Page 135 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
The restaurant wasall things cozy without feeling cramped. Soft lighting flickered off the warm wooden panels, and the glass walls revealed a view so breathtaking that Ellis had choked on air when she stumbled inside after me, clutching my arm in pure delight. Her eyes had lit up with such amazement, it made my head spin.
Liv had vanished somewhere between the lookout and the host stand, leaning into my ear with a wink and whispering, “Don’t screw it up.”
Now it was just Ellis and me, sitting across from each other, a single candle flickering between us. We were both wearing what I was sure were nervous smiles that mirrored each other. The candle’s reflection trembled in the window, and Ellis fidgeted slightly, toying with the edge of her napkin.
The waitress had only just left us after bringing menus and table water. I decided enough was enough with the silence and let the ease I’d learned over the years fill the space between us. Leaning onto my elbows, I let a glint spark in my eye.
“So,” I murmured, coating my voice in put-on casualness. “I’ve been meaning to ask…”
Ellis’s eyes snapped to mine, filled with curiosity and caution at my tone.
“That failed date Liv was giving you shit about in the car that day—was it really that bad?”
The groan that left Ellis was pained, but I could hear a hint of laughter behind it—whether at herself or not, I wasn’t sure. She brought the menu up to cover her face, shaking her head.
“Of course you would bring that up,” she mumbled behind the cardboard.
“Look, Liv made it sound near catastrophic, and I feel like enough time has passed now that I can ask for a shred of context.”
Ellis dragged the menu down slightly and narrowed her eyes at me.
“It wasn’t… it wasn’t catastrophic. Just… awkward.” She set the menu down and rubbed the back of her neck. “Like, epically awkward.”
I held her gaze, waiting patiently. Ellis sighed.
“Look, my therapist had given me an assignment,” she said on an amused exhale, her tense shoulders relaxing. “She wanted me to stop being obsessed with dying. To stop… I don’t know, revolving my entire personality around it. Going on a date—or making a friend—was one of the tests. So I jumped into it with reluctant gusto. It was just so…” She waved a flippant hand and grimaced. “She was lovely—the girl, Katie. I just didn’t know how to date. How to talk to someone.”
We were briefly interrupted by the waitress, who took our order. I requested a pasta dish, and Ellis opted for the same, handing back her menu with a polite smile. She discreetly checked the time on her phone before filling her glass with water and taking out her tablets. I waited patiently, pouring my own glass while she finished. When she was done, I raised a brow.
“Continue,” I said with a grin.
A hint of a smile danced on her lips.
“It was so stilted. She asked me all the normal questions you’d ask someone on a date,” Ellis said. “And I just kept circling everything back to my health. Dying. I felt so bad for her. I could see it on her face. Anyway, she went to the bathroom, and when she came back, not long after, her phone rang. Her mom. An emergency.” She shot me an amused look, and I bit my lip.
“Ouch,” I said with a grin.
“I deserved it,” Ellis said with a shrug. “I was relieved, honestly. Anyway, I just started walking in the direction of my therapist’s office to give her a mouthful about what I thought of her stupid project… and then this woman walked out of your shop. She looked so… happy. Blissful. I just walked in without thinking.”
The restaurant buzzed around us as we ate and talked, the sun almost fully set now. When Ellis took the last bite of her food and the sky outside slipped into a dark, dazzling blue, a faint red-orange glow burned low on the horizon.
I watched her.
She looked deep in thought as she chewed, gazing out the window while we sat in comfortable silence.
She wanted to say something—I could see it in the slight furrow of her brow.
I didn’t rush her. I kept the space, eating my own food and looking out the same window, taking in the slow scattering of stars beginning to dot the sky.
“I used to think,” Ellis started, her voice low. I turned to look at her. “I used to think that everything I missed out on—growing up and as a teenager—that it was just gone forever. It felt like I’d been written out of a script. The script of normality everyone else got to follow and live. And I’d become this side character people stopped thinking about.”
She pursed her lips, and I leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, listening.
“This past week feels like… like I’ve hijacked someone else’s script. Someone else’s lines. A story that was meant for someone else.” She frowned and tapped the table once. “I guess I did. This was Liv’s trip—the one she didn’t get to take.”
She set down her fork and let out a soft breath.
“I know I’m lucky,” she whispered, her green eyes meeting mine, filled with a depth that threatened to swallow me whole. “I’m so lucky to be here, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like I’m faking it. Like I don’t wake up every morning knowing I’m on borrowed breath. And that no matter what action I take—any task I do—I’m scared this heart will… her heart… will give out. That it’ll all be taken from me. All over again. And that small glimmer I feel—the daring to hope I could have more—it’ll all be gone. Again.”
