She stepped closer. I was suddenly very aware of the geometry of the room—the narrow aisle between the island and the fridge, the way her shadow fell across me. She was tall, and the neckline of her soft black dress dipped just enough to be a question, not a statement.
Ellie Nova. Jess’s best friend since childhood. The name alone conjured a very specific image: honey-blonde waves, a laugh that could fill a stadium, and a figure that made sweater weather everyone’s favorite season. She was a storm system to Jess’s clear skies. And I’d always been strictly ground control.
“What Jess was too scared to do.” She reached up and touched my chest—right over my heartbeat. “I’m seeing if something’s still alive in here.” mygirlfriendsbustyfriend ellie nova
Ellie’s eyes lifted to mine. Dark brown, not the warm hazel I’d always assumed. “Maybe that was the problem.”
And for the first time in three days, I didn’t feel like a weighted blanket. I felt like a live wire. She stepped closer
“Jess hates when I drink IPA,” I said, confused.
For an hour, we packed Jess’s things in awkward silence. Ellie would hold up a scarf or a book, and I’d nod or shrug. But the real conversation happened in the kitchen, where she poured two glasses. Ellie Nova
“She says you never fought for her,” Ellie said, studying the amber liquid.