Becoming Ella: An Opposites Attract Romance

by Mia Evans

  Becoming Ella

  Mia Evans

  Copyright © 2021 by Mia Evans

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design: Cormar Covers

  To C and the summer of 2018. Always & forever.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  About Mia Evans

  Want more of Will & Ella?

  Also by Mia Evans

  For Forever Chapter One

  1

  I trudge through my front door. My legs are heavy and tired—every part of my body aches. I would kill for a shower.

  I close and lock the front door behind me, heading into the kitchen, where I slide off my slippers and set my keys in the bowl on the table.

  My mother is sitting on the couch in the living room to my right, watching a Western. The sound of horse hooves is near deafening with the surround sound. She waves at me without turning away from the screen.

  I make my way back to my room and undress as I go. I tuck my scrubs carefully in my hamper. With how my day went today, it would be just my luck to have the vomit patch on my bottoms stick out through the holes and accidentally bump against it in the middle of the night.

  Being in the silence of my room, I sigh.

  For the first time in twelve hours, it's quiet. No call lights, no extra loud voices talking to patients who forgot their hearing aids at home, no one screaming my name.

  Just quiet.

  I enjoy it as I head to the bathroom for a shower. I brush my teeth before I jump in, and then I scrub myself, hard. The hot water soothes my tight muscles. I could orgasm with how good it feels.

  I scrub my curls thoroughly. A patient vomited on me today. Even though I got most of it out at work, I want to be extra sure that none of it is hiding in my locks.

  Honestly, the Universe must have something against me lately. Out of all the days someone could have vomited on me, it had to be today. I just washed my hair yesterday. My curls are going to hate me for shampooing them again so soon.

  I pump a copious amount of conditioner into my hands and work it through my hair until my head feels nearly three pounds heavier with all of the cream. I pick up my trusty wide-toothed comb and work through my curls, starting at the bottom and working around my head from left to right. I didn't want to be doing this after my shift, but I wouldn't dare shampoo and not detangle after.

  When I get out of the bathroom, the battle my mom is watching on TV is even louder. From what I can gather, a couple cowboys are having a bar fight. Even though that seems to happen in every Western my mom watches, she laughs like it's the first time she's seen men brawl in chaps.

  I shut my door to tune it out as I let go of the rest of the day. I dress in my favorite oversized t-shirt and moisturize every inch of my body. This is easily my favorite part of the day. Even better than clocking out felt.

  Once I feel smooth as a baby's butt, I crawl into bed. I experience the same near orgasmic feeling again from how nice my silky sheets feel. You know you're at a low point in your life when a shower and nice sheets get you that close to the edge.

  Even though I want to sleep, I reach for my laptop on my nightstand. I'm in two summer courses. Although I have already completed the next week's worth of material, I want to get further ahead.

  I decide to spend the next hour studying for my Anatomy course. I could have taken the course in the fall, but I wanted to be ahead of the game and not overwhelm myself before getting to the actual nursing program. With how my community college allows students to take classes, I'll start the program next spring, regardless.

  I am nearly through half of my flashcards when my phone rings. It's Violet -- my best friend since the second grade.

  "Hey, girl!" Violet roars.

  Even though she is loud, I can barely hear her over her background noise. It's a Monday night. What could she possibly be doing?

  "I'm at a concert with BigDickMatt. You remember me talking about him, right?"

  The way she shouts it, I cringe for her. I can only imagine the weird looks she's getting now. I wonder if said BigDickMatt is with her. A part of me guesses yes. That's just the type of person Violet is.

  Whereas I am the painfully quiet and sheltered homebody friend, Violet is the wild, balls to the wall friend who is always looking for her next adventure. She lives life on her own terms and stays true to herself no matter what. And her most authentic self is loud, funny, and wild. Even though I couldn't be more different than her, I love her, and we click.

  Even though BigDickMatt hasn't graduated to us just calling him Matt, I can tell that Violet is getting more attached to him. This is the third date she's had with him, and Violet rarely goes on three dates with a guy. There must be more to him than just his big dick.

  Even though she seems to be having a good time, a part of me worries. Even though Violet is wild and doesn't have a filter, she has a huge heart, and it's been getting broken every couple of weeks since she's gone away to college.

  "I do remember. You've been hanging out with this guy a lot."

  "You would wanna stick around a guy if he had a big dick too," she laughs.

  I can hear a couple people in the background laughing. I wonder if one of them is BigDickMatt.

  "I gotta go though, babe. I just wanted to call you now and let you know I won't make our regular talk tonight. I love you so much, though, EllyBelly."

  I roll my eyes at the nickname. Violet's called me that ever since she got drunk one night during our freshman year of high school. She thought it was the most hilarious thing then, and she still thinks it's hilarious now.

  "You be safe, Violet," I say, "No drinking and driving. No glove, no love. Text me when you're home."

  "Yes, Mom," Violet groans.

  Even though she groans, I know she loves me for it. She's the wild one, and I am the "Mom Friend." It's been that way for our entire friendship, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

  Even though I could never be wild like Violet, sometimes I wonder what it's like on the other side of things.

  "Mwah mwah," Violet shouts.

  The last of her kisses get drowned out as people around her erupt in screams. The band must be coming on stage. Before I can kiss back, the line goes dead. Violet texts me a string of emojis that include hearts, the dancing woman, and a series of eggplants.

  I am just about to respond to her when I hear a loud clunking. The noise is unusual, but I can immediately tell it's a car engine. It's so loud, nearly comedic. It belts out its garbled tune for a couple more moments before coming to a sputtering stop. A heavy sounding door pops open and quickly slams shut.

  One part of my brain tells me that I should stay in bed. Just someone driving a crap car. No reason to let that interrupt my studies. However, another part of my
brain begs to go. When I hear more clunking, that part of my brain wins.

  I stealthily creep to my window.

  I have a good view of my entire street with how high up my window is. I can see from the end of my road to the stop sign where the Robinsons live and to the other end of the street where the houses eventually disappear into trees, and the railroad tracks start. In the middle of that, I see Will Keely.

  Will Keely was two years ahead of me in high school, but he'd also been my next-door neighbor growing up. We played together when we were younger, but when we grew up, it was clear that he was popular, and I was not, so we stopped hanging out when he was in middle school.

  Seeing that it's him, I feel something like Deja Vu, and I remember that I've heard that awful clunking before. It's his van.

  The sound takes me back two or so years ago. I remember looking out the window when he first got the van, right after he graduated from high school. Since he was popular in school, I had remembered hearing talk of his eccentric plans for after he graduated. He wanted to work online, live in his van, and travel across the country.

  I was a sophomore at the time, and I, along with everyone else, thought it had just been talk. I remember hearing people joke around with Will about it. No one else besides Will seemed to take it seriously.

  When I saw him drive the van home, that was the first time I had believed it.

  Will and I had never been friends or anything like that. We had gone to all of the same schools, and still lived on the same street, but that was it. We were friendly, like he was with everyone. I would see him around the halls sometimes, and there were a couple of AP classes I sat behind him.

  Instead of the dark hunter green his van used to be, it's now a baby blue color. Most of the paint job looks pretty good, besides some slight rusting near the wheels.

  Will has the two back doors open, but I can't see what he is doing because the doors cut him off from my view. From the back, he looks the same as I remember him — dark brown hair, muscled, but not like those guys who are married to the gym, tan skin. He's dressed in casual clothes. He's so tall; I don't know how he could be comfortable crunched up in a van like that.

  Suddenly, Will steps back from the doors with various metal parts shoved precariously under his arms. He slams the doors shut.

  I duck slightly behind my blinds in case he decides to look up. I'm sure he wouldn't. And even if he did, I'm sure he doesn't even remember who I am. There would be no reason for him to look towards my window. However, I still duck because sometimes people can feel when other people are watching, and I don't want to get caught being the weirdo I am right now.

  "Eileen, come here for a second," my mom shouts, making me jump.

  Will turns a bit towards my direction. My mom screamed louder than the Western, so I cringe thinking of what he must be hearing from my window.

  I stay ducked behind my blinds and reach for the top of the window. Will turns back towards his van as I quickly pull the wood down, locking it for good measure. Then, I sneak off to the side of the window. The effort I put in to remain unseen makes me feel like a dirty creeper.

  "Coming, Mom," I shout back.

  I shake my head as I head towards her. I feel stupid for being so interested in whatever Will Keely is up to.

  2

  After I finish cleaning the house for the night, I go back to my room. It is now about nine o'clock; my eyes feel heavy. My body remembers how hard and busy today was, and it longs for my bed.

  Outside, I can still hear some clanging. I briefly look out the window and see Will working on his van. His dad is out there with him. Together, they take the solar panels off the top and set them on the grass off to the side.

  My room is stuffy. That is what I tell myself as I work my fingers under the bottom of my window and lift up.

  There's a little bit of truth to that. Wisconsin summers can be hot and humid at night, and we don't have the AC on.

  With the window open, I can hear Will and his dad talking. They are laughing, and Will has his shirt off. The shirt he was wearing earlier didn't leave much to the imagination, but I can tell that he takes care of himself with his shirt off. The rest of his chest is just as tan as his arms. I feel even creepier when I briefly wonder how my pale skin would look next to his in contrast.

  Will's dad laughs especially hard at something Will says, and Will chuckles with him. Their relationship has always been something that I envied. They've always seemed very close. Will's mom passed away when we were in elementary school. I was in third grade, which would have made him in fifth.

  For a bit, he stopped coming outside that summer and fall. However, when winter rolled around, Will and his dad started up again.

  Every snowstorm, they would build snowmen together and make snow angels. When the snow would start to melt, they would throw sopping wet snowballs at each other. In the spring, they would do yard work together and go for bike rides at night.

  I was always so jealous of that closeness back then, and I realize now watching them that I am still jealous. I always yearned for that type of relationship with my mother. On the surface, Will and I have one thing in common: a missing parent. The difference is our remaining parent dramatically differs.

  I can't help but be interested as I watch them work on the van. I've never been hands-on like that. Books are more my strong suit.

  Although, with Will's lifestyle, I suppose he would be even more of an idiot if he didn't have any understanding of mechanical things. With his life on the road and how old his van is, things probably break a lot.

  Suddenly, Will's dad points behind him. Towards me. My stomach drops. Before I can duck away, Will turns and catches me. My cheeks instantly heat, and I wish I could do something like pass out or fall out my window to avoid this awkward situation. I'm sure that I look mortified.

  To make matters even worse, Will smiles and waves at me with his free hand. He doesn't look the least bit creeped out. Instead, his smile looks genuine.

  For a moment, I am taken back to high school. I remember seeing Will give that same carefree smile to everyone in the halls. It's the same smile he gave me when he helped me pick up my stuff when my backpack decided to fall apart on my walk home when I was in middle school.

  Stupidly, I wave back. At that point, I figure I should just make a complete ass out of myself.

  Will's smile widens before he turns back to his father.

  My cheeks heat again, and I feel the urge to throw up from my awkwardness and stupidity. Hopefully, he'll be back on the road in a couple of days. It would be mortifying if I had to run into him from a distance that was closer than my bedroom window.

  Too shaken up for sleep now, I climb into bed and pull my laptop onto the top of my comforter. Before I can type my login information for BookCookie, my phone buzzes persistently at my side. I look down—an incoming FaceTime from Violet.

  When I answer, her teary-eyed face fills my screen. Instantly, worry passes through me.

  "What's going on?" I ask.

  Violet sniffles loudly. With how close she is to the phone, I can see that her eyes are bloodshot and puffy. She must have been crying for a long time. That makes me even more worried. Usually, Violet loves to talk things out, and so the thought of her crying alone scares me.

  "Matt's a fucking asshole," she cries, the phone shaking as a particularly harsh sob racks through her chest.

  "What did he do?" I ask.

  Although I'm sure I could come up with a couple of good guesses. Even though I know that Violet knows most of the college boys she's been pursuing aren't going to be good, long term partners, she keeps opening up her heart for them. She's always been a hopeless romantic, but I hate seeing her in pain over yet another fuckboy.

  "Well, we were hanging out, fooling around and stuff, and then I asked him if he would want to go out to dinner with me sometime. It's not like we haven't hung out outside of doing that kind of stuff. You know?"

  I nod, already k
nowing the type of scenario she's going to tell me. I'm fully awake now. All thoughts of sleep and Will out of my mind since I know that my best friend needs me.

  "Well, he gave me this look, and I could just tell that we were on completely different pages. And I feel like such an idiot. I knew that this would happen. It's not like I'm stupid and thinking that the guys I mess around with are boyfriend material. But even though I know that, I always go into those types of things with an open mind and a hope that maybe, just maybe, it'll be different. I know it's stupid. It's so fucking stupid. I always end up hurt like this."

  "You've just got a big heart, and you think that everyone else does too," I murmur, wishing I could be there to give her a hug. Seeing her in pain makes me hurt.

  "Yea, I always think the best of people that don't deserve it," she sniffles, blowing her nose on a tissue.

  Her crying has slowed down, and I rack my brain for something I could tell her that would cheer her up. I know that Violet doesn't like to stay down long.

  "We can add another moment to my most embarrassing list of experiences ever," I say, changing the subject.

  Violet's eyebrows raise, and I see a hint of her familiar smile under her sadness. I keep going, glad to tell Violet about my awkward and embarrassing encounter with Will Keely if it'll make her feel better.

  "You remember Will Keely?" I ask, knowing she will.

  Violet was always obsessed with staring at him from afar in high school. Like most girls were.

  "Of course, I remember Will Keely! He was some of the best eye candy in high school," she says, already brightening up.