Take her out for some innocent fun.

You stand next to Ellen's roommate Amy in the back of The Reservoir, the cafe on the hill above Widley built in an old brick water tank. She tugs the loops on the light blue ribbon she's just re-tied on her wavy red hair.

You're flushed and sweaty from the self-help you had to give yourself in the bathroom, but feeling a little more cool and collected.

"So," Amy says, "If you really have a thing for Ellen, just keep playing your Mr. Nice Guy card. There are a couple of guys she's been dating on and off. I gotta admit that they're hunks. Dudes. Charmers. Don't tell Ellen I'm talking 'em down, but from what she says about them, well, they're kinda stuck on appearances. She's tied herself in knots trying to decide which one she wants, but what she really needs is someone who will pay more attention to her as a person."

"Not too many guys around here care if their girlfriend's happy?" you ask Amy.

"Well," Amy says, "Widley was all girls up to ten years ago, so the guys are still way outnumbered and they get so they don't try so hard. I pointed her toward some prospects but, um..."

"Ellen too stubborn to take dating advice?"

"No, actually she asks me for a lot of advice, and she takes it," Amy says, "but it doesn't seem to do her any good. She nixed a guy after one date because she thought he had stupid glasses. I introduced her to my old boyfriend, and I thought they had hit it off, but she decided it would be too weird to date a guy who might be daydreaming about the last time he had been porking her roommate. And I almost thought I had fixed her up with Lorraine Easterly-Smith, major cool gal who comes from serious money. The next morning she come back from Lorraine's, like, with major bed head hair and this dreamy look on her face. But she gets all freaked out about if she can take all the upper class stuff and breaks it off." She tosses her head, and her red ponytail swishes.

The dark-haired waitress scampers up, still young, pierced, and petulant. "Done?" she asks, looking at the wooden spoon in your hand attached to the restroom key.

"Uh, yeah," you say, and hold it up.

She snatches the spoon and key from you. As she brushes past, you catch a scent of amber essence on her hair. She slams the door, and you hear the muffled curse, "Men!" The toilet seat thumps down.

You look at Amy and swallow. "Um..." you say.

A fierce liquid tinkling sound comes from behind the restroom door.

"Yeah," Amy begins. She lowers her voice slightly. "I'd love it if, um, you and Ellen had a good time while you were here. She's been doing the party and night club thing a lot, and complaining that it's not really any fun. I bet she just wants to do something that's innocent, silly fun. Take her for miniature golf or bowling or something. There's a state fair a few miles away, maybe she wants to do the rides. You could win her a stuffed animal or something. Get her away from Widley. Keep it light, but fun, and smile a lot."

You consider Amy's suggestion. "You think she'll like it?" you say.

"Hey, if it doesn't work out, c'mon back and I can collect on the 'art modeling' you owe me. If it does, I'd love to sketch the two of you together."

You blink. "You mean...?"

Amy nodded. "She might. I was gonna sketch a 'conjoined nude' of her and one of her fashion dudes. She said yes, but the dude chickened out."

"Wow," you say. "The fair or something, huh?" you say.

"Something like that." Amy said. She shrugged. "Be nice. Be light. Be good to her."