My face heats. Thank God Ellis isn’t paying attention. He plops down on the bed, puts his opened bottle on the floor beside him, pulls the bowl of Bolognese toward himself, then preoccupieshimself with his phone. Barely a minute later, he castsLove, Actuallyon the television and switches off the lights. The glow of the screen is just enough for me to be able to see the spread on the mattress and the way Ellis grins at me.
Fighting back a smile, I mimic him. I sit down as well, placing the bottle on the floor, and debate eating the banana bread before an actual meal. When Ellis starts harping about how the movie’s off to an awful start and how it’s already so sappy, I take a swig of the wine instead. He barks out a laugh, watching as I gulp down the alcohol. I don’t know shit about wine, but based on how smoothly it goes down my throat, even I know it’s the good kind.
Ellis doesn’t hold back his critiques about the movie, complaining about how there’s too many storylines and about how horrible some of the characters are. He says it between mouthfuls of pasta and occasionally reaching down for his wine.
“Ohhh, God, he wants his best friend’s wife.” Ellis shakes his head and heaves out a dramatic sigh. My lip twitches when he gives me a baffled look. “Of all people he could want, he wants her!?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Sometimes you can’t help who you want.”
He smirks, his eyes lighting up. “That’s deep, Dee. Totally agree, though.”
His lower lip’s glossy with red wine, and I wonder if it would taste as sweet if I licked it off?
I bring my bottle up to my mouth and take another gulp. Nobody’s more surprised than me when I realize I’ve already drank half of it, all thanks to Ellis not holding back his criticism of my favorite movie. I can feel the effect of it on my warm cheeks and the slight fuzziness in my mind. I’m drinking more than I’m eating, mostly because Ellis seems to really like pasta and his appetite’s way better than it was yesterday. If he’s still hungry later, he’ll need my bowl as well.
He doesn’t seem impressed by the banana bread, as opposed to me who’s already had two slices.
“You going to finish that?” Ellis asks, staring hungrily at my half-eaten meatball pasta.
Called it.
“Nah,” I say, pushing it toward his side.
Ellis beams, grin spreading wide, and I watch as he practically vibrates side to side when he grabs my food for himself.
It’s hard to focus on the rest of the movie as Ellis continues to chatter throughout it. He doesn’t hold back on giving me his thoughts, including how unrealistic most of the scenarios are. Ellis gets so passionate about his arguments, gesticulating wildly, and soon enough he’s much closer to me, slapping my knee as he makes his points.
I’m not sure if it’s because of the alcohol in me or because he’s now leaning his elbow against my thigh, but it’s definitely a lot warmer than it was when we started this movie. Ellis’s cheeks are red and he has a dazed look in his eyes, and judging from the light buzz in my head, I’m sure I look the same.
He doesn’t complain when I slip the bottle away from his fingers, scared that he’ll spill its remnants all over our sheets.
“Dee. Damon.” He taps my leg with slim fingers. “No, no. I’m not done. Give that back.”
Sighing, I hand it back to him knowing that there’s no point arguing.
It doesn’t get past me that he gets oddly quiet during the scenes where Emma Thompson’s character finds out her husband’s cheating, though. Ellis bows his head and suddenly gets very fascinated with his half-empty bottle of wine, swishing it around and blinking at it. His shoulders go stiff, and he drums his fingers against my knee in rapid successions.
“Stop that,” I mumble. Without thinking, I squeeze his wrist.
He lets me, and his hand relaxes. It stretches out on my thigh, once, and then his fingers curl against me. I almost don’t want to let go, but I do.
When the scene about the cheating’s over, he rubs his nose and lets his eyes drift to our open window. It’s started to snow again. Flakes dust the frame, and he blinks at the blurry lights that the city skyline gives us.
“Ellis?” I ask. “Do you really not like the movie?”
His eyes are half-lidded, and he’s leaning against my shoulder. “A bit too corny. I don’t buy the idea of romantic love. Hooking up and fucking, sure, but being with one person and committing? Knocking on a hundred doors to find one person you’re in love with? Too much trouble.”
I press my lips tight, my gaze unfocused on the screen. It’s nearly the end, and the music and the conversations—the people flitting around—don’t catch my attention like they usually do. It’s not that he’s ruined the movie for me, but his words do scratch at my chest. They give me a totally new insight on who Ellis Donlan is.
“So you prefer hooking up over commitment,” I murmur.
Who knows why the hell I felt the need to say that? But we’re crossing all sorts of boundaries tonight, so might as well push it.
“And you like commitment,” he counters almost immediately. Ellis doesn’t move away from my shoulder. He stays a steady weight against me.
“And how would you know that?”
“Because I’m good at reading people,” he says with that confidence that never fails to amaze me. “Why do you think I get the good clients? It’s not because of my last name. It’s because I can read people well. When you know what drives someone, then it’s easy to work with them. It’s also easy to piss them off. You, Damon? You like stability. You’re a solid rock, and you hate unpredictability. It frazzles you. That’s why it’s so easy to getunder your skin... and that’s why I know you prefer commitment over one-night stands.”
