Page 33 of Holly Jolly July

shots we both need to be in. The last scene has her pressing me against the fridge, face-to-face. I’m not sure how it’s going

to turn out, because I had to squat down to get Ellie’s height right for the take.

Afterward, Ellie goes to wash off her makeup while I arrange the clips in TikTok.

“It’s done, I think,” I say as she comes out, patting her face dry with a towel.

“Oooh, excited!” she squeals, though it’s fairly subdued.

Neither of us has complained that it’s one o’clock in the morning and we both have to get up for work in a few hours; we’re

having too much fun to care about how tired we’ll be.

Ellie settles on the couch so close to me she’s practically on my lap. I show her the film, which, for all of our work, is

under two minutes long. It has Blair Witch Project vibes, with the shaky camera and the random close-ups, but it gives the whole thing a gritty, raw feel.

I’m shocked at how well it came together. Even though I was there for filming, I still shiver when Ellie slinks into the cabin

and tense as we play a coy game of cat-and-mouse through the small space. By the time Ellie catches me and traps me against

the fridge, fully embodying her creepy-yet-powerful makeup, I’m engrossed.

I hold my breath as the alien encounters the woman in the film, how its nose glides up the throat of its soon-to-be-victim,

then comes to face-to-face with her. Eye contact is made, and I hadn’t seen it while filming, but there’s a palpable shift

right then, from fear to curiosity. The alien’s head tilts, her mouth parts, and her eyes drop down to the woman’s lips. The

woman swallows, her tongue darting out of her mouth, running along her bottom lip. Then their eyes meet again, sparking with

electricity. Slowly, cautiously, they lean in—

The film ends.

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

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

“What about you with those camera angles!”

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

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

She beams. “Thank you.”

Suddenly our close proximity feels different. She’s been snuggled against me half the night, seemingly unaware of personal

space, but just like in the film, there’s a shift.

My heart notices first, picking up its pace, stuttering in my throat. My mouth notices second, becoming dry, my lips parting,

breath coming in slower. It’s not just me; Ellie feels it, too. Her eyes fall to my lips like they had in the film, and her

throat works, swallowing.

I want to go further than the film. I want to bridge the space between us, to close the last inch separating her mouth from

mine, to feel her against me. I want to pull her smaller frame against mine, to feel her body, to trail my fingers along her

jaw, to taste her in so many places that the spark in my belly is quickly fanned to a flame.

But I’m not sure. Ellie’s never mentioned being into women—maybe she isn’t. Maybe this—whatever it is between us—is brought

on by circumstance, by alcohol, by something other than mutual attraction. I don’t want to take advantage. And I don’t want

her to do anything with me unless she’s sure.

I’ll never make that mistake again.

I pull back.

Ellie blinks a few times, then shifts away.

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

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

Ellie nods. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

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

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

I tell her, and she taps away at her phone.

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

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

Ellie nods, then flips through a few more videos on her For You Page, most of them full-figured women in revealing outfits,

dancing or singing. “Yeah, it’s such a rabbit hole. I could watch these all day.”

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

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

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

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

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

But she doesn’t.

Ellie finally stands and makes her way toward the bedroom. I’m immediately cold without her. She pauses before closing the

door, giving me one last look, a small smile. “Sweet dreams.”

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

She closes the door, leaving me to my thoughts and regrets for not kissing her when I had the chance. If only I’d seen her

TikTok feed minutes earlier; the algorithm doesn’t lie. Fate has a cruel sense of humour.

After washing and preparing for bed, it’s nearing two in the morning, but I’m still not tired.

I snuggle up on the couch and open my phone to rewatch our video over and over.

I relish the moment of Ellie being close, of her nose gliding up my throat, of the way she looks at my lips, the way our eyes meet, and I know—I just know —that the video captured something new and beautiful and uncertain. Something real .

An ache grows within me, a need for more, to relive that moment. But not until it’s just the two of us and no uncertainty

and no cameras, to fully explore that spark, to see where it leads. My imagination takes me further, to all the places I’d

kiss, how I’d trail my fingers along Ellie’s delicate collarbone, up her neck, along her jaw, then down lower, relishing every

inch of her skin. When my body can no longer take the temptation, I slip my hand between my legs and rock against myself,

rubbing circles slowly at first, then faster, until I find quiet release, mouth muffled against my pillow, and finally drift

off to sleep.