[right] [sup][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019c49c3-37fa-731f-a86b-aed292314184.webp[/img] [img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019c49c9-d379-7439-abef-80ab5ac9d584.webp[/img] [color=black]eleanor hill • the author[/color][color=808080][color=2e2c2c].....[/color]| [color=2e2c2c].....[/color][color=daa520][b]#daa520[/b][/color] [color=black].019[/color] nye party > The afterparty • skydeck marquee[/color] [img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019c49c3-37fa-731f-a86b-aed292314184.webp[/img][/sup][/right] [indent][indent][indent][indent][indent] [justify] [color=silver] [color=gray]Minutes[/color] began ticking away quickly. Elly’s messages to Spencer continued to be left unread. Not including the one in which she wished him a happy New Year’s Eve (which still had no reply). She breathed. The room blurred for a split second. Faces distorted, not in drunkenness, but in paranoia. There was no other way to say it, she wasn’t just scared; she was terrified. And alone. Her mind raced. She could message or try calling her therapist (Oh, God, what was her name again?), not that she would answer. If there was one thing about Rebecca that Elly hated was her inability to respond ASAP and her voicemail urging her clients to call 911 for any emergency. Suddenly, the screen on her phone buzzed and jingled in her trembling palm, and immediately, Elly’s attention snapped to the glowing screen. Ewan Wycliffe’s name was printed across the screen. He was wishing her a happy New Year’s and trying his hand at a more spontaneous emoji game. He was probably drunk. Tongue, swept over lips – glossed and stained with charlotte red vanity and some sort of pseudo-fame ambiance. Complete with teeth scraping desperation from them with a small nurse. The faint taste of alcohol lingering for more. [i][b]Help.[/b][/i] Sending the message had barely crossed her mind before she sent the one-word text. Her fingers had tapped easily without much thought. There was barely any filter of consent between Elly’s mind and fingers, at this point. If anyone would respond, it was Ewan. [I][b]What’s happening? Are you OK?[/b][/i] He never cared for bullshit and fluff when she was “in-need.” Elly felt herself wanting to call him. She looked around. Faces were becoming legible, again. The murmuring of their voices were articulating. The room was buzzing in conversation. It [i]was[/i] calmer – [i]much[/i] calmer – than before [i]it[/i] happened. However, to say it was [i]calm enough[/i] for her to make a phone conversation was another story. Her thumbs began rapidly tapping at the touch screen. One letter at a time. A refreshing feeling of energy and sanity relieved her while she word-vomited the situation at Ewan. As she pressed [i]Send[/i] an over-encompassing need to be held by him swept over her. And, any thoughts of Spencer (and Charles, for whatever moment that happened) were long gone, stored away for a more stable and sober Elly. [i]Read[/i] Small rabbit breaths. Three bubbling dots. Elly closed her eyes again, thanking God, and without thinking, her fingers pinched together. A tap to her forehead then to her chest then to her right shoulder and then to her left shoulder. She didn’t care if anyone noticed. She didn’t think anyone [i]could[/i] notice. Not Elly. Not while wearing her off-price department store dress and second-hand, accessible luxury purse. Not while wearing her boring brown hair tied and twisted into a bun. Not while standing in her warehouse (unknown) brand-name kitten heels. Not while smiling robotically in serendipitous fashion on the back of one of her bestsellers. All the novel references were gone. There was no more insecure jumble of jumping from book-to-book. It was just Ewan and Elly, now. E & E. She liked how when he spoke to her, everything else moved away. Just like in Confession–her mind went to places it never went any other time. All the ugliness was spilling from her soul, and his hand, sometimes resting on her back, would console her. Trying to catch her attention from the icon of Jesus, his blue eyes would flash underneath his glasses. Small, handsome lips speaking calmly. The words he spoke to her were always comforting and wise. Sometimes or no, many times, she was crying. Her nose, wet with snot. And he was there. Never scolding her. Never shaming her. Over anything. Always, he loved her. No matter what. This time was no different. [/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]