Alby shrugged a little at the mention of Ellie. Lord knew he didn't understand girls or why they did what they did. He just kind of lived under the assumption that they all had an agenda, one way or another. "She's probably hiding something," he admitted. "Maybe you did bang her, who knows. Maybe she freaked out about it. Or maybe she was way fucked up on something and didn't want to tell anyone. Little Miss Perfect, can't have that. I'm not really that good of friends with her though..."
He really only knew Ellie because he was friends with Sam, and to a lesser degree through Scarlet. They didn't go to the same school or anything, so they didn't really hang out. But he was usually around her at social gatherings. They joked sometimes, and Alby often complimented her outfit choice or her hair, but that was about as far as it went. "Don't text her." He shook his head. "You'll just make it worse."
He sat up when her tone changed, took her chin in his fingers and lifted her gaze to meet his. "No," he answered, "As long as you stop suspecting yourself. You've got to chill out, B. Probably the worst thing you did that night was take a little too much and probably fuck someone of questionable desire. So stick to that. Don't be all fidgety and worried about it, it'll only make you look guilty." He was quiet for a moment, then shrugged. "Plus, the statistics of females murdering males are really, really low. Even accidentally. And I'm not guessing you'd have any kind of a motive anyway, right?"
He took a breath and let it out with a sigh. "And if worse comes to worse...just be honest. You were probably too fucked up to hurt anyone anyway, Bea. And a drug charge is a lot lighter than a murder charge..." But socially...the effects would be devastating.