Now she imagined everyone in Grand Central with bicycle helmets on.
It was a good image.
Before the world ended, Ellie had been a different girl. Sort of. As much as she could remember, she remembered happily -- but she had no illusions about any of it, even though in some ways perhaps she'd be entitled to illusions now. She'd always been the kind of person to enjoy physical contact in one way or another; she cuddled with friends, slept pressed up against them on stranger's couches, held their hands walking from one place to another. Maybe it was because even then she hadn't been a person to talk about how she felt, and it was easier to do those things instead. Of course -- it was clear to see the kinds of circumstances that inability had put her in. Maybe it would do to be different now, now that she'd somehow been given a second chance with life again.
Still.
She didn't mind being close to Evan. It felt like something familiar, but something different -- nice. Honestly, she wasn't even sure a boy had ever put his arm around her without intending to do other things a few minutes later. Ellie had never managed something more with anyone.
"I might be tired," she confessed, running a finger along the drawn scarf. She turned her face upward toward his, smiling slowly, somewhat sleepily now, and pulled the blanked more tightly around thin shoulders. "Oui."
Ellie didn't mind treating Evan like all of those lost friends, if he wanted her to. It was warm -- more than she'd imagined, sneaking along the streets by whatever carefully contrived reasoning. The hand on her forearm was the one with the ring; it caught her eyes, but she found that it looked lovely there. Probably inappropriate to say. Probably. Good catch, Eloise.
"Sleep doesn't feel the way it used to," she told Evan, after a moment. "I remember it differently."
But it felt good to close her eyes now, with her head nestled against his shoulder. Maybe even safe.