Becoming Ella: An Opposites Attract Romance

by Mia Evans

  "Will," I pant, pulling away from his hot lips.

  He stares up at me, his eyes hot and wide with desire. I can tell that he wants to continue too.

  "What is it?" he asks, his hands trailing along my sides.

  "I think we should take this back to the van," I say.

  "And why should we do that?" he smirks.

  He pushes himself into me again, showing me how hard he is, and I can't help but gasp as his members stabs me through my shorts.

  "Because of that," I emphasize.

  He pauses, a pondering look crossing his face. "Hm," he says, "you're probably right. In a little bit. I want to enjoy you for a little bit longer out here. My beautiful girl. My favorite spot in the world. I'm in Heaven right now."

  My cheeks heat. Will must be able to see it because he leans in and kisses both of them, making them burn even brighter.

  Will rolls me onto my back so that he is on top of me, and he lays onto me, not entirely putting his weight on me, but enough so that I feel all of him. I wrap my legs around him, wanting to be even closer.

  He kisses me softly, gently, and I let him until the only thing I remember is how much I love kissing him and how perfect this place is and how happy I am to be here.

  Mid kiss, he pulls away.

  "Where ya going?" I pout.

  "You were right about going to the van," he shrugs.

  He pushes his desire so tightly against me that I can feel him throb through my shorts. It sends a crazy amount of heat between my legs.

  Will helps me up and grabs the quilt, shaking off the sand. He grabs his shoes and my sandals and refuses my offer to help carry anything.

  "I like taking care of you," he says, leading the way back.

  Once we are on the stones, he crouches down and slips my sandals back on. With his free hand, we hold hands as we climb the steep wooden steps we came down not too long ago. Or who knows how long ago it was? It could have been hours for all I know. That's how good of a kisser Will is.

  We walk silently back to Matilda, and I enjoy the lush nature around us. We pass under the arch again when Will suddenly exclaims.

  "What is it?" I ask, suddenly worried.

  "I almost forgot," he says, reaching into his pants for his pocket knife.

  "Can you hold this for a second?" he asks.

  I nod and take the quilt from him, confused. Will doesn't speak. Instead, he crouches down on the bridge.

  "What are you looking for?" I ask.

  "The perfect spot to put our initials."

  I look with him and see that the bridge is covered in couples' initials. I can tell that the bridge has been repainted several times, and some of the carvings look more dated than others, but hundreds show through.

  Will finds an empty spot and starts carving the first straight, slanted line of his W. When he is done, he carves my E next to his. I realize that together our initials make "WE," which Will separates with a plus sign in the middle. He draws a heart around them, which turns out looking more like a bubble butt.

  "Don't make fun of my heart," he says before I have the chance to laugh.

  He finishes it off by going over each of the marks so that they are deeper and our initials will stand the test of time and repainting too.

  "What do you think?" he asks, repocketing his knife and taking the quilt back.

  "I think your heart looks like a butt," I say.

  Will rolls his eyes, and I laugh.

  "I think it's cute," I say, rubbing my hand along his arm. "I've never carved my initials into anything with someone else."

  "We're going to have a lot of firsts, Ella," he says, looking at me thoughtfully for a moment.

  I smile shyly, and he smiles back. I feel a bit scared, seeing the deep emotion in his eyes. I realize that no matter how much Will has done, we will do so many things for the first time together.

  As a couple.

  And that makes me excited.

  Though, when Will pulls back Matilda’s heavy doors, my mood quickly sours.

  Fuck.

  "Fuck!" I exclaim when I look at my phone.

  Will pauses, his hands hovering on my hips. I have three missed calls from work, two missed calls from Jessa, a couple other missed calls and texts from other coworkers, and twenty missed calls from my mom. Also, about a dozen texts from my mom.

  I listen to the first one from work.

  Double fuck.

  I totally forgot I was signed up for an extra shift tonight. The next message from work asks me to call them and let them know that I'm safe, that this isn't like me.

  All of my mom's texts say that she is disappointed in me and wants to know where I am, that she'll call the cops if I don't let her know where I am right now, and that was over a half-hour ago.

  I even have a couple texts from Violet. Probably after my mom called her. She asked if everything is okay and, most importantly, if I'm having a good time with Will with a winky face.

  I take a shallow breath as I feel shaky. All of it is so overwhelming.

  I can barely scroll through the rest of the messages knowing that all of them are about me missing work and everyone wondering where I am.

  Triple fuck.

  "What's wrong, baby?" Will asks, kissing my shoulder.

  I know that he is just trying to be there for me and be supportive, but his touches and kisses feel suffocating. I wave him away and lean my head between my knees, trying to calm down before I have a panic attack.

  "Ella, what's wrong?" he asks again, sliding next to me. "What can I do to help?"

  I take another deep breath, trying to calm down.

  I'm going to get fired.

  This will count as a no call, no show, and that's going to be a huge bad mark on my record. All of my managers are going to look down on me from here on out. I'm not going to be thought of as dependable, and people will hate working with me.

  My mom will ream me out when I get home, and she'll be on my ass about this for weeks, months. And she's going to think that this is all Will's fault and be even more persistent about how he isn't good for me.

  All of these thoughts race through my mind, working me up until I can hardly get a breath in. The top of the van seems like it's getting fuzzy and going in circles.

  I don't know what to do.

  At least five minutes pass like this, me on the ground sucking in ragged breaths and Will staring at me, quietly, worried. My phone continues lighting up with texts from my mom.

  I see glimpses of her threatening to call the cops, and that she can't believe I would do something like this, she's so disappointed in me, etc.

  When my phone vibrates again, Will snatches it from my lap. At first, I want to tell him to give it back, but I can't say anything. Anxiety has filled me up to the brim.

  I am mad at myself — how could I forget this? I am sad — our perfect moment ruined. I also don't regret anything, which I think worries me the most. I should regret this. I should be telling Will to rush me home so that I can get ready and go in for the second half of my shift.

  Will scrolls through my phone, reading some of the messages, and I can tell that he is starting to get it. On one hand, it's good because he gets what I'm breaking down on his floor about. But on the other hand, it is terrible because he probably thinks I'm so lame for being so upset about this in the first place.

  "Hey, Ella, it's okay," he finally says, turning my phone off and setting it on his bed.

  He scootches closer to me. Before I can say anything, he pulls me into his lap and wraps his arms tight around me.

  "Take a breath, baby. It's alright. I promise. Everything is going to be okay."

  I shake even harder at his words. Everything feels the exact opposite of okay. In fact, it's a little annoying how he thinks all of this is just fine, no big deal.

  "Take a deep breath with me, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth."

  He raises his eyebrow at me, and I nod, taking in a deep breath when I can f
eel his chest sinking in and joining his loud exhale. It does make me feel a little bit better, but I can't stop shaking. I haven't been anxious like this in a long time. Realizing that makes me want to cry. I've been doing such a good job lately. And I hate that I'm breaking down like this in front of Will. He probably thinks I'm crazy.

  "I'm sorry," I cry, pressing my face into his chest.

  Will surprises me by chuckling.

  What about any of this is funny?

  "What are you apologizing for, honey?"

  "This. Ruining the moment. Ruining the weekend. I'm sorry."

  Will laughs again. I feel so angry at hearing him laugh that I pull away from his chest and look him squarely in the eyes.

  "I'm not laughing at you, honey," he says. "I'm laughing because you think this ruined our moment. And our weekend? It definitely didn't."

  "I'm a mess right now," I say as if that will clarify everything and make him realize what is currently happening.

  "I don't see a mess. I just see someone who is feeling stressed and overwhelmed."

  His kind words bring more tears to my eyes. I let him hold me tighter and cradle me to his chest, rocking me gently until my tears stop, and I can breathe again.

  "I'm sorry," I say again, taking a shaky breath and pulling away from his chest.

  He pulls me back tight against him and hugs me hard.

  "Stop apologizing," he says. "You're not doing anything wrong. You're human, Ella. You're allowed to have emotions."

  He looks at me seriously, and the weight of his words falls over me.

  When I was in the sixth grade, my mother told me that I needed to stop crying all the time. The few times I would break down in front of her, whether it would be about grades or friends or drama at school, she would stop me from crying, tell me I need to get it together. It was clear my crying and emotions annoyed her. Being so accepted by Will even though I lost it in front of him means more than he'll ever know.

  "Thank you," I say, leaning forward and kissing him.

  I don't even think about how gross my face must look, all blotchy and red. I don't even think about how much snot must be on my face because Will doesn't seem to notice. Or if he does, he doesn't seem to care.

  Will kisses me back and hugs me again, warming me up until I stop shaking. Since I am calm again, I try to wriggle out of his lap, but he holds me firmly in place.

  "We should probably get going," I say, reaching up to dry my face.

  Will brushes my hand away and replaces it with his thumb. He goes gently over my face.

  "Where are we going?" he asks.

  I shrug and sigh. My shift started two hours ago. I could call and say that I'm coming in, that I'm sorry, that I overslept and that I can stay later if they need, but no part of me wants to do that.

  What I want to do right now is curl up with Will in his bed, park here for the night, wake up early and see the sunrise over the lake. But I know we can't do that either.

  My phone is still buzzing with my mom's texts and calls. Though she threatened to call the police, I don't think she will. She hates making scenes, and she would be mortified if any of the neighbors saw the police in front of our house.

  Also, what would they even do? I'm nineteen. Legally I'm allowed to leave the house as I please. But her threats still scare me.

  "I should probably go home," I say.

  Will nods with me and reaches for my phone.

  "Are you going to call into work?"

  I nod. "Yea, I'm just going to tell them that I woke up not feeling well and that I overslept because of how sick I feel. I don't think I could make it through a shift."

  I take my phone when he offers it to me.

  "I think that's a good idea," he says. "I don't think anything too bad will happen. Knowing you, you haven't done anything like this before, and I know what a hard worker you are. I'm sure everything will be fine."

  I shrug, wanting to agree with him and feel calm, knowing that everything will be alright. But that is the complete opposite of what I feel right now. I worry that as soon as I call the unit, they will tell me that I'm fired.

  Despite the fear, I go into my most recent missed calls. I click on the latest one from work. It rings a couple of times before it's picked up. My breath catches in my throat.

  "Hi, 7West, Sandy speaking."

  At least the charge picked up right away, and I don't have to go through a line of people.

  "Hi, this is Ella," I say nervously.

  "Ella?" Sandy asks, confused.

  The wave of anxiety gets bigger until I realize that to everyone but Matt, Maddie, and Will, I am Eileen.

  "Sorry, Eileen," I correct.

  "Oh, Eileen! Good, I'm so glad you called. We've been so worried about you."

  I bite my lip, feeling guilty and nervous. "I know. I saw all the messages. I'm so sorry. I just have been feeling really crummy the last couple of days, and I didn't sleep very well last night. I was just so tired that I slept through all my alarms. I'm so sorry."

  "So you're not going to be coming in?"

  Sandy doesn't sound mad, but she doesn't sound thrilled either. I know it's probably because my absence will create more work for her in making sure that there are enough aids on the unit. The guilt in me doubles, but I also don't regret my choice.

  "No, I'm not. I'm sorry, but I'm not feeling well."

  Which is true. Right now, I feel like I could barf from anxiety.

  "That's alright, dear. You get better, okay? I'm glad you called and that you're safe, and you know what? Accidents happen. Feel better!"

  "Thank you," I breathe, relieved by her reaction.

  Sandy hangs up, and I let out a deep breath. Will kisses up and down my shoulder, raising his eyebrow when I put my phone down.

  "So?" he asks.

  "She didn't seem too upset," I shrug. "But who knows what management will say later? But for now, I guess it's alright."

  Will nods. "You might want to text your mom," he says when her name flashes across my screen again.

  I sigh, the anxiety in my stomach tripling.

  "Going home and seeing her will be worse than any corrective action management could give me."

  "That'll be alright too, though," Will says, rubbing my arms. "She's your mother; she's just concerned for you. She loves you, that's all."

  I swallow the lump in my throat. "No, she just hates that I'm not acting how I'm supposed to. I bet that when I get home, she's going to yell at me for how far I've gotten off my path and that I need to shape up. She's not going to let this go for a long time."

  "Have you ever thought about moving out?" Will asks.

  When my mom starts calling again, he takes my phone and shoves it under his butt.

  I sigh. "Yea, lots of times. But I'm not making enough money to move out right now. Violet lives on campus, and I don't have any other friends here I would want to live with. So, there's not really any options."

  If only Will knew how many times I had tried to solve that problem. No matter how many times I've daydreamed about it, it's impossible until I finish school and start making adult money. Regardless of how bad my mom treats me sometimes, she's giving me a free place to stay that's close to everything I need. I feel guilty again — all my mother asks of me is that I do good in school and work. And now I'm even screwing that up.

  Will pauses, a thoughtful look on his face. "You know, I know this is going to sound crazy, but you could move in with me."

  I gasp, and he smiles at me.

  "Like I said, I know it's crazy, but I would love it if you moved in with me. I could drive you to school and work every morning, and every night we could hang out here. Or we could go to the library if you needed to study or over to my dad's. We could explore on your days off, and you could get out of your mom's place."

  "Will…I…don't even know what to say."

  "You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to throw it out there. I can see how your mom is…overbearing. It migh
t be good for you to get out. Get some space to really think about what you want to do without worrying about disappointing her or making her angry. And maybe the space would be good for your relationship with her. She would treat you more like an adult. And you know, it's not very expensive to live in Matilda, especially if we're not going long distances. I would just ask that you chip in for gas and repairs," Will goes on.

  My mouth hangs open as a million thoughts about his proposal run through my mind. I know that I could never do it, because like Will said, it's insane.

  There isn't a bathroom. We hardly know each other. What if I move into his van, and then we hate each other a couple of weeks later, and then my mom won't take me back?

  Throughout all of those fears, though, a little part of me lights up at the idea. Even though it's a crazy, impossible, scary proposal, it's also exciting. It could fix a lot of my problems.

  "Like I said, you don't have to say anything about it. But just keep the idea in the back of your pocket. Like a Plan B if things go bad with your mom tonight. You don't have to stay there if you don't want to."

  He smiles at me and then crawls to the front of the van, where he lifts himself through the seat. He pats the passenger seat, and I crawl through after him, though I'm not nearly as graceful as him.

  I buckle in as Matilda roars to life, and I start going through my phone and clearing out messages.

  I respond to my mother, telling her that I'm on my way home. She tries to call immediately after receiving my text, but I don't answer. I turn my phone on 'do not disturb' and go through my remaining notifications, letting everyone my mother alarmed know that I'm okay.

  When I get to Violet's texts, I send her a couple of happy emojis, quickly describing that it was the best weekend in my life. I tell her that I'll let her know all of the details later. She sends me a winky emoji back, and I smile before putting my phone back in my bag.

  "Hey, Ella?" Will asks, looking at me briefly.

  He gets into the right lane and merges onto the freeway. I see the strange looks that other drivers give us, but Will speeds in front of them, making Matilda roar with a passion I've never heard from her.

  "Yea?" I ask.

  "This has been the best weekend in my life, so far," he says, smiling big.