Accept the offer

You nod before you can overthink it.

“Yeah. Okay. That’d be… really helpful, actually.”

Ellie gives a small, pleased smile and glances down at the oversized t-shirt she’s still wearing. She tugs lightly at the hem.

“I’ll just go put on something more suitable for handling boxes,” she says. “Won’t be long.”

She starts to turn back toward her door.

Your brain, once again, chooses the worst possible moment to short-circuit.

“Whatever your box is comfortable in is fine,” you say.

The words leave your mouth and the second they do you feel the heat slam into your face. You freeze.

“I mean— whatever you’re comfortable in. Clothes. Whatever clothes you’re comfortable in. For the boxes. The cardboard ones.”

You’re already talking too fast, trying to shovel the sentence back into your mouth. Your ears feel hot. Ellie has stopped with one hand on her door handle. She looks back at you, eyes a little wide, and then a short, startled laugh escapes her — the same embarrassed kind as earlier when you made the other terrible joke.

“Oh my god,” she mutters, pressing her lips together like she’s trying not to smile wider. Colour floods her cheeks again. “You’re really bad at this.”

“I know,” you manage. “I’m sorry. That was—”

“It’s okay.” She’s still half-laughing, half-mortified on your behalf. “I’ll… go change. See you in a bit.”

She disappears inside. The door clicks shut.

You’re left standing on your own porch with a burning face and the clear knowledge that you just made it worse.