away. She can’t shake the uneasy feeling in her stomach.

Ford lies awake most of the night considering his options. He could stay home, blame it on his work ethic not letting him enjoy simple pleasures like holidays and disappoint her or he could just go. He could make her sad on Thanksgiving or go home with her and see her life outside of school.

But that idea terrifies him almost as much as staying behind does. He imagines seeing her with her family and helping her cook dinner and seeing those smiles of hers every second of every day and it terrifies him.

What if he gets too comfortable, too used to the warmth she radiates, only for her to go back to Simon or some other guy? What if being around her like that makes him fall even deeper?

He decides to suck it up and go, secretly hoping she’ll do something that’ll put him off. That maybe she’s secretly weird and will become weird when she goes back home.

Once it’s a reasonable hour, he comes outside to see her sitting by herself on the counter. Her legs are crisscrossed and she has a mug in one hand and Vogue in the other. He pauses for a moment, taking in the scene, admiring how effortlessly she fits into every moment. His stomach twists. This is exactly what he’s afraid of—her being this easy to be around.

“Good morning.” He says and she quickly looks up.

“Good morning.” She smiles, slightly tilting her head.

“I’ve decided…yes, I’ll go with you.” He tells her and watches her face light up.

“Yay!” She cheers so happily as she puts her stuff down to hop off of the counter. “This is so exciting, Ford! Though, I figured you’d say yes so I already told my parents, my dad’s excited. I can help you pack if you want! I’m really good at making clothes fit in small bags.”

“I think I’m okay packing on my own. I don’t have a lot of things in the first place.” He chuckles.

“Oh! Oh! And we have a pool if you want to swim. I know it’s Thanksgiving but it’s also California. Or we can even head down to the beach.” She says excitedly.

Ford can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. She’s always so full of life like she’s constantly chasing the next big adventure. It’s one of the things he admires most about her, even if it does make him feel a little overwhelmed at times.

“A pool?” He raises an eyebrow. “On Thanksgiving?”

“Well, it’s not exactly Thanksgiving weather here,” She says with a grin. “And who says you can’t take a quick swim before dinner? Or thirty minutes after! You’ve gotta be flexible with holiday traditions, Ford.”

“You really don’t do anything halfway, do you?” He can’t help but smile.

“Why would I? Halfway’s boring!” She declares, her voice full of that unshakable optimism that always makes Ford’s chest tighten. “Besides, I’m not letting you work yourself to death around the holidays. One excursion a day and then you can get back to working on whatever’s so important. I promise we’ll have a good time.”

Ford nods, knowing she means every word. As much as the idea of spending a holiday with her family scares him, part of him is starting to look forward to it.

"Alright, I'll keep an open mind."

"Good!" She says, flashing him another dazzling smile. "Just pack something for the beach. Trust me, you won't regret it."

As she skips off to finish packing, Ford lingers for a moment, feeling a knot in his chest. He knows he’s getting too close, that spending this weekend with her might only make things harder, but at the same time, he can’t bring himself to back out. Maybe this is a mistake, but it’s one he’s already made.

He has an hour to pack but it only takes thirty minutes. He spends the other thirty pacing back and forth, trying to think. A week is a long time to spend with a girl who could quite possibly be the death of him.

She moves around the apartment in a frenzy as she grabs last-minute stuff. She has these jeans on that hug her hips perfectly with this white top and pink cardigan and a white headband to match. He feels like he couldn’t be more different from her. He feels like she’s a princess and he’s just a guy.

The minutes tick by, and with each second, the reality of what he's about to do sinks in deeper. A whole week with her. A whole week pretending he doesn’t notice every little detail about her. A whole week watching her be effortlessly perfect, while he just tries to keep his head above water.

"Ready?" Her voice jolts him out of his thoughts.

He turns to see her standing in the doorway, suitcase in hand, her face glowing with excitement. Her whole aura radiates warmth, and for a moment, Ford can’t help but wonder if he’s walking into something more dangerous than he’s prepared for.

“Yeah, here I’ve got your bag.” He swallows as he walks over and she lets him take the suitcase.

“Thank you.” She smiles, opening the door and standing against it as Ford steps into the hallway.

The only other thing he’s scared of right now is her driving. She leads him to her little red car as she happily goes to open the trunk. She stands with him as he puts them in with one hand still on the trunk. He goes to open her door and she gets in happily because she’s ready to prove herself as a good driver to Ford.

She hasn’t gotten pulled over yet so she considers that being a good driver. He gets in on the passenger side and thanks god that it’s only an hour and a half drive. Although, that gives her an excuse to tell him her life story.

But he listens. For the first fifteen minutes of the drive, he’s anxiously watching every turn and lane change with bated breath. Ellie, however, seems completely relaxed, chatting about the weekend, the food, and the beach, as if they weren’t cruising at a speed that made him slightly nauseous.

He steals a glance at her, watching the way the sunlight catches the strands of hair escaping her headband, and it’s all too much—her carefree attitude, the way she’s so at ease in the world while he feels like he’s barely hanging on.

They talk and all he can process is her. The car smells like vanilla, even when she rolls the windows down. It smells like her. She seems more in control of the car once they get on the PCH. The road suddenly stretches before them and everything is better.

She sings along to the radio in between telling stories and prodding Ford for some of his own. But she seems to get quieter as they get closer to her house. She taps her fingers on the wheel and her voice has died down.

When he sees there’s a gate to get into where her family lives, he already feels out of his depth. She pulls into the driveway and he notices her deep breath as she turns off the car.

Ford swallows hard, unsure of what to say. This was her reality—this huge house, the manicured lawns, the gate. And here he was, the out-of-place scientist, about to step into a world he was never meant to belong in. He wonders briefly if it’s too late to turn back, but the hopeful way she glances at him makes him stay.

She takes off her sunglasses and puts them in the cup holder before opening the door. It’s a sunny day and it feels like she’s changed too much in these past few months to just be right back here. Her anxiety is gnawing at her but she decides to suck it up.

Everything is a blur as Ford helps with the bags and they begin to walk to the front door. The house is polished and white with greenery ideally placed. It doesn’t feel like a home at all. But she leads the way and unlocks the door. It smells eerily clean, the floors perfectly polished.

And the weirdest part is that no one comes and greets her. No one seems to care that she’s home. Ellie’s steps echo as she walks through the house, and Ford can’t help but notice the tightness in her shoulders, the way her usually relaxed posture seems stiff. She glances over her shoulder, offering a small, almost apologetic smile.

“It’s, uh, a bit much, huh?”

“It’s... impressive.” He gives a small chuckle, trying to ease the tension.

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it.” She lets out a soft laugh, though it sounds forced.

As they pass through the entryway, Ford catches sight of a grand staircase that curves up to the second floor. The walls are lined with portraits—her family, he assumes—captured in perfect poses, their expressions neutral, almost detached. Everything about the house feels like a museum, carefully curated to project an image of success.

Ellie stops at a door and opens it to reveal a guest room that is equally as immaculate. Ford glances around the room, taking in the crisp, white linens and the artfully arranged furniture. It’s beautiful, but it feels like the kind of place you’d be afraid to touch for fear of ruining something.

“Here’s where you’ll stay,” She says, stepping aside to let him in. “I hope it’s okay. My room’s right next door.”

“It’s great. Thanks, El.” He nods.

She looks around for a moment before her eyes fall back to Ford. She bites her lip, her eyes flicking to the floor.

“I’m sorry if this is...a lot.” She says almost nervously.

Ford watches her for a moment, seeing the vulnerability she’s trying so hard to hide.

“I know,” He says quietly. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Thanks, Ford. I—” A soft smile finds her face before she’s interrupted.

“Ellie, are you home?” A woman’s voice calls.

“Yes, I’m upstairs.” Her voice immediately changes before feet begin to shuffle up the stairs.

“Your father is-“ Her stepmother stops mid-sentence, her perfectly manicured hand gripping the banister as her eyes land on Ford. She’s dressed impeccably like she just stepped out of a fashion magazine—tailored blazer, sleek trousers, not a hair out of place. Her smile widens in a way that feels more calculating than warm. “Well, hello, handsome.”

He gives a polite nod that’s more awkward than not and Ellie cringes.

“This is your new boyfriend, yes?” The woman says happily as she does a half-run half-walk to Ford to hold onto his elbows as she looks him over. Ford’s entire face flushes at that comment.

“What? No, I- I called you guys yesterday, he’s my roommate,” She makes a slight face. “This is Stanford.”

“Yeah, yeah, your father was my ‘roommate’ too,” She chuckles. “Anyways, speaking of your father, he’s outside. He wants to see you.”

“He couldn’t have come up here himself?” She asks.

“Don’t start with your tone, little lady. Now, get settled and meet us out on the patio,” She tells Ellie before turning back to Ford. “I’m Sylvia, baby, welcome to our home. Now, the same rules as before, El. Doors stay open if he’s in your room and no sharing blankets. We’ve got standards to uphold, after all. We wouldn’t want any accidents.”

Ford feels like he’s shrinking by the second, his hands clenching at his sides. He’s desperately trying not to let it show, but the humiliation is almost unbearable. Accidents? They might as well have spelled out that these were the exact same rules they had for Ellie and Simon. Now, he’s been mentally grouped into the same category as a high school boyfriend whose only goal was to sneak around these rules.

“I’m an adult- you know what, whatever, I don’t know why I’m fighting this. He is not my boyfriend, Sylvia. And don’t make him uncomfortable, he’s a good guy.” She says one more time before throwing her hands up in defeat and turning to her room.

“That girl always gets so moody at home, I’ll never understand.” Sylvia shrugs before turning around on her heels.

Ford takes a deep breath as she walks away and enters his room. He tries not to let it flatter him that it’s believable that he’d be her boyfriend. He also tries not to let it offend him that she’s so insistent on them not being together.

The room is impersonal, and after he puts away his few belongings, he sits on the edge of the bed, his mind still spinning from the encounter. The way Sylvia looked at him, the unspoken implications—it all felt so strange. He’s never been good with this kind of thing, and now, he’s navigating Ellie’s world, a world he feels entirely out of place in.

Ellie is nothing short of embarrassed. It feels like she’s blushing for the next twenty minutes as she unpacks a few things. She desperately didn’t want Ford to be uncomfortable or anything and this house is already bringing back loads of discomfort. She walks like a ghost to the next door over and lightly knocks.

“Ford?” She calls and the door opens quickly. Ford stands in the doorway, his expression softening when he sees her. The discomfort from earlier is still there, but seeing Ellie so vulnerable makes it easier for him to push aside his own unease.

“Hey,” He says, offering her a small smile, though there’s still a hint of awkwardness between them. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just, um…wanted to apologize about Sylvia. She doesn’t know when to stop sometimes. I didn’t mean for things to get weird.” She clears her throat.

“You call her Sylvia?”

“She’s not my mom,” She shakes her head. “She’s Brighton’s mom. She just feels the need to make a lot of inappropriate comments when guys are around.”

"Brighton’s mom?" He asks and Ellie nods, crossing her arms as she leans against the doorframe.

"Yeah, my dad was kind of married to her before and after my mom passed. Sylvia’s...well, she’s always been like this. Loves the attention and doesn’t care who it makes uncomfortable. Sometimes I don’t think she likes me very much but then sometimes she acts like I’m a project for her to work on and fix.” She rolls her eyes, clearly used to this behavior, but there’s a hint of exhaustion in her voice.

Ford shifts on his feet, unsure how to respond. He’s already overwhelmed by the whirlwind that is Ellie’s family, and now he’s learning about a whole new dynamic he hadn’t expected.

"She used to do it with Simon, too," Ellie continues, clearly feeling the need to explain. "Back when we were in high school, there were all these rules to keep us from...well, doing anything that would make her a grandmother too soon."

She blushes slightly at the memory, her discomfort evident.

“Not that it worked- honestly, I don’t know why I’m still talking,” Her face and neck are bright red now. “Point is, I’m sorry that she’s seriously unbalanced and a little crazy.”

"Yeah, I figured that’s what the rules were about." Ford chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I just didn’t want you to feel weird or like you’re being judged." Ellie sighs, looking genuinely apologetic.

Ford looks at her for a moment, understanding washing over him. He knows what it’s like to feel out of place, and hearing her admit to the same feeling makes him feel less alone in the situation.

"It’s okay, really," He says, his voice soft. "I get it. It’s a lot, but I’m fine."

“Okay. Well, if it gets to be too much, let me know and we can leave. Seriously.” She tells him and he nods.

“It won’t get to that point, this is gonna be okay, El, I promise.” He lowers his voice and watches her eyes waver ever so slightly.

“Let’s, um, go downstairs now, yeah?” She clears her throat, her cheeks still pink as she gestures to the stairs.

“Mhm, okay.” He nods and lets her lead the way again.

He can’t help but feel more protective of her when it feels like her light is being dimmed here. But she looks like their daughter or stepdaughter. She sure can play the part. She opens the sliding doors out to the patio to see her father, Sylvia, and a nine-year-old boy in a karate outfit, presumably her brother.

“Ellie!” The little boy cheers and gets up out of his chair to run to her.

“Bee!” She kneels ever so slightly as he runs to hug her. She squeezes him and sways for a moment before pulling back. “How are you, booger?”

“I’m good, how are you? And who is this? Is that your new boyfriend?” He smiles as she makes a face.

“I’m good and no, he’s not. This is Stanford, my roommate.” She introduces.

“Good to see you too, Eleanor.” Her father stands up and slowly makes his way over.

“Hi, dad.” She walks over to place a kiss on his cheek before turning back to Ford.

“Hello, as she said, I’m Stanford. But please, call me Ford.” Ford clears his throat and holds out a hand to her father.

“Hello, Ford. I’m Tom, the man who’s paying for Eleanor to live with two men.” He shakes his hand.

“It’s not like that.” She rolls her eyes.

“You know how boys can be.” He tells her and Ford feels a little bit of shame creep through.

“Yeah, yeah, anyway. Ask Ford about himself, don’t be rude.” She pats Ford’s back before walking off to grab Sylvia’s martini and take a sip.

“Right. What’s your major, young man?” He asks. “I hope you’re not one of those artsy types who think they can major in ‘being creative’.”

“Actually, I’m in science. Physics, to be specific,” Ford explains and her father nods. “Although, I want to study more sciences too.”

“That’s a bit boring for my taste, but I respect it,” Tom says, crossing his arms. “And how do you find being roommates with my daughter?”

“Don’t ask him that, I’m perfect.” She says as she saunters back over with the martini still in hand.

“Well, I already like this boyfriend better than the last.” He sighs and Ford erupts into a blush that spreads down his neck.

“Not my boyfriend.” She tells her dad.

“Then where’s the other roommate?” He asks.

“Tennessee, he’s visiting family.”

“And why are you not doing the same, Ford?” He asks but Ellie interrupts before he can respond.

“He’s a science guy, he’s too busy. I could only convince him to go an hour away.” She stands by Ford again.

“And anyway, my oldest brother’s got his own family now so my parents always go visit him in Massachusetts for Thanksgiving. My twin’s…all over the place so I’d rather just use this break to get work done.” He explains.

“Ah, you’ve got a twin. Eleanor was a twin but-“

“She ate her, yeah, she told me that when I barely met her.” Ford can’t help but chuckle.

“I carry her with me everywhere I go.” She pats her stomach before turning around with a cheeky grin that makes Ford laugh.

He follows her to take a seat at the table with her family. He sits beside her and he notices the way she moves her chair closer to him. He sits awkwardly perched on a cushioned chair, trying to make small talk with people who feel so far removed from his world.

Sylvia makes more inappropriate comments that are quickly shut down by Ellie. Brighton goes on talking about karate class and Tom…is Tom. Ellie slides the martini back to Sylvia who practically downs it on one sip.

Ellie reacts to their conversations the same way she reacts to class. She fidgets and changes how she’s sitting every minute. It reminds him of the way she taps her pen during class, her mind wandering as she struggles to stay engaged. Here, it’s the same—only this time, it’s her own family making her uncomfortable.

He tries to focus on Brighton’s enthusiastic recount of his karate class, nodding along, but his attention keeps drifting back to Ellie. She adjusts her chair again, crossing her legs, then uncrossing them, her eyes darting between her father and Sylvia.

“Eleanor, if this fine young man truly isn’t your boyfriend, maybe you should consider finding another young man to settle down with,” Sylvia speaks up out of no where.

“What? No, I’m having fun by myself.”

“Of course, you are. You’re in college. Women run around too much these days, you should just finish your schooling and come back home. My friend Norman’s got a son who-“

“Can we please not talk about this right now?” She asks and her father goes to speak again but she just stands up. “Ford, let’s go do something fun instead of listening to them wanting me to be a housewife.”

“Oh, um, okay.” Ford nods as he stands up out of his chair.

“Do not fornicate in my house just to spite me.” Her father calls as she begins to walk always

“We’re going to play golf, don’t be disgusting!” She shrieks.

Ellie storms off, dragging Ford along by the arm as her father’s comment hangs in the air. Ford, thoroughly embarrassed, glances back at the table and gives an awkward wave before hurrying to keep pace with her.

“They are next-level embarrassing,” She mumbles as they walk. “I promise they don’t usually talk about sex this much. Especially with Brighton hanging around.”

Ford tries to keep up with her brisk pace, a little taken aback by her frustration, but wanting to lighten the mood.

“Well, if this is how they talk every holiday, I’m honored you still invited me,” He says, trying to joke as they walk toward the golf course.

“They’re not always like this. I mean, they’re usually unbearable, but they’ve hit a new level today.” Ellie snorts, shaking her head.

“Maybe they’re just testing me,” Ford suggests, his lips curving into a smirk. “Making sure I’m worthy of being your roommate.”

“Yeah, right. They’re just nosy.” She rolls her eyes but can’t help a smile.

As they reach the course, Ellie grabs a couple of clubs, tossing one to Ford.

“If I come into your room later and beg you to get me pregnant to spite them, their insanity has gotten to me,” She says calmly as she inspects the clubs and Ford is practically having heart palpitations. “Let’s not keep score, I just want to hit something right now.”

He holds onto the club she had tossed him, his grip tightening slightly as her words sink in. He can feel the heat rising to his face, and his brain short-circuits for a moment, unsure how to even begin responding to that.

"Uh—" He clears his throat, trying to play it cool, but the image her comment conjures up leaves him scrambling for words. "Well... let's hope it doesn't come to that."

His laugh is awkward, and he quickly looks down at the club, pretending to inspect it. Ellie, seemingly unaware of the chaos she’s caused in his mind, continues adjusting her stance, lining up her first shot. Ford tries to focus on anything but the fact that his heart is racing. The crush he’s been trying to ignore flares up again, but he forces himself to keep things light.

They take turns, hitting balls across the grass with no real aim or precision, just letting the frustration out. After a while, Ellie starts to relax, laughing when one of her swings sends the ball flying in completely the wrong direction.

“That was…impressive,” Ford says, unable to hold back his laughter.

“Shut up!” She giggles, playfully shoving him. “I’m not usually this bad. And you should be careful now that you know I’ve always had a thing for swinging at little white balls.”

They continue to banter, the tension easing with every joke and swing. Ellie’s laughter rings out more and more as they hit balls across the field without a care, the weight of her family’s awkwardness lifting with each minute they spend away from the house.

He notices she becomes more of how she usually is. That carefree girl who’s giggly and smiley and says these funny things that make him want to hear more. He swears to himself that after this break, he’s really gonna distance himself. But now, he might as well let all of these emotions run and then when he goes home, they’ll be gone. Hopefully.

The next morning, she knocks at his bedroom door right at nine am. He opens it, still in pajamas with messy hair to see her in this simple and classic pink dress with her hair perfectly styled. She smiles at him so warmly when he opens it and it’s clear that no one in her family is awake yet.

“Good morning!” She says happily.

“Good morning, Ellie.” Ford can’t help but smile back.

“I was, um, gonna go get some coffee at this place down the street if you wanted to come with me. Especially before Brighton wakes up and wants me to be his personal chauffeur.” She tells him.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll get ready fast.” Ford nods and goes to turn around but she holds onto his arm.

Ellie’s touch lingers for a second longer than Ford expects, and he feels a familiar warmth creeping up his neck. He turns back, meeting her eyes.

“No rush,” She says, her smile still bright. “I’m in no hurry.”

Ford nods, feeling a bit more grounded than the night before but still fighting the pull that Ellie has on him. He can’t help but admire how effortlessly she seems to switch from carefree and playful to warm and kind, and it makes distancing himself seem more impossible by the minute.

She heads down the stairs and paces back and forth while she waits. She tries not to feel embarrassed about her family being weird and making comments because she shouldn’t be. She shouldn’t have to feel and for them being stupid. Ford's hesitation about coming home with her had been clear from the start, and now, after everything that happened yesterday, she's afraid he’ll see her in a worse light. That he’ll think she’s just a product of her environment, more shallow and spineless than she wants to be.

She sighs, glancing at the door, and wonders why it matters so much. Ford’s opinion shouldn’t carry this much weight, but somehow, it does. She cares about what he thinks for some reason that frustrates her. Just because he’s nice and smart and doesn’t make her feel bad about things doesn’t mean she owes him trying to hide her home life.

When Ford finally appears, fully dressed, Ellie is quick to smile, pushing her worries aside. He looks like he normally does, a sweater vest over a button-up and nice pants. He could almost fit in up here.

“Ready?” She asks and he nods, walking down with his hands in his pockets. “Come on, you’ve gotta see my dad’s car. I’m taking it, I don’t care.”

“Is that a good idea?” He asks with a smile as she begins to lead the way outside.

“Yeah, you’ll agree once you see the car.” She shrugs happily as they step out into the cool air.

She practically skips down the driveway as she pulls the keys out of her pocket. She turns around and opens her arms in front of a white Cadillac that is nothing if not classic.

“Eleanor Clemente, you should not drive that car, you’re reckless enough as it is.” Ford runs over with a laugh.

"Reckless? Please. I’m an excellent driver. And besides, look at this thing! It’s a piece of art. You can’t just not drive a car like this," Ellie grins at Ford’s reaction, the keys dangling from her fingers. “Unless…do you wanna drive it?” She takes a few steps closer to him and gives him this look that feels like this could be a mistake.

Ford hesitates, glancing between Ellie and the sleek Cadillac. He can see the mischief in her eyes, the challenge in her smile, and it makes him second-guess everything. Driving this car? With her watching him? It feels like stepping into another world—one that’s too tempting for his own good.

“Me? Drive that?” He gestures to the Cadillac, then back at her. “I don’t know, Ellie. I’ve never driven anything like this before.”

“Come on, Ford. Live a little. It’s just a car. What’s the worst that could happen?” She places a hand on his arm.

"I could wreck your dad’s car, for starters." Ford chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“My dad’s not even up yet. He won’t know. And besides, I trust you. You won’t wreck it.” She laughs, tilting her head. Her voice softens, and for a moment, the teasing drops away, leaving only sincerity in her gaze.

Ford feels his resolve faltering, the combination of her playful challenge and the genuine trust she seems to place in him too hard to resist. He takes the keys from her hand, his fingers brushing hers for a moment, and the contact sends an unexpected jolt through him.

“Alright,” He says, swallowing down the nerves. “But if anything happens, you were the one driving.”

“How Gatsby.” She teases, looping her arm through his with that wide grin again.

Despite all of this, his shoulders are relaxed and calm as he opens the passenger side door. The car smells clean too, with a hint of cologne. She leans back with her arms lightly crossed as he gets in and shuts his door.

The engine roars to life and he’s careful as he pulls out of the driveway. Ford is a good driver because he’s constantly worried about being a bad driver. She directs him on where to go to this coffee place and the view is incredible up here. As she gives him the directions, there’s a perfect view of the ocean.

"See? You're doing great," Ellie praises as they turn a corner. "Told you the car wouldn’t be a problem."

“Let’s just hope your dad never finds out.” Ford chuckles, trying to ignore the slight nervousness lingering in the pit of his stomach.

Ellie smiles but doesn’t respond, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. After a few more turns, they pull into the parking lot of a cozy, seaside café. The place is charming, with a handful of tables outside, shaded by large umbrellas. The ocean breeze drifts over them as they step out of the car.

They order their drinks, with Ellie opting for something sweet and indulgent while Ford sticks with a black coffee. After grabbing their drinks, they settle at a table outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sound of the waves crashing in the distance. It’s peaceful for a few moments, just the two of them sitting together, no awkwardness, no family drama—just Ford and Ellie, laughing softly over shared stories and a few sips of coffee.

“I’ve always wanted to go on Broadway. Pursue musical theatre.” She says out of no where, her hands lightly clasped on the table in front of her.

“Really?”

“Yeah. But my parents said it was a bad idea. They claimed that the entire East Coast is like our equivalent of the frontier and that I’d hate it,” She shrugs it off. “I don’t think that’s true but I don’t think I have the courage to find out. Not now anyway.”

“Why don’t you change your major and just do it? You are not the type of person who’s meant to have a normal job.” Ford tells her.

“You think so? You don’t think it’s too late for me to just...switch?” Ellie smiles softly at Ford’s words, her fingers gently tracing the rim of her coffee cup.

“I don’t think it’s ever too late to chase something you’re passionate about. Especially if you’re this sure about it.” Ford shakes his head.

“You know, you’re the first person who’s actually said that to me. Everyone else just talks about what’s ‘practical’ or ‘realistic.’ I think they’re afraid I’ll fail, so they just tell me to do something safer.” She exhales, her smile growing a little wider as she looks at him.

“Well, those people don’t really know you, then,” Ford says, his voice steady but soft. “It’s better to take a risk and do something you love than to settle for something that’ll make you miserable.”

Before Ellie can respond, the café door swings open, and Simon and Natalie walk in. The sight of them immediately sends a wave of tension across the table. Ellie’s expression falters as her gaze catches the engagement ring on Natalie’s hand.

“This fucking guy.” She mumbles, her hand creeping across her face as Ford turns around to see.

Simon sees them too, and there’s a moment of awkward recognition. He whispers something to Natalie before they begin to slowly approach.

“Ellie, Ford,” He says awkwardly. “I didn’t expect to see you two here.”

“This…is my favorite place?” Ellie makes a face and Simon just clears his throat. “You know that.”

Simon’s eyes flick between Ford and Ellie, lingering just a bit too long on the way they’re sitting close together.

“Yeah, I remember now,” He says, a forced chuckle escaping him. “Didn’t think you’d be here with…your roommate.”

His emphasis on the word makes it clear what he’s insinuating. Ford tenses slightly, unsure whether to say something, but Ellie shoots Simon a look that could kill.

“Ford’s just keeping me company,” She replies, her tone sharp but steady as if she wants him to suspect what he’s suspecting. “We’ve gotten really close.”

Simon raises an eyebrow, his smile twitching as if trying to mask his discomfort.

“Close, huh?” He lets the words hang in the air, eyes briefly darting back to Ford. “Well, I guess that’s…good. I bet your parents still have those crazy rules though, huh?”

“No,” She shakes her head. “I guess they just didn’t like you very much. My father let Ford take the Cadillac.”

The lie makes Simon’s jaw drop and the look in his eyes is hilarious. Ellie gestures out to the parking lot where the white car is practically shining in the sun. Simon’s face goes pale for a second before he forces a laugh.

“The Cadillac, really? Well, that’s… something.” He tries to play it off, but the disbelief is written all over his face.

“Yeah, my dad thinks Ford’s… trustworthy. Not like some people.” Ellie leans back, sipping her drink with a smirk that tells Simon she’s enjoying his discomfort.

Ford, still processing the situation, shifts awkwardly in his seat. He glances at Ellie, unsure whether to laugh or feel guilty for being part of her lie, but the amusement in her eyes is contagious. He almost wants to join in but he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Simon stares at them, clearly flustered, before trying to recover.

“Well, that’s great, Ellie. Really great. I guess things change when you’ve moved on.” His voice carries a bitter edge now. Natalie, sensing Simon’s unease, steps forward again, her tone sickly sweet.

“I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what Simon and I have now. But I’m glad you’ve found a way to… make do.” She flashes her engagement ring as if it’s a weapon, practically daring Ellie to react.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m doing just fine,” Ellie, though, doesn’t flinch. She looks at Ford, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Aren’t we, Ford?”

“Oh, yeah, I- I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” Ford says, using his innocent nerdiness that makes it even more convincing. “Ellie’s been really… great company. We’ve, uh, really connected these past few days. It’s been—well, it’s been perfect, honestly.”

Ellie beams, biting back a laugh as Ford’s awkward sincerity somehow makes the whole act more believable.
Natalie’s smile tightens, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looks between the two of them.

“Well, I’m happy for you both. It’s nice that you’ve…found someone who makes you happy, even if it’s just a roommate situation,” Natalie tilts her head with a cruel smile.

“It is nice, especially when your roommate is exactly your type and so much better than anyone you’ve ever met.” She reaches over and places her hand on Ford’s.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s hard to find someone who gets you like that. We just…clicked.” Ford’s face turns bright red as Ellie’s hand settles on his, but he forces a smile, trying to stay in character.

Natalie’s eyes flicker to where Ellie’s hand rests on Ford’s, her forced smile wavering.

“Well, not everyone’s that lucky,” She says, her tone still dripping with condescension. “But I’m sure it’s...nice. I’m glad you’re done being the mess you were after Simon broke up with you.”

“It’s more than nice. Actually…thank you for doing that, Simon. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have ever met Ford.” Ellie doesn’t miss a beat, leaning in a little closer to Ford with a playful smirk.

“Well, uh…I guess, you’re welcome. Ee should let you two get back to…whatever you were doing.” Simon, clearly uncomfortable now, shifts on his feet.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to keep you,” Ellie replies with a sweet but cutting smile. “Enjoy the rest of your Thanksgiving.”

Without waiting for a reply, Ellie casually lifts her coffee cup, taking a sip as if the entire encounter hadn’t rattled her at all. Simon and Natalie exchange a quick look before walking away, their forced politeness barely holding together.

As soon as they’re out of sight, Ellie bursts into laughter, squeezing Ford’s hand in appreciation. That smile and that laugh immediately make it all worth it for Ford.

“Ford, I swear, you deserve an Oscar for that performance!” She looks at him so happily.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been that nervous in my life.” Ford, still a bit flustered, laughs awkwardly, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, you were perfect. Exactly what I needed,” Ellie grins, letting out a relieved breath. She gives him a softer smile, his hand relaxing as she still holds it so carefully. “Thank you, really. Seeing his face twisting like that is now the best Thanksgiving memory I’ve had and Thanksgiving’s in two days.”

“Yeah, well, if I ever wondered whether that guy’s an asshole, he’s an asshole. No more doubts necessary.” Ford chuckles before Ellie stands up, still holding Ford’s hand, her smile softening.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” She says, gently tugging him toward the car.

Ford follows, his mind racing, trying to process everything that just happened. His hand is still in hers, and though the moment with Simon and Natalie is over, he feels something stirring in him that he can’t quite shake. She fully laces her fingers with his and swings their arm with a dangerous look in her eyes that could make Ford confess everything he’s been feeling. As they reach the car, Ellie stops by the passenger door and turns to him.

“Seriously, Ford, you’re a lifesaver,” She says, her eyes warm and sincere. Without warning, she leans in and presses a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Ford freezes. His heart skips a beat, and for a moment, his brain completely short-circuits. He can’t think, can’t move, can’t speak—just standing there with a stunned expression as his cheek tingles where her lips had just been. Ellie laughs lightly, clearly amused by his reaction.

“You okay there, Ford?” She asks, tilting her head playfully.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” He manages to stammer, though his face feels like it’s on fire. “Just…fine.”

She grins and he opens the door for her, the moment hanging between them as she slides into the passenger seat. Ford finally moves, still in a daze, as he gets into the driver’s side, his mind whirling from the unexpected kiss. He feels like a teenager, whirling from a measly kiss on the cheek.

Chapter Text

"Okay, now roll for intelligence," Ford says, handing Brighton the dice.

Brighton furrows his brow, his small hands cupping the dice before tossing them onto the table. They clatter across the surface, landing on a solid eighteen.

"Yes!" Brighton pumps his fist, a grin spreading across his face. "So, what does that mean?"

"It means your wizard just outsmarted the ogre," Ford explains with a chuckle, leaning over the table to show him on the game board. "You get to cast a spell before he even realizes what's happening."

"Can I use that fireball spell again? That was awesome!" Brighton asks.

"Sure, but be careful. You're getting low on magic points," Ford warns, but he can't help smiling at Brighton's enthusiasm.

“You guys are so unbelievably cute right now.” Ellie smiles as her two hands are fully in the turkey which is slightly off-putting.

“I wish Ford was my brother.” Brighton whines and Ford turns a new shade of red at this entire interaction.

“Too bad, he’s already got a brother. Two of them.” She teases, continuing to massage butter into the turkey.

"Yeah, I’m not sure they'd be willing to share." Ford laughs awkwardly, feeling his face heat up even more.

"Well, if they don't, I'll just trade them for you," Brighton insists, completely serious as he rolls the dice again. "Besides, you're way cooler than my sister."

“You know what, give me back the twenty I gave you yesterday.” She giggles as she finally pulls her hands out.

“Wait, what?” He complains.

“Kidding. And for the record, I’m way cooler than Ford." She points but her hands are messy.

She walks over to the sink and hears Brighton whispering something about how Ford’s cooler and she wants to say something but stays quiet. After washing all of the stuff off of her hands, she runs upstairs to go get the recipe book after realizing she has the memory of an old man. As soon as she leaves, Brighton turns to Ford with a more serious face.

“I like you,” He says out of no where. “I know you’re not her boyfriend but I kind of wish you were. Simon would barely even look at me, he wouldn’t let me sit in his car because he said I was probably sticky. Thank you for talking to me.”

Ford is taken aback by Brighton’s sudden honesty, blinking in surprise before offering a warm smile. He has a lot to tell Fiddleford when he gets home. If he can muster up the courage to even tell Fidds how he feels about Ellie in the first place.

“Thanks, Brighton. I’m really glad we’ve been able to hang out. You’re a great kid. And honestly, I don’t think you’re sticky.” He chuckles.

“Good, I washed my hands before we started playing.” Brighton laughs.

“Bee!” Ellie calls as she walks back into the kitchen. “Go shower and get ready.”

“Ugh, why?” He asks.

“Bee!” Ellie calls as she walks back into the kitchen, recipe book tucked under her arm. “Go shower and get ready. Dinner’s soon.”

“Ugh, why?” Brighton groans, clearly not thrilled about leaving the game behind.

“Because you’re not showing up to dinner smelling like sweat and victory,” she teases, nudging him toward the stairs. “Go. Now. Dad’s watching football and when he’s done and goes to shower, you’re gonna wanna go at the same time and then you’re gonna have to wait.”

Brighton rolls his eyes but eventually drags himself upstairs, muttering something under his breath about showers being unnecessary.

Ford chuckles, watching him leave before turning to Ellie. She puts the turkey in the oven and goes back to the potatoes that are done boiling.

“Need any help with the rest of dinner?”

“Actually, yeah. You could start slicing the bread for me.” Ellie pauses for a moment, glancing at the counter filled with ingredients.

Ford nods, grabbing a knife and getting to work. As they fall into a quiet rhythm, Ford lets himself think again. This week has been so much more different than he’d expected. They took Brighton to the beach, played some more golf, and got in the pool where she taught Ford how to play mermaids. And it’s been nice. Nicer than he ever could’ve expected.

“Why do you cook Thanksgiving dinner and why does no one help you? I mean, it seems like something that…you wouldn’t have to do, considering your family.” He asks.

“Yeah, you’d think, right?” Ellie lets out a soft laugh as she’s now mashing the potatoes in a steel bowl. “We used to have a chef. A whole crew of people who’d come in and do everything for us. But a few years ago, I got into this massive fight with my parents about it. I told them it felt wrong having people work on Thanksgiving when we’re just sitting around doing nothing. I wanted them to let the staff go and spend the holiday with their own families.”

“And they didn’t like that idea?”

“No, they definitely didn’t,” She rolls her eyes, recalling the memory. “They basically said, ‘Fine, if you think you’re so nice, you can cook the dinner yourself.’ It was their way of calling my bluff, I guess. But I didn’t back down. I made the whole thing that year, and I’ve been doing it ever since. You’d think we’re the goddamn royal family with their ideals.”

“That’s…really impressive.” Ford looks at her with a soft smile.

“It’s not that big of a deal. But it feels more like Thanksgiving when I do it, you know? Like it actually means something.” Ellie shrugs, though a small smile tugs at her lips.

“That makes sense. Still, I don’t think I could handle all the pressure of making a big dinner and then having to deal with a party afterward.” Ford nods, slicing through another piece of bread.

“Yeah, well, the party’s more for my parents than it is for me. The dinner’s the part I actually enjoy.” Ellie lets out a sigh, her eyes flicking toward the clock.

There’s a brief silence before Ford speaks again, softer this time.

“For what it’s worth, I think it’s pretty amazing that you do this.” He tells her.

“Thanks, Ford.” She hesitates for a moment, then adds, “You know, you’re the first person who’s ever really asked me that. Everyone else just assumes I like cooking or something. And you’re the first person to ever actually help me.”

“Well, I’m glad I asked,” Ford smiles warmly. “And anyway, I’m from New Jersey. My mom would get pissed off and start complaining how no one appreciates her and how she does everything so everyone kinda had their own role to do.”

Ellie watches Ford slice through another piece of bread, his movements precise, his focus unwavering. She feels a strange warmth in her chest, something she hasn't quite experienced before—at least, not in the way it hits her now. He looks like he’s performing surgery on this bread and it makes her smile.

"You know, you're way more helpful than I expected." She says, a smile tugging at her lips. She doesn’t quite know why she’s saying it, but she likes the way Ford looks at her in response, his soft, kind eyes meeting hers with an almost shy warmth.

“I’m just following orders. I like being told what to do when it comes to this.” He shrugs it off, looking flustered.

“I don’t just mean now, I mean in general. I thought you didn’t like me at first, it seemed like you didn’t. But I do this thing where I just force my way into people’s hearts when I like them. I like a challenge and I saw you, all focused and so not interested in knowing me and I decided that I was gonna make myself your friend,” She tells him. “One of my best decisions in college so far.”

Ellie glances at him as she talks but something about the way he moves, the way he’s just...here, helping her out without asking for anything, makes her pause. Her eyes linger on him a little longer than necessary. Maybe it's the way his glasses slip down his nose or the way his sleeves are rolled up just enough to reveal a little bit of his forearm—details she never cared about before but, for some reason, she notices now.

And the way he’s been so nice to her brother makes her realize that maybe she’d been settling for less for far too long.

Ford, still focused on his task, feels a flush creep up his neck as Ellie’s words sink in. He glances over at her, momentarily caught off guard by the openness in her voice.

"I didn’t…not like you," He says carefully, setting down the knife for a moment and wiping his hands on a dish towel. "I just…I don’t always know how to act around people. Especially people like you."

"People like me?"

"Yeah," He continues, stumbling over his words slightly. "You’re confident, outgoing, and—" He stops, realizing he’s getting dangerously close to saying too much, "Just very different from me."

"Well, it’s not like I gave you much choice. I was determined." She shrugs happily and Ford smiles, that shy, slightly crooked smile that somehow makes her heart skip a beat, though she doesn’t understand why.

"I’m glad you were. I think I needed that push." He tells her as their eyes meet for a brief second, and Ford quickly looks away, clearing his throat. "And, uh, thanks. For saying that. I’m…glad we’re friends."

Ellie watches him, her heart warming at the way he fumbles through the conversation, clearly not used to compliments or moments like this. She notices how genuine he is—how he’s never tried to impress her, yet somehow does anyway. And for the first time in a long time, she wonders what it might be like to care about someone who cares about her, too, without strings attached.

"Yeah," She says softly, her voice a little more sincere than she intended. "Me too, Ford."

Ford pauses for a moment, catching something different in her tone, but before he can say anything, she’s already turned back to the stove, the moment slipping away just as quickly as it came.

Now sitting around the table, Ellie, Ford, and Brighton wait for Tom and Sylvia. After thirty minutes of waiting, Ellie stands up and walks over to the kitchen, coming back with a knife in hand that almost scares Ford and Brighton.

They’re especially scared when she violently stabs it into the turkey and then turns to them. Ford and Brighton exchange a wide-eyed glance as Ellie stands there, the knife embedded in the turkey. There’s a split second of silence before she crosses her arms, her expression calm but clearly irritated.

“That’s it,” She says with forced cheerfulness. “We’re not waiting any longer. They can eat cold turkey when they get here. We’re starting now.”

“Is this something new that started after college?” Brighton looks from the knife to Ford, then back to Ellie.

“I guess we’re having dinner without your parents?” Ford, still slightly rattled by the suddenness of the moment, shrugs, trying to play it off.

"Yep. They’ll be fine, trust me. They’re more interested in their party tonight anyway." Ellie nods, exhaling deeply as she sits back down. Her voice holds an edge, a bitterness that she doesn’t bother hiding.

“I’m sure it tastes great, Ellie.” Ford clears his throat.

“Aww, thank you,” She smiles and pulls the knife back. “I have no idea how to cut this, my dad always does it.”

“Here, I’ve got it.” Ford stands up, pushing his chair back as he leans over.

“You know how?” She asks as he leans over to take the knife.

“No,” He chuckles but it dies down as their fingers brush as his hand wraps around the knife handle just as Ellie’s fingers slide away, lingering for just a second too long. “I’ll…um, figure it out though.”

She sits back down with a smile as he observes the turkey like a puzzle. Again, he looks like he’s about to perform surgery. He finally makes one slice that’s a little crooked but not bad.

"There! Not too bad, right?" He grins at Brighton, who’s eagerly watching him.

"Better than Dad, actually," Brighton says through a mouthful of mashed potatoes, causing Ellie to laugh.

“We have to take a picture in a minute.” She tells them.

“So it can look like I’m your guys’ kid?” Brighton giggles.

“No, that wouldn’t be possible,” She waves it off, standing up again to go get the camera. “I don’t think. What’s eighteen minus nine?”

“Nine,” Ford answers as if on autopilot.

“Yeah, not possible.” She shakes her head, grabbing the camera from the counter.

She brings it around and positions it so the three of them are in the frame before taking it. She immediately walks off and puts the camera back as Ford starts putting some turkey on plates.

“My oldest brother is way older than me and my twin,” Ford starts as he puts some on Brighton’s plate. “He was already a teenager when we were born so when he’d ask if he could go with his friends and stuff, my mom would say ‘yeah, just bring the babies’ every single time. He used to walk around with us everywhere and people always thought he was our young dad.”

“You’re a twin?” Brighton asks.

“Yeah, his name’s Stanley. But we couldn’t be more different…same face, though.” He shrugs.

“It’s still so weird that there’s another you just walking around out there,” Ellie tells him. The few other times she’s met someone with a twin, she jokes that that’s a sandwich she’d want to be in but has decided not to because Ford would probably explode.

“You’d probably like him more than me, so it’s better that you don’t meet him.” Ford chuckles and Ellie smiles, leaning back in her chair as she watches Ford with playful eyes.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” She says, her voice light but carrying just a hint of something more. “I think I’m good with the version of you I’ve got.”

“You, uh, really think so?” He fumbles, not quite sure how to take the compliment as he walks around to sit beside her again.

“Uh, yeah,” She says happily before nudging him. “You’re pretty great.”

Tom and Sylvia never joined them for dinner, too busy with party preparations. But it’s fine because this has been Ellie’s favorite Thanksgiving. It almost makes her sad thinking about how it’s gonna be next year.

After getting into a stunning pink dress for the party, she walks into Ford’s room after knocking twice. His shirt isn’t buttoned at all and his face flushes when she sees him but she’s as casual as ever.

“I have like…a really good idea for a musical, I think,” She says calmly as she shuts the door and locks it which turns him even more red. She talks as if this is completely normal, strolling over to his mirror while putting in an earring like she hasn’t just walked in on him while his shirt is still wide open. “It could be about a huge group of those little newsboys that used to be big in New York and they go on strike.”

Ford’s brain is short-circuiting as he quickly fumbles to button up his shit. She’s right there—in his room—while he’s still practically half-dressed. She’s just talking about newsboys like this is all totally casual. He finally gets the last button done, but his hands are shaking, and he can’t even remember what she just said. Something about…a musical?

“Uh… yeah, that sounds… that sounds great,” He stammers, his voice cracking on the last word. He tries to act normal, but he knows he’s failing miserably. “The, uh, newsboys…they could—yeah, um, sing about… newspapers.”

“How revolutionary.” She smiles as she walks over to him.

He doesn’t know how to breathe and function as she grabs his tie from the bed and gently pulls it around his neck. He looks down as she begins to tie it, her fingers working quickly and the small smile on her face ever-present.

Ford can’t believe this is happening. Ellie is standing right in front of him, tying his tie like it’s the most natural thing in the world, while he feels like his heart is about to pound out of his chest. His mind races, trying to make sense of the situation, but all he can focus on is how close she is—so close that he can smell the faint perfume she’s wearing.

And then he wonders what would happen if he just kissed her right now. What would she do? What would she say? Would she kiss him back? He’s never once considered just kissing anyone like this. But she’s warm and she smells like vanilla and she’s quite possibly the most beautiful woman in the world.

Her fingers move deftly, looping the tie through with ease, and Ford can’t help but glance down, watching her hands at work. His pulse quickens when her fingers brush against the collar of his shirt, sending a jolt of electricity through him.

She finishes tying the knot, her hands lingering for just a moment before letting go. Ford’s hands twitch, unsure of what to do with them now that she’s so close, and he’s standing there like a statue.

“You clean up nicely, Mr. Pines,” she says with a playful grin, taking a small step back to admire her work.

“Thank you,” He says nervously. “And you…Ellie, you are absolutely stunning. I mean, um, it’s one thing to be so perfect on the inside but to look so beautiful on the outside too…”

Ellie’s breath catches in her throat at Ford’s words. She feels the heat rise to her cheeks almost instantly, her usual confidence faltering.

“Oh, wow, um…” She stammers, clearly flustered by the unexpected compliment. Her fingers twitch, fiddling with her earring as she tries to compose herself. “That’s… really sweet of you to say, Ford.”

She glances away for a moment, hoping to steady her heartbeat.

“But, uh, I should—” She gestures vaguely toward the door. “The guests will be here any minute. I should probably go… make sure everything’s ready. I mean, ha! Who’s Ellie, right?”

Ellie gives him a quick, almost nervous smile before turning to leave, her pulse still racing as she processes what just happened. She immediately regrets being stupid but heads down the stairs either way.

As the party unfolds downstairs, Ellie moves through the crowd with practiced ease, greeting guests and exchanging polite conversation, though her mind keeps drifting back to her moment with Ford. And just as she has that though, he comes around but her father has other plans to bring him around the room.

She can't help but sneak glances at him from across the room, catching him looking awkward in his formal attire but somehow fitting into the chaos of her world. She leans against the wall, a glass of champagne in her hands as she watches him. He is kind of cute. Maybe really cute. But knowing her, she probably just wants to climb him like a tree and then she’ll be fine like a cat in heat.

She tries to excuse it. Maybe she’s ovulating. But it’s not just his handsome face and broad shoulders, it’s the way he acts. He’s warm and brilliant and surprisingly kindhearted.

Ellie lets out a small sigh, taking a sip of her champagne as she continues watching Ford, her mind racing. She’d never felt this way about someone like him before—he’s awkward, too polite, too serious—and yet, there was something undeniably charming about the way he moved through the room like he didn’t quite belong but was trying his best anyway.

She can’t help but smile a little. Maybe it's more than just physical attraction. There’s something about Ford that makes her want to get closer, to break down the walls he puts up and see what’s underneath. He’s not like the guys she’s dated before, and that thought makes her both curious and nervous.

Her father suddenly swoops in, pulling Ford away into a group of other men, and Ellie watches as he’s dragged into some stiff conversation, clearly uncomfortable. Her smile fades slightly as she realizes she doesn’t like seeing him like this—out of place, unsure.

She takes another sip of her drink, leaning her head back against the wall. Maybe she’s overthinking it. Maybe it’s just the champagne talking. But something about Ford is different, and she can’t shake the feeling that this might be more than her usual fleeting interest.

Before she can process what she’s doing, she walks over to the big table of champagne glasses and takes the full bottle beside them. She then walks over to Ford with her father and sneakily holds Ford’s hand to pull him away. The feeling of her fingers lacing with his startles him but it also feels natural in a horrifying way.

“Wanna get out of here?” She asks and he nods.

“Yeah, this is not exactly my type of party.” He tries to smile.

“Is any party your type of party?” She asks as she begins to drag him away.

“No, actually.” He tells her with a laugh that continues as they quickly run up the stairs, hands still intertwined.

She leads him into her room and locks the door which could almost make him panic again. She kicks off her heels and practically collapses on the floor, sitting against her bed as she invites him to sit with her. The lighting is dim, the big light being off and the only light in the room being warm string lights.

He joins her on the floor as she pops open the bottle and immediately takes a sip before she starts choking. She places a hand on her chest as she coughs a few times before taking another sip. He smiles after that whole thing before she hands the bottle to
him.

“So, has this been the best Thanksgiving or what?” She asks before hiccuping.

“Yes, El, it has.” He says honestly.

“I really didn’t want to disappoint you,” She admits and his eyes soften as he looks at her. “I know it’s not very homey here and things aren’t normal. Here, my parents don’t eat Thanksgiving dinner with us because they’re probably day-drinking and planning for a stupid party. My brother runs around wild and my ex lives a few houses down. But I’ve really tried to make it fun for you because you deserve it. You work yourself to death the rest of the year, you should let yourself have fun when the world gives you a break.”

“This week has been perfect, Ellie. I’ve had so much fun just being around you,” He tells her. “I’d love to do this more but it’s not that easy to just let myself take a break. I feel like I’m meant to do something special and stopping for simple pleasures would be like…I don’t know, slapping the universe in the face.”

“Maybe you are meant for something special but you definitely can’t be everything you want before you’re ready for it. Live your life, underage drink with your roommate in her bedroom.” She smiles and opens one arm to gesture to the room before taking another sip.

“Why do you try to set me and Fidds up with people?” He asks.

“Because it makes me happy to make other people happy. Or to at least try. I know you’re too focused or whatever for relationships anyway but it’s fun to distract myself with finding you guys someone. Especially when my love life has been in shambles for months.” She shrugs.

“My love life has barely even taken its first steps,” He sighs as he picks up the bottle too, his body already loose. “I haven’t dated anyone before, not really. I’ve only ever had sex two times and I don’t know why I’m admitting that to you.”

“Sex is the best way to segue into dating though. Well, I don’t know, I don’t know anything, I’ve just seen that in books. I’ve only ever had two boyfriends and I’ve only had sex with one of them because I dated the other when we were in middle school. You didn’t want a relationship after that?” She asks.

“They were both random girls my freshman year…last year. They both literally ran from me after because my fingers freaked them out. One of them said my hands were disgusting and I should look into getting the extra fingers removed.” He tells her, taking another sip from the bottle.

“That’s horrible. I wish you realized your worth more. You shouldn’t have taken that, I would’ve told her that clearly, my hands weren’t that disgusting if you let me inside of you.” She speaks as if she’s genuinely offended, as if this happened to her instead.

“I’m not worth anything, Ellie,” He chuckles. “I’m so antisocial to most people, you had to spread me open to get to know me. Six fingers is weird and I guess so am I. I’ve just accepted that I’m never gonna have one of those great loves. Maybe it just wasn’t meant for me.”

“You’re worth everything to me,” She shrugs, her tone so sincere. “You deserve to be happy, Ford. You are…such a great guy. I think everyone, no matter how deserving they think they are, has two great loves. I don’t think you’re the exception.”

“Do you think your mom was your dad’s other great love?” He asks and she looks down for a second before grabbing the bottle again to take a quick sip.

“No,” She shakes her head. “He didn’t love her. She didn’t love him. And he’s disgusting for everything that happened that resulted in me being born. He was married to Sylvia when he had an affair with my mother. She was one of the cleaning staff which is a disgusting stereotype made real that makes me nauseous thinking about. When she got pregnant, he tried to get rid of me but my mom wouldn’t budge. And then she died a little after I was born and he buried her in the furthest corner at the very edge of the gold course. Sylvia decided she wanted to be the bigger person and ‘raise me as her own’ but it was never genuine. It never meant anything to her. I don’t know anyone on my mom’s side of the family, they don’t even talk about her. Sylvia used to beg me to lighten my skin and when I started learning Spanish, she threw my little book away so I secretly bought a new one. My dad was barely around. I don’t want to be a product of that, I don’t even want to be a part of it, really.”

“You aren’t a product of it,” He shakes his head, holding onto both of her forearms as he speaks. “You are so much more, you are…you are one of the best people I think I’ve ever met, El. You make everything better. I admire you so much, more than anything or anyone.”

The look in his eyes tells her that something between them isn’t the same as it was. She assumes that it’s not real and that she’s just making things up until she realizes the way they lean into each other. Until she finds herself moving closer to him, his cologne filling her senses. He leans in to kiss her, everything in him is craving it. He just wants to feel her lips pressed against his and just before his eyes fully shut, she tosses herself into his arms.

His arms wrap around her as she holds onto him. She hugs him so tightly and he feels his heart pounding against his chest. He got too close. He almost just lost everything he had built and he should’ve known better thinking that she would’ve wanted to kiss him too.

But for her, she was gonna do it. She was so close but then she chickened out and felt like an idiot. He had just said he’s not the relationship type and that he doesn’t want any of that. Why would her stupid mind make her think something was there when there was nothing?

But he’s warm and he smells like pine and he holds her so carefully. His broad shoulders are so nice to hold onto and for a moment, she wishes that she could just for once say what she feels.

“Thank you, Ford. I think…I think you’re my best friend.” She whispers and his heart flips and his yearning for her is increased by a million.

“You’re mine too, Ellie.” He says quietly but he’s still terrified. He can’t let himself get this close again or else everything is gonna be messed up. He lives with her, for fucks sake, he has to stop these feelings.

Chapter Text

“Do either of you want these?” Fiddleford holds out a saran-wrapped plate of brownies like they’re radioactive.

“Hell yeah, I do.” Ellie takes the plate and puts them between her and Ford.

“Do I wanna know?” Ford asks Fiddleford who takes a few steps back and points to Ellie.

“That girl you set me up with from your sorority made them for me and said they’re extra special, what was I supposed to do?” He shrugs.

“Thank her,” She shrugs, picking her feet up, bringing her knees to her chest and putting her work to the side as she begins to open it. “My major’s officially changed, time to celebrate.”

Ford watches as Ellie excitedly unwraps the brownies, her face lighting up as if it’s Christmas morning. He can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. Even something as small as a plate of questionable brownies has the power to lift her spirits.

"So, I take it your audition went well?” Ford clears his throat, still trying to be distant but also curious.

“Well enough, clearly. I didn’t tell them I had been sick the week before so I thought I sounded like shit. Clearly not,” She shrugs, taking a bite before holding it out to Fiddleford. “Want to try a little bit?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never done it before. Have you?” He asks Ford.

“No, but those are making my mouth water so I might.” Ford shrugs.

“I’ll do it if you do it,” Fidds says like a child would.

“This is why you guys be nice to people, you’re welcome for trying to find you love, by the way,” Ellie says calmly, retracting her hand and taking another bite. “Split one if you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared, my brother Stanley was high for half of high school and he turned out…well, whatever, I’ll be fine.” Ford finally reaches over and grabs one.

“I am.” Fiddleford takes a seat on the floor.

“Then don’t do it, this isn’t a PSA peer pressure situation.” Ellie shrugs.

“I know but who am I if I don’t do anything slightly fun in college? What stories will I tell my kids when they’re old enough?” Fiddleford asks.

"You think your kids are gonna be impressed by a brownie story?" Ellie chuckles, her head tilted back as she takes another bite.

"Maybe not, but it's the principle of it. Gotta have something wild to reminisce about when I’m old and boring, right?" Fiddleford shrugs, a sheepish grin on his face.

"Your kids are probably going to care more about the weird shit you’ll be doing in your garage than a questionable brownie from college." Ford, finally breaking off a piece of his own brownie, rolls his eyes.

"You’re gonna be the cool dad with all the weird inventions, Fidds.” Ellie laughs.

“I’ll do it, might as well do it before my kids are making fun of how weird I am.” He impulsively grabs one and takes a big bite.

“How much do you wanna bet I’m gonna find Fidds his wife?” Ellie asks Ford.

"I don’t know if I’d put money on that. Your track record is…hit or miss so far." Ford raises an eyebrow as Fiddleford cautiously chews his piece of the brownie.

"Excuse me, my matchmaking skills are unparalleled. Just because Fidds is slightly difficult to pair up doesn’t mean I’m not capable.” She defends.

"I appreciate the effort, Ellie, but you know, I’m not exactly holding my breath." Fiddleford, sitting cross-legged on the floor, looks between them with mild amusement.

"That’s just because you haven’t met the right girl yet," Ellie says with confidence, taking another bite of her brownie. "But mark my words, I’ll find her. Just you wait."

Ford leans back against the couch, wiping his hands off on his jeans, the familiar distance creeping back in, but there's a faint warmth in his eyes.

"What about you, Ellie? Are you still on the hunt for someone?" He asks.

"Me? Please. I’m too busy playing Cupid to worry about my own love life. Besides, I’ve got my hands full with you two idiots." Ellie gives him a mischievous smile, her eyes sparkling in the dim light.

Ford chuckles at that, though there’s a fleeting look of something more in his eyes. But before he can say anything else, Fiddleford interrupts, looking down at his half-eaten brownie.

"Wait… how long does it take for these things to kick in?" He asks.

“I don’t know, I’ve never timed it.” Ellie shrugs.

“I think my heart is flipping.” He tells her.

“You’re psyching yourself out, you barely just ate it.” She laughs.

“Yeah, you literally just swallowed it a few seconds ago.” Ford tries.

“I’m scared, I’m gonna go make myself throw up.” He stands up before immediately falling back down.

“I’m gonna sleep so good tonight.” Ellie hums as she puts her books on the floor and moves the brownies on top of them before laying herself out on the couch. She puts her feet in Ford’s lap and he doesn’t know what to do, his face flushing immediately.

Fiddleford takes his fall as a sign to stay down. He lays flat on his back and stares at the ceiling fan and waits for whatever is about to hit. His fingers twitch like they want to move but he can’t figure out where to place them. His face is burning, and his heart is pounding too loudly in his ears. He’s never been in a situation like this—so casual, so intimate—where everything feels magnified.

Ford watches Ellie get comfortable on the couch, her feet resting casually in his lap. His pulse quickens, but he tries to keep his composure. The room feels warmer somehow, the low hum of the ceiling fan mingling with the soft, muffled laughter of distant conversations outside. He can see Fiddleford lying on his back, eyes wide as he stares up at the spinning blades, clearly trying to keep it together.

His fingers twitch like they want to move but he can’t figure out where to place them. His face is burning, and his heart is pounding too loudly in his ears. He’s never been in a situation like this—so casual, so intimate—where everything feels magnified.

He ends up casually placing his hands on her legs as if he’s holding her steady. Ellie’s already lost in her own world, humming softly, a lazy smile on her face as she stretches out more, sinking into the cushions of the couch like it’s the most comfortable place in the universe. She drapes one arm over her eyes, shielding herself from the light, utterly at ease.

Fiddleford, on the other hand, is anything but calm. He shifts on the floor, his breathing growing more erratic as he stares up at the ceiling fan like it’s spinning faster than it should be.

"Guys, I don’t think this is right. Why’s my head feel so light but everything else is so heavy? Is that normal?" He asks.

“You’re okay, Fidds, everything’s okay. You’re just freaking out.” Ellie tells him.

“Yeah, it’s probably just the...you know, the brownie kicking in. Don’t think about it too much." Ford clears his throat, his voice shakier than expected.

Ford, glancing from Ellie to Fiddleford, is starting to feel it too. A strange sensation courses through him, like his skin is buzzing, but deeper. He tries to focus on the moment, to ground himself, but his thoughts begin to spiral.

“I can’t feel my heartbeat,” He blurts out, his voice low and serious, though he’s trying to stay calm. His hand unconsciously rests over his chest, searching for something solid, something normal.

Ellie, her eyes half-lidded and serene, shifts slightly on the couch to sit up. It suddenly feels like she’s sitting in his lap even if she’s not. She lazily drapes an arm over him and moves her hand over his chest, her fingers light against his shirt, feeling for the rhythm beneath.

“It’s there,” She whispers with a dreamy smile, her head tilting back. “You’re alive, Ford.”

"Don’t move your hand." Ford’s voice comes out quieter, and calmer, but his face is flushed. He knows she’s high but it’s doing something strange to him—her touch, her calmness in contrast to his own rising nerves. Ellie, barely conscious of the weight of the moment, just smiles dreamily.

"Okay," She murmurs, her fingers relaxed and soft against his chest as if she’s the one tethering him to reality.

He breathes, feeling her hand rise and fall with his chest. Before he can think about anything else, she’s resting her head on his chest. He feels her cheek pressed against him and he tries not to freak out.

“Guys, I see triangles. Everywhere.” Fiddleford says.

“Yeah.” Ford hums.

Ford opens his mouth to say something reassuring, but Ellie’s head is resting against his chest, her hand still gently over his heart, and his mind fogs over again. Her warmth is grounding him in a way he doesn’t fully understand, and for a brief moment, everything feels okay. His heartbeat, which moments ago felt absent, is now steady under her touch.

"You're fine, Fidds," Ellie murmurs, her voice soft like a lullaby. "We’re all just... fine."

Ford can’t speak, he doesn’t want to break whatever spell Ellie’s presence has cast over him. He just closes his eyes and focuses on the rhythm of her breathing, on the way her hair brushes against his shirt. It feels strangely intimate, like a moment he shouldn’t be allowed to have, but he doesn’t want it to end.

Fiddleford continues rambling about the shapes in the room, but Ford can barely hear him. All he feels is Ellie.

“I love you,” Ford whispers into her hair.

“I love you too.” She smiles.

A few weeks later, you’d think Ford is on vocal rest. He locks himself in his room when Ellie’s home or goes for a drive. Fiddleford doesn’t even know what’s wrong with him. The good news is, she’s been in rehearsal every night for the winter show.

Ellie doesn’t seem to notice the shift, at least not immediately. The few days following their brownie-fueled night blur together in rehearsals, late-night phone calls with her castmates, and hours spent practicing her lines. She’s caught up in the excitement of the winter show, distracted by her own whirlwind of activity.

Ford, however, is a mess. He feels like his senses have been heightened. When he’s hiding in his room, he can still hear her every move. Not only in the living room but his room is only a few feet away from hers, their walls connect. He’s practically making himself sick over this because he’s embarrassed and wants to die.

The confession slipped out too easily, as if the high had lowered the walls he’d spent so long building around his feelings. He told her he loved her. He doesn’t even know if that’s true but clearly, his inner self is swayed. He spends hours dissecting it, replaying the moment in his head, wondering if he ruined everything. Every time he thinks about it, his stomach tightens in knots, so he does what he knows best—he runs. He avoids her and hopes she’s too busy with the musical to notice his absence.

He hears the front door shut right around the same time it normally does. It’s nine and her rehearsal usually ends around eight-thirty. He immediately hears muffled singing in the room next to him and he tries his hardest to focus on the essay in front of him.

He’s hunched over his desk and trying his best to not jump out the window. Every step she takes, every sound she makes from the other side of the wall is a reminder of the distance he’s created. He tries to be calm and focused but then he hears quiet footsteps in the hallway followed by a soft knock on the door.

“Ford?” She calls. He’s been avoiding her so much, he’s almost forgotten what it feels like to be in the same room with her. He swallows hard, debating if he should pretend he’s not here, but she knocks again. “Ford, I know you’re in there.”

He silently complains to himself. Of course, she knows. She always knows. He drags himself to the door, opening it just a crack. Ellie stands there, looking much smaller than he’s used to seeing her. She’s still in her rehearsal clothes, her hair a little messy, her face flushed from the cold night air. But there’s something different—her usual confidence feels dimmed, almost fragile. She’s clutching a small flyer in her hands, fingers fidgeting nervously around the edges.

“Hey,” She says softly, her voice almost a whisper. She glances up at him, but there’s a nervousness in her eyes that he hasn’t seen before. “I, um… I wanted to invite you to the show. It’s in a month, after Christmas so, yeah, you’ll be here if you want to go. I’m a lead! So, I’m in it a lot.”

Ford’s chest tightens. He glances at the flyer in her hands but doesn’t take it. The silence between them grows heavy, and he can tell she’s waiting for him to say something, anything. But his thoughts are a mess, torn between wanting to keep his distance and hating the way he’s making her feel.

“I—I don’t know if I can make it,” he stammers, avoiding her gaze. The words feel wrong the moment they leave his mouth. “New semester, you know how it is.”

“Oh…um, yeah, okay,” She mumbles, her voice barely audible. She swallows hard, forcing a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “If you change your mind though, it’d…it’d really mean a lot to me if you came.”

Ford feels like the worst person in the world. He can see how much his distance is affecting her, and it’s killing him. He hates himself for making her feel this way—small, unsure, like she’s suddenly unwelcome in the space they’ve shared for so long. But he can’t help it. He’d only make things worse than they already are if she knew her nerdy, ugly, boring roommate liked her and wanted to spend every second of every day with her.

Not only that, he’d be so unfocused. He can’t let his grades slip because Ellie is taking over everything in his mind. Before he can think, he reaches out and takes the flyer from her hands, their fingers brushing for just a second. Ellie looks up at him, her eyes searching his face for some kind of reassurance, but he’s too caught up in his own guilt to say what he really wants to.

“I’ll think about it, okay?” He tells her.

“Okay,” She nods. “I, um, hope you do! Fidds is going so…if that’s more incentive to go.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll try to go but I don’t know if I can,” He tells her and she stays silent for a second, awkwardly nodding again. “Are your…um, parents going?”

“No, business trip,” She shakes her head. “Well, okay, I’ll see you later, I guess.”

She offers him a small wave before turning and walking away, her footsteps softer than ever as she heads back down the hall. Ford closes the door, leaning his back against it as he stares down at the flyer in his hand.

The bright colors and bold lettering announcing the show feel mocking. He feels more mean than he ever has doing this. He doesn’t want to hurt her but he wishes she could understand that this is for the better. It’s for the better that he doesn’t get close to her. Watching her up on stage would be torture. Watching her smile and sing and do what she loves would make his heart twist.

He doesn’t love her but he’s getting dangerously close.

After an awkward finals season and winter break, the tension is still there. It’s opening night and Ellie is pacing back and forth. Ford didn’t go home for Hanukkah and his mom has been calling the house angrily for weeks. Ellie went home and Brighton was bugging her about Ford.

Christmas was lonelier than she expected. She got a bunch of stuff she didn’t want and her parents were god knows where for most of the time. Brighton still had school for a lot of the time she was home so she spent a lot of time reflecting. Ford had been annoyingly distant.

When she finally thought she had him figured out, he retreated back into his shell and started avoiding her like before Thanksgiving. But he had been so sweet, funny, understanding, and he gave her one of the best Thanksgivings she’d ever had. She even let herself think for a moment that maybe they had something special but it was nothing and she’s just an idiot.

When she goes out during act one, she subtly scans the crowd during the quiet moments. Fiddleford is sitting alone and Ford is no where to be seen. She hates herself for expecting him to go. He’s a busy guy, he’s work-oriented. He’s not usually the type of person to have friends and it’s not like it’s her fault, that’s just how he is. She shouldn’t expect more or less from him.

She knew he wasn’t coming. She told herself that a thousand times—Ford’s too focused on his studies, he’s not one for musicals, he’s not the type to sit through a two-hour performance just for her. But still, part of her had hoped. She catches herself staring at the empty chair longer than she should, her heart sinking as reality sets in.

The applause at the very end breaks her out of her daze, and she forces a smile, slipping back into her role as if nothing’s wrong. But inside, she feels that sting of rejection again. Why did she expect more from him?

She runs to Fiddleford, Lila, and a few other girls she knows from her sorority and thanks them for coming. It feels like she’s in a haze, still thinking about Ford. She doesn’t understand why but she is. When she gets into Fiddleford’s car, she feels a sense of dread going home.

They have other shows, sure. But she invited him to the one tonight because she knew he was busy every other day. She knew better than to believe that he was busy. Maybe she’s just too nice for her own good because she wouldn’t have hesitated to go see something for him.

And then she feels a pang of anger. She had gone out of her way for Ford, bending over backward to make him feel welcome, to let him into her world and what had he done? Pulled away. Avoided her. And tonight—tonight he couldn’t even show up for one stupid show.

She feels her chest tighten with a mix of hurt and rage. She invited him to her family’s house for Thanksgiving, she bought him a suit for that party, she nearly kissed him for fucks sake. She was more vulnerable than ever and he just vanished after they came home.

She storms to her room to get ready to shower. She considers being petty and ‘accidentally’ knocking down all of Ford’s stuff in there. At least until she notices something on her desk. Ellie freezes, her anger dissolving as she stares at the bouquet on her desk. The bright red roses look out of place against the backdrop of her cluttered room, their petals soft and delicate, completely at odds with the frustration still simmering in her chest. She picks up the note underneath them to see Ford’s handwriting.

I’m sorry I didn’t go see your show. I’m sure it was incredible, I’m sure you were incredible as always. And I’m sorry I’ve been off in my own world lately. But I’ve heard that pretty girls get flowers after shows so, here’s hoping you won’t hate me forever.

- F

And that’s when she realizes that Stanford Pines is the most confusing man she’s ever met.

The roses, the apology, the thoughtfulness buried in that frustrating, infuriating man. She doesn’t think she’ll ever understand. She sits down on the edge of her bed, staring at the flowers, trying to wrap her head around him. And for the hundredth time, just when she thinks she knows how things are going, he switches things up and does things like this that make her heart twist.

Ellie sighs, letting her fingers trace the edge of one of the petals. It’s soft and perfect, just like the note. Just like everything Ford does, it’s frustratingly perfect in its own awkward, distant way. And as much as she wants to be angry, wants to hold on to that frustration, the flowers make it impossible.

She decides to give it a break. To not feel or think anything about this and to just go shower and get into bed. Ford is panicking in the next room wondering how she reacted to his gesture. The guilt was practically eating him alive. She has been nothing but sunshine in his stormy life and she deserves to be treated as such, whether or not he likes her.

She’s warm and smiley and his heart is about to rip itself out his chest and go to her. Ellie doesn’t deserve this so he bought her roses and at the same time, found out how much flowers are.

Later that night, Ford wakes up in a pool of sweat, and not from a nightmare, for the first time. He immediately feels disgusting physically and mentally. Obviously, he feels disgusting because he’s covered in a multitude of liquids. But he also feels disgusting because of his mind.

His mind has been running wild lately but tonight? He’s gone too far. It was so vivid, it was like he could feel her on him. He could feel her soft skin and her warmth and hear her voice. The worst part was, he told her again in the dream that he loved her.

His chest is tight, his mind a tangled mess of guilt, desire, and frustration. It’s bad enough that he’s been a dick. But now, he can’t escape her even in sleep. The fact that the sick inner workings of his mind are thinking about her like this and dreaming about it makes him feel like he’s already crossed a line he can’t uncross.

How is he supposed to walk around and be normal after that? After he just had the most vivid dream where he was between her legs, kissing her face, telling her he loves her. But how could he ever want anyone else? He can’t even try to project these feelings onto someone else because Ellie is so perfect to him. How could he ever feel this way about someone who’s not her?

She’s honest and so complicated but that makes things so much more interesting. She’s sweet and funny and has the prettiest smile. She’s never once judged Ford for stupid things like his fingers. The way Ellie smiles at him and is so touchy drives him crazy because he can’t get enough of her.

Chapter Text

“And he’s a musician which is great because he can write songs about me.” Ellie tells Fiddleford as she makes her ‘last soup of winter’ with Ford beside him.

“I’m a musician, should I start leading with that?” He asks.

“Maybe. I think it helps. Actually, I guess I know it does because I have a date tonight.” She shrugs.

“Well, Ellie, I reckon any musician would be lucky to have you. You seem comfortable being a muse.” Fiddleford chuckles.

“Yeah, most of the time. How is it, Ford?” She asks, gesturing to her paper in his hands. A pitch for a musical about the newsboy strike of 1899.

“It’s um, good.” He nods, not having read a single sentence because he’s too caught up listening to her talk about a guy that she met god knows where.

“That’s it? Good?” She leans on the counter to talk to him.

“Yeah, um…interesting.” He nods.

“Oh, my dad is inviting both of you to our house for a week or two this summer. Right after school ends,” She tells them casually. “My cousin’s gonna be there at the same time, just a warning. Anyway, did you even read it, Ford?”

“Ford’s a bit distracted, it seems. Somethin’ on your mind, friend?” Fiddleford says before Ford can answer.

“No, just… thinking.” Ford forces a smile, shaking his head.

He looks at Ellie, trying to push down the jealousy twisting in his gut. It’s stupid. He has no right to feel this way. She’s allowed to meet people, and he’s supposed to be distant, to keep things from getting messy. But the thought of her with someone else—a musician, no less—makes it harder than ever to pretend like it doesn’t matter.

“So…summer?” Fidds smiles, realizing that Ford is too far in his head.

“Oh, yeah,” She starts. “Just a quick little getaway. We have a pool, we’re not far from the beach, there’s golf, and probably more I’ve forgotten to mention.”

“Definitely more, don’t be humble.” Ford hums before he finally begins to read the pitch.

“I don’t know,” She shrugs. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go get ready while this is doing whatever soup should do.”

She walks off and shuts the door to her room and Fiddleford immediately turns to Ford. He just stares for a moment as Ford looks at the pitch like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever read.

“What is going on with you?” Fiddleford asks.

“Nothing,” Ford says, his voice tight. “Just…reading.”

“Right. You’re actin’ like that pitch is the greatest piece of literature ever written, but I know you haven’t been listenin’ to a word Ellie’s said all night.” Fiddleford leans back in his chair, arms crossed.

“I’m just focused, it’s almost time for finals.” Ford lowers the paper.

“Focused? I’ve seen you focused, Ford. This isn’t focused. This is... somethin’ else. You’ve been weird since before Thanksgiving.” He calls him out.

“It’s nothing. Really.”

“Nothing, huh?” Fiddleford leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Then why do you get that look every time Ellie talks about another guy?”

“I don’t look like anything, I don’t do anything different. I just don’t care. Why should I care about whatever dumb things my roommate is doing?” Ford gets defensive. “She’s constantly off in her own world and doesn’t get called out on it, why can’t I? She’s just a rich pretty girl who gets pretty much whatever she wants and probably looks down on us, what are you insinuating?”

“That you’re an asshole,” Ellie walks back normally to go lower the heat on the stove. “I always forget this part, to lower it.”

Ford stiffens, his face flushing as he realizes Ellie heard every word. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. The room feels impossibly small, the weight of his own words pressing down on him. He glances over at Fiddleford, who’s staring at him with a mix of disappointment and concern.

“Ellie-“ He starts.

“No, tell it like it is, right?” She shrugs despite the look on her face that confuses him even more. “Being two-faced isn’t a good look on you. If you think I’m just some spoiled girl, you could’ve just said so from the start instead of pretending to be my friend.”

“I am your friend, El, I-“ He starts but she just turns back around to go to her room.

He feels like an actual piece of shit and doesn’t know what to do from here. She storms off to angrily get ready to meet a guy she’s trying to convince herself she likes. She feels stupid and there’s nothing she hates more than feeling stupid.

The more she thinks about it, the angrier she gets, her jaw clenches as she tries to fight off the sting of tears. She begins to curl her hair more neatly than it already is. She tries not to resort to violence with the curling wand as she does it since Ford’s in the living room still.

She tries to amplify what she usually looks like enough to make sense for a date. If she’s gonna feel stupid, she’s going to at least look like she’s got it all together. Ellie spends enough time to make her hair big.

She adjusts the flowy sleeves of her dress in front of the mirror, and for a second, she hesitates. Why is she even going? She doesn’t care about this guy. She barely knows him, and the idea of spending the evening trying to convince herself she does makes her stomach turn.

All she knows is that she has to leave the house. She grabs her bag and begins to march out the door. Ford sees her as she looks in the mirror by the door. He’s standing in the kitchen, still holding her paper in his hands like it’s a lifeline. He freezes when he spots her. She looks different but beautiful, breathtaking even, and for a moment, he’s too stunned to say anything.

She usually looks nice and put together but she looks slightly messier way that was very obviously calculated. She couldn’t look accidentally messy if she tried. But she has this black dress with flowy sleeves that hugs her waist perfectly and only compliments her hair. She has these boots on the higher side that match perfectly.

He wants to say something, to apologize again, to tell her he didn’t mean any of it. But the words catch in his throat as he watches her head for the door without a second glance. His chest tightens, jealousy swirling in his gut as he realizes she’s leaving to meet someone else.

“How often do you come here?” Stephen raises his voice over the loud
music from the band on stage.

“Most nights.” She yells back, while still swaying.

“For how long?”

“Since high school.”

“Did your parents know?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” She smiles despite the slight irritation.

Stephen shrugs, leaning back slightly, a knowing smirk on his face. The music pounds in the background, and Ellie feels the bass vibrate through the floor under her boots. She lets her gaze drift back to the stage, where the lead singer belts out another verse, the crowd singing along.

After being here for about an hour, she’s gotten sick of Stephen. Even before she got here, she was sick of Stephen. He was late to pick her up, which was annoying on its own. And then she started thinking again about Simon and Ford and everything else she's been thinking about.

Stephen had stood outside of his car so she’d know which one was his. When she saw him, he just walked around and got in. She used to be used to that. Simon had done that. But Ford never did that. He’s always gone around to open the door for her and she’s gotten used to that. And like she had already thought, not even her father used to do that.

He’d walk all the way around to open it and then give her that small smile he always did. It’s pathetic because the guy she automatically compares Stephen to thinks so little of her. He thinks she’s exactly what she was trying so hard to show him she’s not. She’s not vain or mean and yet it seems like that’s what Ford sees.

The crowd surges around her, people shouting and laughing, but Ellie feels strangely disconnected from it all. Stephen, sensing her distraction, leans in again, his voice louder, trying to reclaim her attention.

“You wanna get a drink or something?”

“Sure, whatever.” She shrugs and starts to walk away. He follows after like a lost puppy

“I’d love for my band to play here.” He tells her as she leans against the bar.

“That’d be cool.” She shrugs.

Ellie’s words come out flat, barely masking her disinterest. Stephen doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he doesn’t care. He talks at her, not to her, his voice blending into the chaotic noise of the Whisky. The more he rambles about his band and his big plans, the more she realizes how disconnected she feels from him, from the entire evening.

Stephen orders a drink, still talking about himself, but Ellie’s thoughts drift. She keeps thinking about Ford’s small gestures—his subtle care, his thoughtfulness—things Stephen clearly lacks. And it drives her insane that despite everything Ford said earlier, he’s the one stuck in her head. She orders what must be her third or fourth drink by now and is still lost in her head.

“The dream would be to open for the big guys like…I don’t know, Zeppelin or Black Sabbath,” He continues on. “I’m not for that pussy shit like The Beatles.”

“What did The Beatles do to you?” She asks, taking a sip of her drink.

“Oh, um, nothing, I guess.” He clears his throat.

“You like Grateful Dead? The Kinks? I don’t know, fucking…Van Morrison?” She asks.

Stephen blinks, clearly caught off guard by her sudden interest in music as if the people she named aren’t some of the most popular of their time. He looks uncomfortable for a second, as if she’s testing him and he doesn’t know the answers.

“I mean…yeah, sure.”

“I saw Janis Joplin here a few years back. It was incredible.” She tries to partake in conversation but it feels useless.

“It’s getting kind of warm in here, don’t you think?” He clears his throat.

“Yeah.” She nods almost awkwardly.

“Wanna get going?” He asks.

She nods and downs the rest of her drink before he begins to lead the way out. She follows him out of the bar, the noise and flashing lights of the Whisky-a-Go-Go fading behind them. The crisp night air hits her as they step onto the Sunset Strip, and for a moment, she feels a little more awake, more aware.

Stephen leads the way back to his car, parked a few blocks away. He doesn’t say much as they walk, and Ellie’s thoughts start to drift again. She glances at the couples on the street, holding hands or laughing, and her heart pulls. She wants that but she doesn’t understand why she suddenly feels like she needs it so much more.

She slips inside, the leather seats cool against her skin. Stephen slides into the driver’s seat and starts the car, but instead of driving, he turns to face her, his hand resting casually on the gear shift. She feels a slight sense of dread because she knows what’s coming.

He leans in, his eyes searching hers, and for a second, Ellie feels a flicker of something—nerves, anticipation, maybe just the alcohol. His gaze drops to her lips, and before she can process it, Stephen leans in and kisses her.

It’s fine. It’s okay. But it’s not what she wants.

He tastes like vodka and cigarettes. He kisses her harshly for a few seconds before his lips drag down to her neck. He reaches over to cling to her and it feels like he’s about to climb over into the passenger seat. And then he does.

She tries to convince herself this would be good. She hasn’t had sex in months and he’s not ugly. He pushes the seat back and puts himself between her legs. She wraps her arms around his neck and runs her fingers through his hair as he kisses down to her chest.

Ellie kisses him back, but the entire time, her mind is somewhere else. She keeps thinking about how different this is from the kiss she actually wants. There’s no spark, no pull. It’s just... there. As Stephen presses in closer, she realizes with startling clarity that the only person she’s really wanted to kiss lately is Ford.

She lets herself imagine it for a second, being like this with Ford instead of Stephen. His body pressing into hers, his lips everywhere, his warm breath on her skin, and she can’t help but let out the smallest moan before it hits her more clearly that this is not okay. She wants a man who feels the opposite for her.

Stephen’s pushing her skirt up around her hips and his hands run along her thighs. She feels him hardening against her thigh and it makes her feel slightly bad when she realizes she can’t do this. She pulls away and looks at him and he starts to come back to her before she places a hand on his chest.

“We can’t. I, um, missed my birth control.” She whispers and he moves away like she’s got an infectious disease.

“Another time then, yeah?” Stephen shifts back into the driver’s seat with a frustrated grunt, his face still red, but he forces a casual smile.

“Mhm.” She nods, knowing it’s not true.

He starts the car, and the silence between them feels heavier than before. The engine rumbles to life, and Stephen pulls away from the curb, navigating the dark streets back to her place. Ellie leans her head against the window, the cool glass soothing her flushed cheeks. Her stomach churns—not from the alcohol, but from the realization that she’d let it get this far just to prove something to herself.

She feels embarrassed over the events that just happened. It’s even more embarrassing that she almost wanted to keep going with Stephen and close her eyes and imagine it was her nerdy roommate. She couldn’t have.

The car comes to a stop in front of her apartment building. Stephen doesn’t say anything, just gives her a short nod as she opens the door.

“Thanks for the ride,” She says quietly, stepping out of the car and shutting the door before he can reply.

She doesn’t look back as she walks to the front door, her heels clicking against the pavement. The sound feels too loud in the quiet night.

Inside, the apartment is dimly lit, the familiar scent greeting her as she closes the door behind her. For a moment, she stands there in the dark, feeling the weight of the evening press down on her. She slips off her boots, the relief almost immediate as she pads softly to her room.

Once inside, she doesn’t bother turning on the light. The moonlight filtering through the window is enough. Ellie sinks down onto the floor by her bed, her back pressed against the edge of the mattress. She pulls her knees up to her chest, resting her head against them. The frustration, the loneliness, it all crashes into her at once, making her feel even smaller in the quiet of the room. She hadn’t realized how much she’d let tonight get to her.

A soft knock at the door startles her, and for a moment, she freezes. She knows who it is before she even hears his voice.

“Ellie,” Ford breathes out. “I- it’s me, it’s Ford.”

“Come in.” She says mindlessly.

He walks in and he looks adorable despite the frown on his face. He has his pajamas on with this big sweater and socks that make him look warm and cozy. Ellie tries not to be too enchanted by it.

“What do you want?” She looks up as she shuts the door.

“I have to talk to you, Ellie.” He breathes out.

“You already said how you feel, I don’t need to know more.” She tells him.

"Ellie, I didn’t mean it like that," He stammers, stepping toward her. "I—"

"You did, though," She cuts him off. "Ford, I just…I think so highly of you. I- I think you are so smart and funny in this twisted way and you’re, I don’t know, you’re kind. Or at least I thought you were. I just didn’t think you thought so little of me.”

"I don’t think little of you, I swear, it’s just... I don’t know what I’m doing sometimes, okay? I say stupid things around you. Especially when I—" Ford’s chest tightens, panic setting in.

"When you’re what? Trying to be distant?" Ellie finally turns to face him, crossing her arms. "Because you’ve been doing a pretty great job of that lately."

Ford opens his mouth to reply but shuts it just as quickly, unsure of how to explain the mess of feelings in his head. The jealousy, the confusion, the frustration—it’s all bubbling to the surface now, but none of it makes sense in a way he can put into words.

She has absolutely flipped everything around in his mind. He’s never felt any of these feelings for someone and now he’s feeling them all at once. And it’s her, his roommate, his friend. Because she’s gorgeous and she’s one of the best people he’s ever met.

"I thought we were friends," Ellie says, her voice softer now, the hurt more apparent. "But if you think I’m just some spoiled rich girl, then maybe I was wrong."

"We are friends," Ford insists, stepping closer before he takes a seat on the floor beside her. "It’s not like that, I promise. I just... I’m an idiot sometimes, okay? I didn’t mean what I said."

Ellie stares at him for a long moment, like she’s trying to decide whether to believe him. The tension between them feels almost unbearable, and Ford is terrified that he’s ruined everything.

“I don’t know what I did to you to make you think all of that. I don’t look down on you. You have to look at this from my perspective, Ford. I…I brought you home to family for Thanksgiving. You played games with my brother and spent the whole week with me. I told you…something I haven’t told a lot of people. I’ve only told maybe three people about my mom. If I did something, I wish you could’ve told me.” Her voice breaks and he looks up from the floor to see her eyes watering and he suddenly feels everything in his body shifting.

His heart hurts and he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to fix this. It sounds horrible but she’s so carefree and off in her own world, he never thought he could affect her like this.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You didn’t do anything wrong, El, I just…really, I just say stupid things around you. I’m so sorry, I’m so incredibly sorry.” He doesn’t know what else to say without confessing everything. There’s a long silence, and then Ellie sighs, shaking her head.

"I don’t get you, Ford. One minute, you’re sweet, and the next, you’re pushing me away. I don’t know where I stand with you half the time." She sighs.

Ford clenches his fists at his sides, torn between the need to explain and the fear that if he lets her in any further, he won’t be able to keep his distance at all.

"I don’t do friends and I definitely don’t do friends like you. You’re so different than me and it’s daunting but it shouldn’t be. You have been…incredibly warm and fun to be around. Ellie, I- you are like being bathed in sunlight, you know that? You make every day better and I’m scared to get close to you and ruin that. You are the sun and the stars and everything good in this world. I don’t think I’ve ever been around someone so perfect.” He admits.

She leans forward to hug him, to hold him close to her. Everything in him melts for her. His heart pounds and flips as he lets himself just exist with her again. She pulls away the slightest bit and they’re face to face. All he can think and feel is that he wants to kiss her. He wants to feel her lips against his and lay her down and just kiss her and tell her everything.

She smells like heaven and Ford would happily die in her arms if it meant he could look into her eyes. She starts to lean in and he thinks she’s gonna do it but then she presses the softest and most intimate kiss on his cheek. It’s slow and makes him question everything.

Ford’s breath hitches, his mind swirling in a dizzying mix of desire and confusion. Her kiss on his cheek is so tender, so unlike anything he’s ever experienced, and yet it leaves him more undone than if she had kissed him on the lips. The softness of it, the way her lips linger for just a moment longer than expected—it’s intimate in a way that shakes him to his core.

It makes him want to forget about his studies and just spend the rest of college in her arms. To just kiss her. He’s completely still, frozen in the moment, his heart hammering against his ribs as if trying to break free. His hand, almost without thinking, lifts to touch the spot where her lips had just been, as if he needs to feel the warmth there to convince himself it really happened.

Ellie’s eyes meet his, and for a second, it feels like they’re suspended in time. He could lean in. He could close the gap. He could give in to everything his body is screaming for him to do. But something holds him back—some deep, gnawing fear that if he takes that step, everything between them will shatter. He knows he’s already teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something irreversible.

But his body is screaming for it. To lean into her and feel her in a way he never has. Ellie looks at him like she’s waiting for him to make a move, and he hates himself for hesitating. He hates that he’s too scared to risk everything for her, even though every fiber of his being is aching to just let go and pull her closer.

But he can’t. Not yet.

"Ellie, I—" He swallows hard, trying to keep his voice steady.

He doesn’t even know how to finish the sentence. What could he say that wouldn’t make this worse? He wants to tell her how much she means to him, how she’s everything he never knew he needed, but the words get tangled up in his throat.

Ellie watches him for a moment longer, her expression soft but filled with a sadness that cuts him to the bone. She pulls back fully, breaking the spell between them, and Ford instantly feels the loss of her warmth, like the sun disappearing behind a cloud.

“Goodnight, Ford,” She whispers, her voice barely audible, but it’s enough to send a sharp pang through his chest.

He nods, unable to trust his voice, and watches as she turns away, leaving him standing there in the quiet of her room, still feeling the ghost of her kiss on his cheek.

Chapter Text

“Ford!” Brighton cheers as he runs down the driveway.

“Brighton!” Ford decides to go along with it, cheering and beginning to run to him too. He absolutely wasn’t planning on doing it but Brighton seems so happy.

“I’m so glad you’re back.” Brighton hugs Ford as Ellie walks up with her arms crossed.

“Is your big sister dead to you?” She asks with a smile as he pulls away from Ford.

"Of course not!" He says, rushing over to hug her as well. "But Ford promised he’d teach me more Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons! I’ve been practicing! I even taught some of my friends at school.”

“Well, I’ll leave you two nerds to it after I introduce you to our other roommate! This is Fiddleford, he’s cooler than Ford.” She teases, pulling Fidds closer and jokingly nudging Ford.

“Hello there, little man.” Fiddleford holds out his hand to shake.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Brighton.” He smiles.

“Where’s dad?” Ellie asks.

“Last minute trip to Aruba with my mom.” He shrugs.

“Wait, so they aren’t even here?” She asks.

“They will be in a few days, just not now. Emma-May’s here though, she’s watching me. Kind of.” He shrugs.

“Okay, um, let’s go inside. You hungry, Bee?” She asks Brighton.

“Yeah!” He smiles.

“What are you hungry for? I can go pick it up and bring it back here.” She crouches down slightly to ask.

“Finn’s! That sandwich place down the street.” He tells her.

“I can go if you want to get everything settled here,” Ford offers. “If you trust me driving your car, that is.”

“Go ask Emma what she wants,” Ellie gently pushes Brighton to go before turning back to Ford. “I trust you driving my car more than I trust myself driving it.”

“Your house is huge, Ford should definitely go because I’m gonna get lost.” Fiddleford chuckles.

"Yeah, this place is a bit much sometimes, even for me," Ellie laughs, shaking her head before she pulls the car keys from her pocket and tosses them to Ford. "Alright, you’re on sandwich duty. Do you need a list? I’ll make you a list so you don’t forget what to order.”

“I don’t need a list, I’ll remember,” Ford tells her as she pulls a little pad and pen out of her bag.

“You’re gonna forget.” She tells him as she starts to write her order and Brighton’s.

“It’s like watching a married couple.” Fiddleford laughs.

“Yeah, except I get no tax benefits.” She hums and Ford’s cheeks go slightly pink.

She passes it to Fiddleford to write down what he wants and then he passes it to Ford. By then, Brighton comes running out with their cousin’s order. Ellie scribbles it down and rips the paper off before gently placing it on Ford’s hands. Fiddleford and Brighton begin to walk off with the bags but she pulls Ford closer by the sweater.

“Take care of my baby, okay? If she comes back totaled, you’re dead.” She tells him and he nods.

“I’ll be back soon.” He nods.

She turns back around to go with Fiddleford and Brighton as Ford opens the driver-side door. Showing Fidds around the house is pretty much the same as showing every other person. He’s shocked and he has a bigger room than he’s used to.

Things between Ellie and Ford have somewhat settled. It seems to him that she’s stopped overly trying to be his friend and has just been there and it makes him almost sad that she does that. But to her, she’s decided that she’s not gonna let him make her upset anymore. She’s gonna just exist and be her usual self and if Ford has a problem with that or starts bugging her about it, he can work out his own issues.

It’s strange how things have shifted. She can feel the distance between them, but at the same time, it feels easier. She’s decided she’s not going to force anything anymore—not her friendship, not her feelings, nothing. If Ford wants to keep his walls up, he can, but she’s not going to let it mess with her anymore.

Meanwhile, Ford grips the steering wheel a little too tightly as he drives, thoughts circling in his mind. He can’t shake the feeling that something’s changed between them, and it’s bothering him more than he’d like to admit. Ellie’s laughter, her teasing, it all feels less...directed at him. It’s as if she’s stopped trying so hard to bridge the gap he’s been so intent on keeping. And somehow, that makes him feel more alone than ever.

But he’s glad she doesn’t seem to hate him. He’s driving her car which is a step. Although, her parents are fine with him over while they’re gone which probably means they don’t see them together. As Ford pulls into the parking lot of Finn’s Sandwich Shop, he glances down at the crumpled paper in his hand. The list. Her handwriting is quick, a little messy but distinct. Just like her. He folds it carefully before getting out of the car, trying to shake off the strange weight in his chest.

He knows damn well that he needs the list and she was right. She’s always right. So much so that it’s frustrating. He’s so smart in school and he’s always ten steps ahead but Ellie is somehow always right. She picks up on things he doesn’t and she also knows what he needs better than he does.

Getting the sandwiches is quick. And for the first time in a long time, he feels like he’s coming home to Ellie. It feels nice. He likes going to her, wherever she is. And she, admittedly, likes being the one he comes to. She sits back lazily as she makes Brighton go ‘help’ Ford with the bags as if he needs it.

She had already set up everything outside to eat because of the nice summer day. Her cousin is out happily golfing as she takes a seat, Fiddleford joining her, when the sliding doors open again. Ford and Brighton step through and Ford tosses the keys back to Ellie.

Once all the sandwiches are passed out, everyone’s seated except for Ellie’s cousin. She gets up and tries to spot her and Fiddleford sighs.

“Cami hasn’t answered any of my calls, I think I’m done with dating for a while,” Fiddleford tells them.

“Come on, Fidds! You are like a rose,” Ellie places both of her hands on his shoulders. “And once you open, it is gonna be incredible. Trust me, this summer is gonna be amazing.”

“I don’t know, Ellie, I’m not exactly-“ He starts before she looks to the side and sees a girl walking by.

“Emma-May! Come here,” Ellie calls and the girl looks around for a moment before coming up. “Meet my roommate, Fiddleford McGucket! Fiddleford is an absolutely brilliant mechanic, tell her, Fidds. Also, your sandwich is here.”

“Oh! Um, it’s nothin’ serious, I’m just rolling along. I’m the first Mcgucket to go to college, you know.” He tells her.

“He’s hardworking and very single,” Ellie places a hand on Emma-May’s shoulder. “Emma-May is an aspiring actress. Tell him about that!”

“Maybe I should tell him about how your favorite pastime is trying to marry me off.” She crosses her arms with a small smirk.

“That’s funny. Ellie’s second favorite pastime is trying to marry ME off.” Fiddleford chuckles.

“I’m gonna lock you two in a room and wait for you to fall in love,” Ellie says so happily.

“Who’s this?” Emma-May gestures to Ford. “Your boyfriend?”

“No, this is our other roommate, Ford. But he’s too focused and dark and brooding to let me find him a girlfriend.” She leans down to make eye contact with him before standing back up.

"I don’t need you playing matchmaker for me," Ford jokingly rolls his eyes but can’t help the small smile that comes as Ellie teases him.

He looks down, focusing on unwrapping his sandwich as if the conversation doesn’t bother him. But something about her introducing him that way, as someone too closed-off to date, stings just a little. But he knows he’s done nothing to prove otherwise.

"You know, Ford, you could have your pick of anyone you wanted if you just stopped hiding away all the time." Ellie leans back into her seat, satisfied with the lighthearted chaos she’s stirred.

"Maybe I don’t want to have my pick," He says quietly, and for a brief moment, their eyes meet, and it feels like something is hanging in the air between them—something they’re both too afraid to acknowledge. But Ellie, ever quick to deflect, grins and turns back to Emma-May.

"Ford’s too much of a perfectionist to settle for anything less than his ideal," She teases, though there’s something wistful in her tone that Ford picks up on.

"Well, seems like you all have a nice setup here," Emma-May glances between the two of them, a knowing look in her eye, taking a seat next to Ellie. "Though I wouldn’t mind hearing more about this mechanic genius."

She shoots Fiddleford a playful look, and he blushes under the attention. As the conversation shifts, Ford remains quiet, lost in his thoughts. He watches Ellie from the corner of his eye—how effortlessly she engages with everyone around her, her laughter like a warm breeze that makes everyone feel at ease.

He knows he’s been keeping her at arm’s length, afraid of what getting too close might mean, but moments like this make him question whether that distance is worth it. Sometimes being around her in moments like this feels like there’s an open door where there previously wasn’t one. And all he wants to do is walkthrough.

As they finish their sandwiches, Ellie gets up and stretches, her eyes flicking to Ford with a dangerous look in her eyes.

"Come on, Ford. Let’s play golf again.”

Fiddleford and Emma-May are too deep in conversation, and Brighton has already run off to do something else. Ford surprises himself by standing up.

"I’ll try not to embarrass myself this time.” He smiles.

She begins to lead the way but Ford remembers where it is this time. They walk side by side in a comfortable silence. The sun isn’t harsh and the summer air is nice. When they get to the golf course, she immediately runs up and grabs the pink club she usually has, swinging it once before turning to face Ford.

“You know, golf is just a way to get people talking. No one actually cares about how well you play. Not here.” She tells him.

“Is that why you always insist we don’t keep score?” Ford raises an eyebrow, holding his own club loosely.

“Exactly. The conversations are what matter.” She shrugs, lining up her shot.

“Alright then, I know exactly what we should talk about.” Ford steps up beside her, leaning on his club.

She swings the club but completely misses the ball, and without missing a beat, she complains.

“It’s the wind.”

“Sure,” He nods as if it’s obvious. “Anyway, you will never believe who I saw at Finn’s.”

“Who?”

“Simon, Natalie, their families, and Natalie’s baby bump.” The gossiping tone in his voice almost makes her laugh.

“No!” She turns to face him with a wide grin.

“Yes! And guess what?”

“What?”

“He’s dropping out of school. They both are. He got a job at a record store in the mall not too far from here. She’s five months pregnant.” He tells her as he steps up to take his turn.

“Did you talk to them?” She asks.

“No, but they saw me. I waved and they both looked so embarrassed because their parents were both so loud, it’d be impossible not to overhear.” He says before taking a swing.

“I mean, of course, Natalie’s pregnant. I always knew that would happen sooner or later, but Simon dropping out of school? That’s...wow.” She shakes her head, still grinning.

“Right? I half-expected him to at least finish his degree, but I guess life had other plans,” Ford says, retrieving his ball after his swing. He glances at her, noticing the way she’s still processing it all. “Does it bother you?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m just...surprised. I mean, I thought he’d be somewhere else by now, not working in a mall record store,” Ellie pauses for a moment before answering, adjusting her grip on the club. “And I wasn’t praying on their downfall or anything but this is so karma. For the way Simon dumped me. For all the times he made me feel like I wasn’t enough, like I wasn’t serious enough. Now look at him. No degree, working in a mall record store, and expecting a baby. It’s not like I’m celebrating, but...it’s kind of satisfying to see things level out.”

Ford hums thoughtfully, watching her take a swing, and this time she hits the ball—though not far. She immediately blames the wind again with a playful roll of her eyes.

“It’s not like you needed karma to catch up with him. You were doing better anyway. Even before all of that.” He tells her.

“Yeah,” She smiles. “Better her than me, right? A baby right now, I couldn’t imagine. There’s so much left to do and so many things to see in this world and having a kid so soon pauses all of that. I’m only nineteen, she’s only nineteen. It’s just crazy to me.”

“I’m a year older than you and I think, as of right now, I’m the least ready person in the world to be a father. I accidentally leave the oven on every single time I use it.” Ford hums.

“I just…I don’t know, I’m meant for something more,” She swings again. “I’m not meant to just be someone’s mom or someone’s wife, at that.”

As Ellie swings again, they hear Brighton running up from the house, an excited grin on his face and something suspicious in his hands.

"Ellie! Look what I found in Dad's room!" Brighton holds up a handful of what appear to be small, colorful objects. "Water balloons! Let's throw one!"

Before Ellie can react, Brighton tosses one to the ground with a loud pop, revealing its true nature.

"Brighton!" Ellie’s eyes widen in horror as the unmistakable scent of cologne and something else fills the air. Her cheeks flush deep red as she realizes what Brighton just threw. "Oh my God, those aren’t water balloons! Those are…ew!"

“Wow, they were supposed to be really durable.” He frowns at the ‘balloon’ on the floor.

Ford freezes, eyes widening, equally taken aback by the scene. Ellie rushes forward, grabbing Brighton by the shoulders and steering him away.

"Okay! Ford! We’re going out tonight. Go get ready. Please. Now." She practically begs, her embarrassment palpable as she tries to control the situation.

"Yeah, I’ll, uh… I’ll just go. Get ready. Right now." Ford, still processing, nods quickly, trying not to laugh.

As he heads off toward the house, Ellie rubs her temples in frustration, her face still bright red. Brighton is still laughing loudly and runs back down the hill to where Fiddleford and Emma-May are.

“Who gave Bee condoms?” Emma-May asks as Ellie and Ford walk up.

“Why didn’t you take them from him?” Ellie asks.

“I wasn’t touching those things, who knows where he got them.” She shrugs.

“Whatever, we’re going out tonight. You guys coming?” Ellie sighs.

“I’m good.” Emma shakes her head.

“Yeah, me too.” Fiddleford leans to rest his chin on his hand as he looks at Emma-May.

Ellie walks away with a smile because of her cousin and her roommate. She secretly hopes and prays that nothing inappropriate occurs in her childhood home. Ford goes into his room to get ready and she does too, trying to hurry because she usually takes a while. She’s mostly ready but she changes her clothes.

She puts on this white flowy shirt with a brown vest and jeans and lets her hair go wild. When she comes out of her room, Ford looks the same as he usually does. Handsome. They decide that he’s gonna drive again because she doesn’t like driving at night. She helps by giving him directions on where to go.

The bright city lights almost make her want to tell him to pull over just to look. They cruise down the Sunset Strip until they park near the Whisky-a-Go-Go. He’s curious about what she’s gonna do considering they’re both underage. But she holds onto his arm and begins to pull him to the back of the building.

“Where are we going?” He asks.

“One of the bartenders leaves the back open for me. I’ve been coming here like every other night since I was like fifteen.” She tells him.

“Fifteen?” He gasps as she continues dragging him inside.

He immediately kind of hates it. It smells like smoke and sweat and alcohol. The music is blaring because of some band on the big stage. This place seems like the opposite of her. She’s so clean and nice and put together, on the outside, at least. But this place? It’s messy and ten times more wild than she usually is.

And yet something about it and her kind of makes sense. Ellie is unpredictable and constantly finds new ways to surprise Ford.

“This place is...intense,” Ford mutters, his voice barely cutting through the music. Ellie just grins, her eyes sparkling under the flickering lights.

“That’s the fun of it, Ford! You gotta let loose. You need a break from just being the smartest person in the room and let yourself be a twenty-year-old guy. Be a douchebag, go tell a girl she’s pretty and buy her a drink, do some coke, I don’t know.” She pulls him closer, her energy infectious.

“I don’t think I’m gonna do all that.” He chuckles as they settle at a table closer to the back.

“Go buy this girl a drink then, something with tequila.” She gestures to herself before gently placing her card in Ford’s hand.

“No, it’s okay, I’ve got it.” He pushes it back but she shakes her head.

“It’s my dad’s card. Take it.” She giggles and he nods turning to walk away before immediately turning back to her.

“What should I drink? I don’t drink often enough to know.” He asks.

“You could always just be basic and get a beer.” She shrugs and he nods again.

She waits for him at the table, sighing as he goes to the bar. He’s cute. A part of her still wonders what it’d be like to be his, to be with him. She knows it’s impossible but it’s not a bad thought. Ellie knows herself and how she’s perceived well enough to know that people don’t think much of her. She can kiss people in bars and dance and laugh and sing and that’s just who she is.

So, that open door? A part of her wants to walk through it. But she waits and decides to watch the band. She stands up to try and see as things get crazy near the front of the stage.

Ford comes back with their drinks as she’s still trying to look. She takes a big swig and enjoys it as Ford takes a smaller sip of a beer.

“Isn’t this band great?” She asks, wrapping one arm around him as she puts a knee on the chair to lift herself to his height.

“Yeah, it’s- um, I love it.” He clears his throat nervously, his hand hovering above her waist before he slowly places it down.

“They’re gonna be big soon, I know it.” She leans into him closer to speak so she doesn’t have to yell as loud.

She lightly sways as she listens before looking back to Ford. He looks at her too. Ford tries to focus on the music, but his attention is fully on her—the way she sways, the faint smell of smoke mixed with perfume, and the closeness of her body against his. She turns to look at him, and for a moment, he feels like they’re the only two people in the room.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Y-yes, I’m fine.” He nods. She still looks at him as she places a hand on his shoulder, pulling him to her.

Everything feels hazy for him as she pulls Ford into her. He feels her body against his and his cheeks warm. Her eyes search his for a moment and all he can do is watch what happens.

“Please.” He accidentally whispers, his voice sounding more desperate than he’s ever heard it.

He doesn’t know why he does it. It’s a level of desperation that he’s never reached before. All she knows is that she’s looking at him in this perfect way and all of his senses are overtaken by her and that he wants to kiss her so badly.

She cups the back of his neck, pulling him toward her. Their lips meet, and Ford forgets everything. The noise, the logic, the questions—all disappear as he sinks into the moment. Her arms wrap around his neck to pull him even closer. She tastes like strawberries and tequila, the taste of her lips being absolutely addicting.

Ford leans into her completely with his hands still on her waist before her hand creeps up the back of his neck to push her fingers through his hair. Everything in him weakens at her touch. She’s warm and wonderful and no one has ever kissed him like this before.

She pulls away, still being so gentle with her hands. She pushes the hair out of his face with a smile.

“You needed to loosen up.” She giggles, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

He’s still in a haze as she talks to him. He can still feel the warmth of her lips and how perfect she felt on him. Ford isn’t the type of person who does this a lot, he doesn’t just kiss girls in bars. Especially not his roommate, the one he’s been fighting off his attraction for.

For months, he’s been trying not to just kiss her or tell her that he feels like he can’t breathe when she’s looking at him. Her skin is so soft and her lips are quite possibly the most incredible thing he’s ever felt. And yet here she is, laughing and smiling right after saying he needed to loosen up.

She’s laughing and smiling as if she didn’t just flip his world on its axis. From the second he saw her, he liked her. He thought she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. But he excused it with science, blaming it on pheromones or some primal urge in him that makes him want to put his babies in her. He doesn’t bother with crushes or love anymore because it’s pointless so he puts the thought in the back of his mind.

But he’s burning up around her and he feels like if he doesn’t feel her lips again like that, he’s gonna explode.

She turns back to watch the band as if nothing has changed but it’s like she can still feel him. The way he asked her to kiss him, the way he melted into her, everything was swirling around in her mind. He wasn’t distant, wasn’t distracted. He was fully present.

Her gaze falls on Ford again, his hand still hovers near his beer like he’s forgotten it’s there. Her heart races. She’s kissed people before, but none of those moments ever felt like this—like the world shrank to just them.

For months, she’s wondered. There were moments when Ford would look at her, and she’d catch something—just a flash of something deeper in his eyes. But he’d always retreat into his shell, deflect, or offer some distant comment that made her feel like she was imagining things. And maybe she was, or maybe she wasn’t. But now there’s no pretending. That kiss was real. The way he pulled her closer, the way his hands gripped her waist—it wasn’t a simple kiss.

And it’s written all over his face that it was not a simple kiss for him either. But what’s he supposed to do? What’s she supposed to do? Her instincts tell her to just grab him and pull him back into her. To toss her arms around him and kiss him like there’s never been anyone else. And he’s been such a dick for months but if it was because of this? She’d be able to forget about that if it meant she could feel his arms around her like that again with his strong and warm hands.

Instead of doing anything about it, she keeps drinking and Ford pretends to drink his beer every once in a while.

The ride home is uncharacteristically quiet. He turns to her every once in a while and she seems completely up in the air. She’s mostly leaned out the window and it pulls his heart as he looks at her. Everything’s building up for her so quickly and it feels like he’s about to confess it all and tell Ellie that he needs her more than he’s ever needed anything or anyone.

His knuckles turn white on the steering wheel as he grips it hard. He can’t stop replaying it over and over again, like it’s been burned into his mind. The feel of her lips, the way she pulled him into her, the warmth of her body pressing against his—it’s driving him insane. How does she manage to be so carefree when he’s barely holding it together?

She says goodnight as she shuts the door to her room, expecting him to go into his. He runs down the hallway to Fiddleford’s door before practically banging it down. He needs to talk to someone. He can’t handle this alone.

“Fidds! Are you awake?”

There’s a long pause, then a shuffling sound from the other side of the door before it creaks open, revealing Fiddleford. His hair is disheveled and… is that lipstick smeared on his face? Ford blinks, momentarily thrown off. Fiddleford leans against the doorframe, looking both exasperated and amused.

“What do you want?” He breathes out.

“I—" Ford hesitates, his hands gesturing wildly as he tries to gather his thoughts. “I kissed Ellie tonight. Or I guess she kissed me.”

“You did what now?” Fiddleford raises an eyebrow, clearly more interested now despite his initial annoyance.

“It just happened!” Ford blurts out, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “We were at this bar, and one minute we’re talking, and then the next—” He stops, his words catching in his throat as he replays the moment again. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know, be normal and move on?” Fiddleford suggests.

“No, man, you don’t get it. She kissed mekissed me. She had her arms around my neck and she pulled me in and she was…she was so warm and she tasted like strawberries and tequila and her hand crept up my neck and went through my hair and…fuck,” Ford breathes out. “It wasn’t just a kiss to me, it made my heart do a fucking- I don’t know but I just…I can’t just get over this, not this time.”

“But why are ya tellin’ me this right now? I’m kinda…occupied. So, you like her, it was obvious. But what do you want me to tell you when I could be back in there…uninterrupted.” Fiddleford mutters, half under his breath, clearly exhausted but not wanting to escalate Ford’s freakout.

Ford’s eyes widen as he finally processes Fiddleford’s appearance—the messy hair, the lipstick—and then the realization hits him.

“Wait…were you—”

“Yep,” Fiddleford cuts him off, pushing a hand through his hair in frustration. “So unless you want to start complainin’ to Emma-May, I suggest you let me get back to…well, not this conversation.”

“I’m gonna go scream in a jar,” Ford says before he begins to quickly walk back to his guest room.

He shuts his door behind him and practically starts throwing a tantrum like a toddler who can’t regulate his emotions. All he wants to do in this moment is talk to Stan. He’d give anything to just call his brother right now and tell him that he just kissed the girl of his dreams and ask for help on what to do now.

Chapter Text

"Ford, please." Fiddleford practically begs.

"No, I'm not doing it, it's embarrassing." Ford shakes his head.

"I'd do it for you! In fact, I will... kind of.
Grab another box, on me." Fiddleford gestures.

"I'm gonna look crazy buying two boxes of condoms." Ford laughs.

"I only had one single condom left in my wallet, plus, it won't look weird if we buy other stuff too. Where's Ellie?" He asks.

"I don't know." Ford shrugs, looking around before she comes happily walking into the aisle.

"I have Ellie-beans!" She lifts up two bags as she smiles at Ford before meeting them.

"What are you guys doing?"
Ford immediately stiffens, glancing over at Fiddleford, trying to will him to say nothing. Fiddleford, however, panics.

"Uh-uh—they're Ford's!" He blurts out, thrusting the box of condoms forward without thinking. Ford feels like the ground is about to swallow him whole.

"What?! No!" His face turns a deep shade of red, eyes wide with horror as he looks at Ellie. "They're not mine, they're-"

"They're totally his!" Fiddleford cuts in again, still flustered and sweating as he digs himself and Ford—into a deeper hole. "He, uh, he really needs them."

"Oh," She says in an unreadable tone. "Um, good for you, Ford. Very responsible."

"They are not mine!" He raises his voice. "I haven't had sex in a year, l'm not starting now in your family home."

"Are you?" She gasps, turning to Fiddleford.

"No! No, I'm not. But we should probably have some for the house when we go home just in case. To be responsible, like you said." He tells her.

Ellie stands there, blinking, the bags of jelly beans in her hands feeling oddly heavy as the tension builds around them. She opens her mouth to respond but pauses, looking between the two of them with raised eyebrows.

"I mean, I don't know if you guys have noticed but I can't wear a condom. I'm gonna go get a coke," She goes to turn around but Ford holds onto her sleeve.

"Ford, what?"

"They are not mine," He looks into her eyes to tell her that he's not expecting anything from her because they kissed.
And he's also not expecting something from anything else. "Especially not because of last n-"

"Coke, I need coke, I'm getting a migraine." She turns around quickly and begins to walk away.

"What is your problem? You just made things so much worse." Ford tells Fiddleford.

"I was just trying to, uh, help?" He says weakly, clearly regretting every word he's spoken in the past minute.

"How do you think that just looked for her? We kiss and then the next morning I'm buying two boxes of condoms." Ford complains.

"Okay, okay, in hindsight, maybe it wasn't the best idea to, uh, panic and throw you under the bus like that, but come on, Ford. What do you expect? You've been all weird since last night. I didn't know what else to say." Fiddleford winces at Ford's words, running a hand nervously through his hair.

"The last thing I needed was to look like some creep buying condoms right after we kissed. She's probably thinking I had all kinds of plans for today. And now she's off getting a coke, thinking I'm- I don't know- some guy expecting something out of her." Ford groans, rubbing his temples.

"Well, what did you expect, Ford? You kiss her one minute, and now you're both walking around like something's changed, but you haven't talked about it. I just...I didn't know what to say." Fiddleford shifts uncomfortably. Ford shakes his head, looking down the aisle where Ellie disappeared.

"She's not like that, Fiddleford. I didn't want her to think that kiss meant I'm—" He hesitates, his voice dropping to a quieter tone, "I'm trying to push her into something. It was a mistake. I shouldn't have let that happen."

"Really? A mistake? I've heard how you talk about that kiss, Ford, and you gave me the details. You weren't exactly running away." Fiddleford raises an eyebrow.

Ford opens his mouth to retort, but the words get stuck in his throat. He knows Fiddleford is right, but admitting it feels like crossing a line he's not ready to face.

"It's complicated, okay? Ellie and I-there's too much going on to make this any more...complicated." He sighs.

"Look, man, maybe you should just talk to her instead of assuming how she feels. You know, before you dig yourself into an even deeper hole." Fiddleford sighs, patting Ford's shoulder in an attempt at comfort.

Ford grumbles under his breath, grabbing the two boxes of condoms and shoving them back onto the shelf.

"Yeah, thanks for the advice, Fidds."

"I still need those though." He grabs the boxes and puts them in the basket.

As they stand there in awkward silence, Ellie's voice cuts through as she returns, coke in hand, her face looking slightly calmer but still guarded.

"Got the coke. Everything okay over here?" She asks.

"Can you buy these for me?" Fiddleford asks her, tossing all fear away.

"No." She shakes her head with a small laugh.

"Yeah. Everything's fine." Ford glances at her, his heart beating faster than he'd like.

She gives him a long look, not quite believing him, but she doesn't press further.

"Good," She says softly, playing with the top of the can. "Let's just get what we need and go home, okay?"

Ford nods, watching her walk ahead of them down the aisle, still feeling the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on him. He then decides to catch up with her as she now has the basket.

"I told you, not mine." He hums as Ellie raises an eyebrow, giving him a sideways glance.

"Uh-huh," She says, her tone dripping with playful skepticism. "Sure, Ford. You just happened to be holding two boxes of condoms for no reason at all. Very believable."

"Fiddleford was the one who needed them. You heard him. I'm just a good friend helping out." He smirks, leaning in just slightly. Ellie giggles, shaking her head and he can't help the way his heart pulls.

"Yeah, a 'good friend' who blushes like a tomato and nearly choked when I walked over," She swings the basket lightly, giving him a mischievous grin. "Very convincing."

"I was choking—on embarrassment, thanks to Fiddleford. Not exactly my finest moment." Ford groans dramatically, putting a hand on his forehead.

"You don't say," Ellie teases, putting her coke in the basket. "I mean, you practically turned into a human stoplight back there. Red doesn't even begin to cover it."

"You could've saved me by playing along." He says playfully and it makes her smile wider.

"Oh no, you were on your own for that one. It was way too entertaining watching you squirm." She tilts her head.

"Remind me never to count on you in a crisis." Ford laughs, shaking his head as they reach the checkout counter.

"You got it," She winks, placing the basket on the conveyor belt. "But you should know, you're kinda cute when you're panicking."

Ford's grin falters for just a second as her words sink in. He glances at her, the playful energy between them suddenly charged with something else. Ellie catches his look and, for a brief moment, they both stand there, caught in the space between teasing and something deeper.

"Come on, we should probably go before Fidds blames more stuff on you." She smiles.

Ford jokingly rolls his eyes with a laugh as he follows her. He feels lost around her because they barely spoke in the car on the way here and she's smiling and laughing with him again like nothing's changed but it's obvious something changed.

Fiddleford ends up checking out on his own because of his situation. The walk back to the car is quiet but not awkward. Ford stays lost in his mind the whole way. He opens the car door for her, a small, nervous gesture. Ellie pauses, catching his eye before sliding into the passenger seat. She gives him a soft smile and for a moment Ford forgets how to breathe. It's such a simple look, but it's enough to make him think.

He comes back around to get into his seat and turns the car on as Fiddleford gets settled in the back. Ellie picks her feet up on the seat as she rolls down and looks out the window. She looks practically ethereal with the sun lighting up her hair and perfectly browning her skin. She looks like summer.

He grips the steering wheel tighter, feeling that familiar pull toward her that he's tried so hard to fight off for months. But with every stolen glance, every shared laugh, it's getting harder and harder to pretend like he's not completely captivated by her. He's tried to blame it on everything else— her charm, her carefree nature, even biology—but none of that explains the way his heart picks up speed when she looks at him like that.

Not when he's tried so desperately to stay focused on school. But it's summer now. And he's driving her car and staying at her parents' house, how else should he feel? He drives her home and Fiddleford is smiling in the back for a reason that makes Ford want to laugh. He wonders if Fiddleford would've told him if he hadn't accidentally interrupted but he hopes so. He tells Fiddleford a lot and would feel bad if he couldn't tell Ford important things.

He continues sneaking glances at her all the way back home. When they get there, Fiddleford disappears into the guest room leaving Ellie and Ford alone in the kitchen. She offers to make something for lunch because Ford can't live off of just jelly beans to which he argues that he definitely could. IF necessary, obviously.

They end up sitting side by side at the table with their knees touching. He's not sure if it's because she made them and she makes his heart flutter or if they're actually good but he swears that hers is the best grilled cheese he's ever had.
It's silence as they both finish their sandwiches and he somehow gains courage again.

"Ellie?" Ford clears his throat.

"Yeah?" She hums.

"About last night-"

"Bee! Come show Ford your DD&MD things! I'll make you a grilled cheese." She calls out to him in the living room.

His words die in his throat as she stands up. She's good at this-steering conversations away from anything serious, especially when it involves feelings. It's both frustrating and, in a strange way, comforting.

Before he can process anything else, Brighton runs in with a bunch of papers and other things to show Ford. Ellie busies herself making him a grilled cheese and Ford is left wondering why things can't ever just be simple.
He can't be upset at her but he just needs to settle this. He's frustrated because she's made his mind run even further. And now even further because of her avoiding it.

And yet she does it in a way that makes it seem like she doesn't care but if she really didn't care, she'd tell him it was nothing. And these thoughts drive him crazy. He lets himself get distracted for a moment, listening to Brighton's ideas. Ellie comes and sits back down when she's done with his sandwich. She leans her head on her hand, her elbow resting on the table. He catches her smiling at them and it makes his heart pull again. That look in her eyes could kill him.

"Oh, no, don't get him into all that nerd crap," Emma-may comes into the kitchen after an hour upstairs and Ford wants to laugh but holds it in. "I'm taking him to a sleepover in an hour and I can't be in the car hearing about dragons and gargoyles and-"

"But it's fun!" Brighton tries.

"Yeah, it's fun." Ford agrees.

"Exactly! It's strategy, adventure...you might even like it if you gave it a try." Brighton stands up.

Ellie chuckles softly at the table, her fingers lazily twirling a strand of hair. The sound sends a ripple through Ford's chest, making him feel like he's on the edge of something. He risks another glance at her, and sure enough, she's watching him with that same soft smile that makes everything inside him want to unravel. She nervously turns back to Emma-May.

"No way, not happening. You boys are on your own with that stuff." She shakes her head.

"You're missing out, Em," Ellie teases, her voice light as she stirs her drink. "Besides, Ford's pretty good at explaining the rules."

"Oh, not you too." Ellie's cousin jokingly sighs.

Ford's gaze darts back to Ellie, catching the playful sparkle in her eyes. For a second, he forgets about his frustration. She's playing along again, effortlessly keeping things in the realm of casual, as if the tension between them doesn't exist. As if everything is perfectly fine. But it's not fine. It's never fine. Not with her.

After Emma-May whisks Brighton away, leaving just Ford and Ellie alone again in the kitchen, he feels the weight return, pressing heavier with each second of silence that passes. Ellie stretches out in her chair, still acting like there's no reason to bring up the mess of feelings brewing between them. She knows. She has to know. Ford clears his throat, trying again.

"Ellie," He begins, his voice more serious this time, "Can we talk about what's really going on?"

"Do you think they miss me out here?" She asks, not answering his question.

"I-"

"I hope they do. Not in a mean way but I hope they miss me." She muses and it seems more like she's talking to herself.
Ford blinks, momentarily thrown off by her response. He watches as Ellie absentmindedly traces patterns on the table, lost in her own world. For a second, it's like she's somewhere else entirely, and he feels that familiar pang of frustration mixed with something softer-something more painful.

"Ellie," He tries again, gentler this time,
"What are you talking about?"

"I wonder if they talk about me and know that I'm gonna do something great. I'm not just gonna be like everyone else here, I'm not gonna marry a rich man and let him control my life. I'm gonna do something better than that. And I hope they'll miss me. I hope they miss me now." She shrugs.

"Of course they miss you," He says, his tone soft but firm. "How could they not?"

"We should go to the beach. Before it gets dark, we should go," She hums, standing up. “I’m gonna go.”

He doesn't know what to do at first but he follows her. She goes into her room to get ready and he goes to his. It's like his body is on autopilot at her request. He just gets ready to go to the beach. The sun hasn't begun to set yet but it should soon. He paces outside of her door when he's ready. She comes out with this pink bikini with matching sunglasses that make him smile.

Of course, Ellie would be the girl to have sunglasses that match her swimsuit. She has a towel in her hand that she's shoving into a bag as she looks at him. The beach is walking distance from her house.

She's conflicted and seeing him shirtless outside of her room doesn't help. Her strappy sandals make noise as she leads the way down the stairs. He's cute and he's nice and he's funny and he doesn't want her. Not really. He kissed her back but that doesn't mean anything. All it means is that it was just a fun night.

And now he keeps trying to talk about it and it's freaking her out. What is he gonna say? She doesn't want to know. She's scared he's gonna say he's not interested in her and attempt to let her down easily in an embarrassing way. No one has ever let her down easy in that sense.

As they head down the stairs and out the door, the wind lightly pushes her hair back. She doesn't know what to do with her hands or any part of herself. She feels too far from him. She moves closer and loops her arm through his and notices the way his cheeks go pink. And her thoughts are focused again on how cute he is.

The walk is less than five minutes before they're on the sand. Ellie feels her heart racing as they get closer to the water. She doesn't want to talk about that night—not because it didn't matter, but because it did. And that terrifies her. She glances at him out of the corner of her eye, catching the way he keeps trying to look at her without being obvious. It's endearing in a way that makes her stomach flip, but she forces herself to ignore it.

When they finally reach the beach, she drops her bag and spreads out her towel. The sun is sinking lower now, casting a golden glow over the sand and waves. She takes a deep breath, trying to focus on the beauty of the moment instead of the storm brewing inside her.

Ford hesitates for a moment, then sits down beside her on the towel. He opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off before he can start.

"Let's just enjoy this, okay?" She says softly, her voice almost pleading. "No more talking."

He closes his mouth, nodding. He knows she's avoiding the real conversation, but for now, he lets it go. They sit in silence, watching the sun dip lower toward the horizon, both lost in their own thoughts.

She lies back, her sunglasses perched on her nose. She looks so beautiful in the sun in a way he's never noticed in another person. She looks up at Ford as he turns to look at the water. The waves crash in a peaceful sound and he looks relaxed.

His features soften in this moment and he looks perfect. He's warm and he has this small smile on that takes her heart away. She gets comfier and leans further down to rest her head on his lap. He's unsure of what to do at first.

Ford can't help but smile, resting his hand gently on the top of her head, fingers lightly brushing through her hair. It feels natural in a way that makes him almost forget the confusion of the past few days. Her laugh rings out over something small, and for a moment, he thinks about how he could stay like this forever- just the two of them, laughing in the summer sun.

He realizes that he could be in love with her- falling in love with her. And he wouldn't hate it if it meant that he could spend moments like this. He realizes that maybe he can be in love with her and just never tell her instead of running from these feelings. He'll still feel them, she just won't know. She can't know. Because she doesn't feel the same at all.

Just as he's starting to get used to this moment, a group of people come walking down the sand. But then, from the corner of his eye, he spots Simon and Natalie walking down the beach, hand in hand. Simon's jaw tightens as he catches sight of Ford and Ellie. Natalie's gaze shifts between them, lingering for just a moment too long, her smile fading into something more controlled. Ford stiffens slightly, his hand freezing in Ellie's hair.

Ellie doesn't notice at first, still lying back, but Ford can't shake the feeling of Simon's eyes on them. Natalie whispers something to Simon, and though she tries to hide it, there's a flicker of something-jealousy, maybe?-crossing her face.

"Hey, that felt good, what happened?" She giggles softly, holding her hand over his that rests in her hair. Ford's heart skips a beat, but before he can respond, Natalie's voice rings out.

"Well, isn't this cozy," She says with a bright, practiced smile, though her tone is anything but. Simon lingers beside her, his eyes narrowed as he takes in the scene.

Ford's hand is still frozen in Ellie's hair as he shifts uncomfortably, meeting Natalie's gaze. He can see the flicker of something deeper-jealousy, frustration, maybe even regret-behind her smile.

Ellie finally catches on, her laughter fading as she turns her head just enough to see Simon and Natalie standing there.

For a split second, her expression falters, but she quickly masks it with the same practiced indifference she's perfected over the years. She shifts slightly, her eyes look sadder and she wraps her arms around herself and Ford's heart pulls towards her. And in this moment, he hopes she knows that she's beautiful. That she's the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. There are people out there that love her, including Ford.

"Simon, Natalie," She says, her voice airy but tight. "Didn't expect to see you here. It seems like you guys are constantly lurking."

"We're just taking some family pictures. You know, before the baby comes." Natalie replies, gesturing toward the small group and placing a hand on her belly, following behind, a camera slung over Simon's mom's shoulder. "Thought it'd be nice, you know, to capture the moment."

Simon's mom, now standing beside them, gives a smile—warmer than her son's, but still with that sharpness lingering beneath.

"Oh, Ellie! I didn't see you down here." She arches a brow, her eyes flicking between the group

Ellie, still resting in Ford's lap, doesn't move, though Ford can feel her tense slightly. She shoots a glance at him, but he's too busy trying to figure out what to say, his mouth dry.

"Glad to see you're doing well, though," Simon's mom continues, her smile tightening in a way that makes Ford's stomach turn. "You and this young man here make a cute couple. Honestly, I think you're better off. Don't you agree, Simon?"

"Yeah, sure. Looks like you've moved on just fine." Simon shifts uncomfortably, jaw clenched as he forces a nod.

"Be ready in five, okay, baby?" She places a hand on Simon's arm before walking off.

"I didn't think you two would last this long." Natalie hums.

"I could say the same about you two," Ford clears his throat. "But really, we're wishing you two the best. Having a baby at our age...wow."

"Congratulations, by the way. I don't know how you're gonna do it. Ford and I are always so wrapped up in each other, it'd be hard to make time for a whole other person." Ellie smiles in an almost cruel way.

She gives Ford's leg a light, teasing pat, but her words carry a subtle sting. His heart begins to race under her touch but he keeps calm.

"It's...not easy, but we're managing."
Simon shifts again, his jaw clenching as he forces a strained smile.

Natalie's face darkens slightly, her hand resting protectively over her belly, but her eyes linger on Ellie and Ford, who sit so comfortably together. The intimacy of their moment—Ellie's head resting in Ford's lap, his hand still lightly brushing through her hair—feels almost too much for Natalie to ignore. There's a flicker of jealousy in her expression, one she can't quite mask.

Ford notices it too, though he keeps quiet. He doesn't miss the way Natalie's gaze lingers, or the way Simon's eyes narrow slightly as he watches them. It's like they're seeing a version of themselves they no longer get to have two young people, able to do whatever they want, whenever they want. Able to laugh and touch and stay out late without the weight of responsibility looming over them. It's a stark contrast to the life they're now facing.
Natalie shifts, glancing down at her belly.

"Yeah, well," She murmurs, her voice quieter now, "Things change when you're about to have a baby. You don't really get to do... this kind of thing anymore."

Her eyes briefly meet Simon's, a flash of something unspoken passing between them- regret, perhaps, or at least a longing for the kind of freedom they used to have.

"You have to grow up fast."

Ellie's eyes harden slightly, but she doesn't respond immediately. Instead, she leans back further into Ford, feeling his warmth against her.

"Maybe," She says, her voice soft but laced with something deeper, "But I guess we'll take our time growing up. There's no rush."

Simon's jaw clenches tighter, and Ford can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on them. He knows Natalie's right— everything changes when you're about to have a kid. And maybe Simon and Natalie didn't mean for it to happen so soon. But here they are, watching Ford and Ellie enjoy the kind of carefree intimacy they used to have before responsibility took over.

"Yeah," Simon finally mutters, his voice flat. "No rush."

As they walk away, the tension slowly lifts, but it leaves something behind. Ford looks down at Ellie, still nestled in his lap, and wonders if she realizes just how much they stand to lose if they keep running from whatever this is between them.

"You're warm." She says softly and quietly as she looks up at him.

He smiles at her and she feels everything bubbling up again. Like she wants this with him, she wants the lie that Natalie and Simon know to be true. She sits up and quickly begins to pack up some of the stuff and she turns to Ford.

"It's getting dark, we should go." She makes an excuse.

"Oh, um, okay." He agrees.

The walk home is quiet. The house is quiet too now that Brighton's gone. The good news is, Emma-May's room is across the house so they can't hear anything. Ellie locks herself away as soon as they get upstairs and Ford is left mindlessly back into his room.

He puts on his pajamas since he didn't get in the water and was only outside for maybe fifteen minutes. Ellie does the same in her room, putting on a classic pink nightgown but not yet putting her hair up for the night. She paces back and forth as she tries to make sense of her night.

The quiet of the house makes her feel restless. Her mind is a mess of conflicting thoughts-Ford's touch, Simon's jealousy, and Natalie's smugness. And then, more than anything, the warmth she felt lying in Ford's lap, how safe and comfortable it had been.

She runs her fingers through her hair, feeling like she's teetering on the edge of something she can't quite name.
Being with him like that always makes her feel safe and it doesn't make sense. He hasn't done a lot to make her feel that way but she does. When she was in Ford's lap with his hands in her hair, she felt safe, truly safe. Like nothing could touch her or hurt her because her heart was safe with Ford.

On the other side of the wall, Ford lies back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His mind replays the afternoon over and over again—Ellie's head on his lap, her laughter, the way she looked at him. For a moment, he had allowed himself to think it could be something more, that maybe she felt the same. But then she'd pulled away, shut down. Almost like how he usually does.

He tells himself it's for the best, that he shouldn't want this—want her. But he does. He wants her so much it scares him. He wants to spend time with her like that and hold her and kiss her and he likes having his hands in her hair like that.

His heart races as he remembers how close she was, how the sun had made her look even more radiant. She looked utterly dream-like. He'd been so lost in the moment, he almost forgot about Simon and Natalie. But the way they looked at him and Ellie-it was like they saw something he hadn't fully realized yet. They weren't just jealous of their freedom. They were jealous of what Ford and Ellie had—or at least, what they seemed to have.

And maybe they were right. Maybe Ford and Ellie did have something.
He sits up abruptly, feeling restless. His thoughts are running wild now, spinning out of control. Maybe he should go to her, see if she's okay. But no- what if she doesn't want to talk? What if she doesn't feel the same? He groans softly, running his hands through his hair. He's overthinking everything, but he can't stop himself.

Ellie, on the other hand, feels like she's unraveling. The thought of him is too much, but the idea of him not being there is even worse. She keeps replaying the moment on the beach—the way he'd looked at her, the softness in his touch. And she can't help but wonder if maybe she's been wrong.
Maybe he does feel something for her, something real. But what if he doesn't? What if she makes a fool of herself? The thought terrifies her, but the pull toward him is stronger.

Ford's feet are moving before he even realizes what he's doing. He stands in front of her door, hand hovering over the wood, heart pounding in his chest.
At the same time, Ellie is pacing her own room, running through the same thoughts. She can't just sit here. She needs to see him, talk to him, do something. Before she knows it, she's standing in front of her own door, hand poised to open it. Her breath catches in his throat.

And then, almost like fate, the door creaks open, and Ford is standing right there in front of her, his hair loose, her pink nightgown softly flowing around her. For a second, neither of them move. They just stare at each other, wide-eyed, the air between them thick with everything they've been holding back.

"What are we doing? I mean, y- you kiss me at the Whisky and you act like we're nothing and we never speak about it again. You smile and laugh and you hold onto my arms and kiss my cheeks and put your legs and your head in my lap, I can't take it anymore. I feel like I'm constantly burning up for you, like I need this on another level that I can't understand." He breathes out.

"Ford, I-" She starts but she can't finish her sentence before his lips are on hers.

He holds onto her waist and kisses her more intensely than he has ever kissed anyone. She pulls away with her arms around his neck and their chests pressed together as she looks at him. Before either can say anything, she pulls him into the room, shutting the door and quickly locking it.

They begin to move backwards, his hands desperately holding onto her as if she could slip away at any moment. She drags her lips down to his jaw and he feels everything in him weaken.

"Ellie, shit." He breathes out as she's suddenly against the wall.

"I'm so..." She shakes her head as she reaches for the hem of his shirt and he helps her pull it off.

"Oh, Ellie," He practically whimpers as he brings his lips to her neck. "I want this, I think I need it."

Her fingers thread through his hair as his lips travel all over her neck. The floodgates open, and the kiss deepens, all the tension of the night pouring out in a rush. It's desperate and sweet all at once as if they've both been waiting for this moment longer than they even realized.

Ford's arms wrap around her, pulling her closer, and Ellie feels like she's melting into him, like everything finally makes sense. The kiss is everything she's been afraid to admit she wanted—and more. And for the first time, she doesn't want to run. She just wants to stay right here, with him.

"Get on my bed." She whispers against his lips as she pushes his chest lightly in that direction.

Everything in his body shakes for her as he sits on her bed. He sits against the headboard and she comes around to him. She places one knee on the bed and lifts herself to straddle him. Her arms instantly wrap around his neck and she leans in to kiss him again.

Her lips are warm and she feels perfect on him. He doesn't know what to do with his hands or even how to act right now, all he can think about is how good her lips feel. They're soft and warm and feel like the only ones he'll ever want to kiss.

His hands gently and carefully find her waist, resting there as she kisses him so perfectly. His hands slowly fall to her hips, leaning back because of the feeling relaxing his bones.

"You're so pretty." He breathes out as she brings her lips to his jaw.

"Thank you." She gives a small laugh between kisses, her hips accidentally shifting as she leans back and he tries to hold back from making a sound.

He looks at her with stars in his eyes as she pulls away to look at him. His breath hitches from the feeling of her hips rolling on his. She cups his face in her hands, pressing quick kisses all over his face as he tries to ignore the tight feeling in his pants. She can feel it and it immediately sets her into gear.

She runs one hand up his bare chest before leaning back again. No one has ever looked at her the way he's looking at her right now. He presses a kiss to her shoulder as she reaches to pull the nightgown up and over her head. He watches her in awe, her now in just her underwear, having had no bra on.

She looks beautiful and heat rises up from his neck to his cheeks. His mouth is slightly open, his body full of desire as she holds back onto his neck and his lips find hers like magnets. He feels her bare chest against his and he feels like his breath has been taken away. As for her, his chest is warm and the look in his eyes sets her on fire.

He slightly pushes up to lean into her more. He presses messy kisses along her collarbone that make her pretty sighs come out. She still holds onto him as he trails his lips down to the middle of her chest. He leans her down more as if she's almost laying out on him to kiss just under one of her nipples.

He teases her, kissing everywhere else around her chest as his hands slide up to the inner part of her thighs. She places a hand on his and helps ease his nerves as he brings his hand to touch her. He feels her heat against his hand and silently hopes that she doesn't get grossed out about his sixth finger like others have.

He still kisses her everywhere as he rubs gentle circles against her core. She's wet and it drives him crazy. Her hips twitch against him as she lets out this soft moan. No one has ever touched her like this, no one has ever even kissed her this much.

She breathes out as his lips creep around her chest, it all becoming too much in the best way. She places a hand on his chest again and leans in to whisper.

"I need you," She tells him and he lets out the smallest groan. "Please. Do you have a-"

"Oh my g- yes! Hold on." He says, slightly out of breath as he holds onto her thighs and moves her onto the mattress.

He hears her cute laugh as he runs off into his room. He thanks Fiddleford in his mind for the second box that Ford had once thought was embarrassing. He grabs the whole box and begins to run back to her while he tears open the cardboard.

He throws the door back open to see her tossing her underwear to the floor as she looks at him. He breathes out in awe as he pulls a condom out of the box and pushes the door closed, locking it again. He goes back to her like gravity is pulling him. He stands in front of her as she reaches over to the band of his pants. She looks up at him as he helps her pull them down.

"Not yours, huh?" She hums.

"They really weren't," He swears as she reaches his boxers. "He threw in an extra box as bribery."

"Cute." She leans back with a smile as he lets his boxers fall to the floor.

The next thing he knows, she's pulling him over to her. He sits back on the bed where he was as she pushes him back against the headboard with a hand to his chest. She has this smile as she takes the condom from his hands and opens it. He watches her intently as she does and she looks back up at him.

"Is this okay?" Ford asks before she presses a kiss to his cheek and his heart flutters.

"More than okay. If it's okay with you, that is." She says softly and he quickly nods.

"I haven't had sex in over a year now, this is definitely okay." He breathes out as she peppers more kisses all over his face.

"Me too." She smiles between kisses and everything warms for her.

And even this feels different. She's delicate and she kisses him so softly and in a way that no one ever has. This is sweet and nice and warm. It has his heart pounding in his chest.

She pulls away, putting the condom wrapper on her nightstand as his hands fall to her hips. Her eyes look into his in a way that tells him that she's gonna touch him. Her fingers work carefully as she puts the top around his tip, the contact making him shiver. He watches her intently as she rolls it down his length and he's in even more disbelief.

"I can't believe we're about to do this." He breathes out as she sits up on her knees, her hands on his shoulders.

"Do you not want to?" She asks, still holding onto him completely.

"I do want to. It's you, Ellie." He whispers before her lips find him again.

He helps position himself at her entrance as she gets ready to lower herself down. She pushes herself down and the feeling sends ripples through her body. Ford holds on tight as she pushes herself down until her hips meet his. His breath is gone from the second he feels her.

Her fingers wander over his chest, thumbs teasing circles along the sensitive area of his collarbone. He lets out this low groan that makes her gently squeeze around him which drives him crazy. She starts pressing kisses up the length of his jaw, her body slowly moving against his as her hips glide back and forth.

She doesn't go too fast yet, letting herself enjoy the way he fits. He fills her perfectly and warm and feels so good inside of her. She can feel this stretch that is so perfect. His hands roam anywhere he can reach as she pushes her hips to fill herself up more.

"You feel incredible, Ford." She lightly moans as she pushes herself against him.

He whimpers beneath her, running his fingers up the length of her spine. Her skin is warm and soft and all he can process is Ellie. He can feel every little twitch of her body as his fingers make their way upward.

"You feel..." He trails off, his cheeks flushed. She squeezes again around the throbbing of his dick in her and he gasps, unable to think about his words or anything else. "So good. Perfect. Soft, and warm, and...and tight. Fuck, so tight, don't let me go."

"I won't." She runs her hands along him as the feeling begins to get overwhelming.

He pants, his hands back on her hips, his fingers squeezing against the bone as he helps guide her along him. She begins to pick up her pace, enjoying the feeling more than anything. He brings his hands back down to touch her again and that gets her going even more.
She goes faster and holds onto him so tightly. He feels his heart pounding for her.

Not just because she is so beautiful and feels better than anyone ever has. But because he is sure that he wants her in every way. In sex, in late-night conversations, in quick kisses, in her pretty laughs and smiles, in her voice, in the way she looks at him.

She gets closer and closer as she leans slightly back. His arm holds around her slightly back. His arm holds around her waist as she quickly moves her hips against him. She's never felt this before, this build-up. So she chases it, pushing her hips faster and deeper against Ford. She breathes out his name as if it's the only word she knows and he lets out this beautiful whimper.

"Ford! Oh god, Ford." She moans out as she feels everything suddenly tightening and pulling at her.

"Ellie, fuck." He breathes out as he tries his hardest not to finish. He can't, not when she hasn't and she's talking to him like that.

"I'm gonna-" She tells him before pushing herself a few more times and tossing her head back with a gasp as he continues pushing up and into her, not daring to stop moving his fingers.

And when he sees that fucked out look on her face, it's over. His cum fills the condom as he holds her close to his body. His fingers are in her hair and he presses kisses to her shoulder as he starts to come down. He holds her like there's never been anyone else. His heart is calling her name and all he wants to do is tell her that he has been wanting her for so long.

In this afterglow of a moment, he remembers that he never did tell her or anyone else for that matter the news he found out before coming to her.

"Ellie," He whispers and she pulls away to look at his face. She tangles her fingers in his hair as she looks at him. She presses more kisses to his jaw and he feels his heart pulling to her even more because she’s so perfect and cute and he feels like there's never gonna be anyone he wants more. "I got into that doctoral program I was telling you about."

She smiles and presses more kisses all over his face. He smiles as she does, enjoying the feeling and not wanting to let her go. But she ends up slowly lifting herself off of him and tossing herself onto the bed beside him. She brings up the blanket to cover herself as she begins to catch her breath.

Ford busies himself taking off the condom and trying to find a trash can. She points to one under her nightstand and he ties it off before tossing it away. He turns back to her who is looking up at the ceiling.

She turns to him with a soft smile as he pulls up the covers for him too. She gestures for him to come closer, to lie down with her. Without thinking, he crawls back under the blanket, lying next to her, unsure of what to say next. His mind is racing, but Ellie seems calm, her head resting against his chest. She's still catching her breath, but there's something relaxed about her that makes his heart feel lighter than it has in weeks.

"I couldn't hear a thing you just said to me," She tells him and he just looks at her for a moment. "That's never happened to me before. This has never happened to me before. I never felt that, what you just gave me. Before, it used to feel like a slight build-up that never went anywhere. It was fine but it was never great. That was...you were great."

Ford is trying not to think too much, not to let his heart get ahead of him. But Ellie is here, looking at him with the softest smile he's ever seen from her. She tilts her head up to look at him, her eyes wide and a little playful.

"My hearing was so muffled, it was weird. I didn't hear a thing you just said to me." She giggles softly.

Ford's face flushes, and he lets out a breathy laugh. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling awkward but in a way that feels good, like he doesn't have to pretend with her.

"No, I mean really, I couldn't hear anything," She says, a little more seriously this time, but her smile is still there. "Can you please tell me again?"

"I said...well, I got into that doctoral program I was telling you about." He repeats and he watches as Ellie's eyes light up, and she pushes herself up on her elbow to look at him properly, her hair tumbling over her shoulder.
And she looks so perfect. So beautiful and warm and lovely in a way that makes his heart flip and want to protect her and hold her for as long as she'd let him.

"Ford, that's amazing!" She beams at him, and for a second, he forgets everything else- Natalie and Simon, the confusion, the tension.

All that exists at this moment is Ellie's smile and the way it makes his heart race. She starts pressing little kisses all over his face, and he can't help but laugh, the sound coming out light and carefree.

"Ellie..." He murmurs between her kisses, trying to catch his breath as she continues to shower him with affection. No one has ever done this before either, been so sweet and gentle and showered him with kisses that feel backed up with something more than just friendship.

"I'm so proud of you," She says, her words soft but full of sincerity. "You deserve it, you really do."

He watches her, unable to stop smiling. The weight of everything he's been carrying—the doubts, the fear of what's between them-feels lighter, just for now. It's just the two of them, wrapped in the comfort of this moment.

"I can go back to my room in a minute," He starts, though his voice lacks conviction. He knows he should go, and give them both space to figure this out, but he doesn't want to move. He doesn't want to leave this. Ellie glances at him, biting her lip for a second before she speaks.

"Or you could... stay." Her voice is soft, almost shy like she's not sure what he'll say. Ford looks at her, his heart skipping a beat.

"Stay?" He repeats, his voice quieter now, but there's something hopeful in it.
She nods, settling back down beside him and curling into his side, her hand resting gently on his chest.

"Just stay. Please."

Ford hesitates for a second, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between them. But then he wraps his arm around her, pulling her closer, and he feels her relax into him.

"Okay," He whispers, his voice barely above a breath. "I'll stay."

For a while, neither of them says anything. They just lie there, their bodies close, the room quiet except for the sound of their breathing. When she gets up to go to the bathroom, lazily tossing her nightgown back on, he lets himself think with his heart for a moment.

And all he knows is that he wants this with her. Not just sex but everything. He needs it. Ford stands up to put his boxers back on with his pajama pants before sliding back into her bed. The sheets smell like her, he smells like her.

In the bathroom, Ellie is still reeling from the events that just happened. Ellie catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, cheeks flushed, hair a little messy. She touches her lips, still feeling the warmth of his kisses, and for a moment, she can't stop the small, giddy smile that creeps onto her face.

Now, she understands why people like sex so much, and why some people get addicted to it. Now, she understands why people crave this kind of connection, and why it can become something more than just physical. It wasn't just sex—it was Ford. Ford kissed her and touched her like she was something worth being worshipped. Like she was something precious, something worth holding onto.

As she splashes water on her face, trying to cool down the emotions swirling inside her, her thoughts keep circling back to the way he made her feel seen, adored, and safe. The way he said her name almost felt like a confession on its own. But she tries not to read into things.

Back in the bedroom, Ford lies in her bed staring at the ceiling, his mind full of her. He had always tried to convince himself that he could keep his feelings for Ellie at arm's length, that he didn't need her like this. But now, after what just happened, after holding her so close, he realizes how wrong he's been. He doesn't just want her; he needs her in ways he hasn't fully allowed himself to admit until now.

He can hear the soft sounds of her moving around in the bathroom, and it makes him smile to himself. The sheets still carry her warmth, and it's so comforting he can't help but settle deeper into them, feeling the weight of the moment.

When Ellie steps back into the room, her eyes immediately find his, and the quiet between them feels different now softer, more familiar. She walks over to the bed and climbs in next to him, resting her head on his chest again, her arm draped lazily over his stomach. Ford wraps his arm around her without thinking, pulling her closer, his hand resting in her hair.

For a while, they just lie there, wrapped up in the warmth of each other, not needing to say anything. Everything feels easy and natural. Like this is exactly where they're supposed to be. Ellie tilts her head up slightly, looking at him through her lashes.

"I'm really happy for you," She tells him, her voice soft, barely more than a whisper.

Ford looks down at her, his heart swelling at the sight of her so close, so comfortable with him. He doesn't have the words to explain just how much this means to him, so he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, hoping she'll understand.

"And I'm happy for you," He starts. "You've come so far from who you were when I first met you. You're happier, that's for sure. And now, you're in such a better place that you can even mess with that douchebag ex of yours."

"You know, Simon never made me feel this good," She says, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Guess I was aiming way too low. I didn't even know sex could feel like that, that it could be that good. Now, I get it."

Ford's face flushes almost instantly at Ellie's words, his usual calm composure crumbling. His eyes widen slightly, and he opens his mouth to respond but no words come out at first. He stares at her for a moment, blinking as he processes what she just said.

"Uh..." He stammers, his heart pounding in his chest, "I—well, I-uh, that's...good to know?"

Ellie laughs softly at his reaction, the sound making Ford's flustered state even worse. He glances away, clearly trying to gather himself, but there's a small smile forming on his lips despite the awkwardness. He's unsure of what exactly he did to please her like that. All he did was listen to what she was telling him in a way, he just paid attention to her. It was clear from her reactions what she liked, it's not rocket science.

"Well, I'm glad I could, uh... raise the bar," He adds, a touch of amusement in his voice, even as he struggles to keep his cool. He tilts his head down, catching her gaze, a new spark of confidence in his eyes. "Maybe I could... set the standard a little higher. You know, just in case you were curious."

"That's not funny, don't get my hopes up." She teases, wrapping her arms around him even tighter.

"No one's ever said any of this to me before, no one's ever been this nice." He whispers as he presses another kiss to her neck.

"You deserve nice. You deserve everything good." She tells him.

"I don't deserve this. I don't deserve this with you." He says between more kisses.

"What makes you think I'm so special that you don't?" She asks.

"Look at you, look at me. Do you know what people would think?" He asks.

"Well, I don't care what they'd think. I think you deserve everything. Isn't that what matters?" She asks.

"Well, I don't care what they'd think. I think you deserve everything. Isn't that what matters?" She asks.

"Yeah," He hums quietly, not entirely believing it. "I guess it is."