Becoming Ella: An Opposites Attract Romance

by Mia Evans

  "A patient threw something at me," I say.

  "Are you kidding? Did you say you wanted to press charges?"

  "No."

  He breathes out heavily and gently lets go of my arm. "I should go up there and kick that guys' ass. Pretend to be a visitor or something."

  "That would be a bad idea."

  "Yea, maybe," he shrugs, "but whoever did that to you would be a lot worse off."

  "It'll heal soon enough," I shrug.

  Although, if I'm honest, seeing him care that much makes the butterflies the most excited they've ever been. It is exciting for a second but quickly turns to irritating because absolutely nothing could happen between Will Keely and me. Though I'd be a liar if I said I don't enjoy the brief thoughts I have about it.

  "That's just utter garbage," he growls. "You don't deserve that. No one working in healthcare deserves that."

  "No, we don't."

  "Do you have the stuff you need at home for it? I could go to the store and get you some ibuprofen? Or some hot and cold packs. Do you have any of those?"

  "I'll be okay."

  At this point, I just want him to drop it. Seeing him care so much makes parts of my mind wish for things that can't happen.

  "I know that. I asked if you had any of that good stuff. Really, I wouldn't mind going and picking anything up."

  I can feel the irritation building. I squeeze down hard on the straps of my backpack, willing it back down to wherever it came from. I don't like having conflict with people. I would just rather skirt around the matter and avoid it as much as possible. I don't like feeling angry. I'd rather my emotions always stay around a leveled calm.

  "Thank you for your concern," I say, "but I've got it. I'll be fine."

  He's silent for a pause. I stay quiet too.

  "You know, it's not a bad thing when people want to care for you," he says.

  We cross the intersection that brings us to our block. Will's van is further down parked against the curb.

  "What are you even working on on your van, at this point?" I ask, stubbornly changing the topic.

  Will's eyes narrow. For a second, I want to take it back, apologize, go inside and forget he ever came back into town. But I don't. I am angry, and he's pushing it.

  I can take care of myself. I don't need help. I can and will figure it out myself.

  "Well, nothing at this point," he admits, shrugging.

  "You jerk, he's staying in town because of you," the butterflies urge, stupidly. He probably just wants to spend more time with his dad or something.

  "When are you going to be leaving?"

  He smiles at me. "Not for a while." He looks me right in the eyes when he says it.

  It makes me uncomfortable.

  Though with his green eyes staring at me like that, I can feel all of my anger melting off me like ice cream.

  "I should go in and shower," I say when we are in the front of my house.

  "You should," he says, taking a step back.

  "Thanks for all the concern," I begrudgingly say.

  "Anytime."

  I start to turn for my door, and it feels so reminiscent of this morning that I almost smile. I wish that the crappy day hadn't been in the middle of then and now.

  I let my mind wander for a bit, thinking of all the other possibilities that could have been the middle of my day instead. Most of them involve Will and I walking past the hospital to enjoy our day together, doing whatever.

  "Hey, Eileen?" Will asks as I fish for my keys.

  "Yea?"

  "Come outside when you're ready to hang out."

  I pause for a second, near dumbfounded. Will's face is completely serious, though, and for some reason, I believe it. Despite my intentions, warmth spreads through my chest and stomach.

  "Who said we're hanging out?"

  "Me. I wanna go for a walk and talk with you."

  "Why?" I ask, genuinely puzzled.

  "Because you seem like you could use a good listener. And I want to get to know you."

  I should tell him no, that I have homework (although he'd know it's a lie). He's just friendly, nothing more. He probably feels obligated to offer because he saw how upset I was.

  "I don't think we should."

  "And why is that?" he asks.

  "Because we don't really know each other. Um, and I have quite a few things that I need to get done for tomorrow."

  Liar.

  "Well, I think we should. Like I said, I want to get to know you."

  He nods once more at me and then starts walking to his van, leaving me with nearly a hundred more thoughts and questions racing through my mind. I fish for my keys again and unlock my door, getting blasted with the delicious cold of AC on the other side.

  "Hello, dear!" my mom calls. She's watching another Western.

  "Hello," I shout back, half of my mind still on Will.

  I shrug my slides off and set my backpack on the kitchen table. Mom goes back to her Western, and I go down the hall to my room, where I strip before showering.

  8

  After my shower, I walk into my room, my wet hair clinging to my face and shoulders. I wrap a bandage around my arm.

  Though I don't think Will and I will be seeing each other, I still add some of my best products to my curly hair. It's thirty-two dollars for a medium-sized bottle but makes my curls look like magic, perfectly coiled and separated.

  I change into a comfortable pink romper and smooth my wet curls over my shoulders. I look at myself in the mirror.

  I know that I'm not unattractive. However, I'm definitely not as attractive as the types of girls Will hung out with in high school. Will didn't seem to be a player or anything, but I could see him being one; he had the looks for it.

  I wonder briefly what his dating life is like on the road. He could be across the country by tomorrow. It would be the perfect set up if he was a player.

  Realizing that, it's weird to me why he wants to hang out with me. I was probably just reading into it, and he really was just being friendly, nothing more.

  After I am ready, I sit back on my bed. I know that I should reach for my laptop and work even further ahead in the classes I'm enrolled in, but I just don't have it in me.

  For the first time in a long time, I want to sit and process all of my life changes lately.

  Will is definitely the most interesting of them.

  I should call Violet tonight. Even if Will and I don't end up hanging out, we can go over it. She is much more experienced with boys than I am, so I trust her advice.

  Sometimes I wish that I was more like her and more like a typical nineteen-year-old. This is supposed to be the time of my life where I'm going out, trying a million new things, and being wild and free. Violet is doing that, Will is too. But I've just never let that be me, and I know it couldn't be.

  Sometimes I wish I had gone to one of the big schools that accepted me. If I had gone, maybe I would be out partying every weekend like Violet. Instead of asking her questions about boys, I would figure out my own answers because I would have my own experiences. Maybe I would believe that someone like Will could be genuinely interested in someone like me.

  To get my mind off everything while I wait, I reach for my laptop next to my bed.

  I quickly log onto BookCookie. I thrum my fingers on my keyboard as my homepage loads.

  Today's notifications are in line with my daily averages: a total of one thousand reads today and thirty new comments. A couple fewer followers than I'm used to gaining every day, but the comments and reads are what excite me the most. Knowing that people are reading my story and care enough about it and the characters mean a lot more to me than seeing my follower count go up.

  I click on the comments notifications and start responding to all of them.

  Seeing these comments make bad days like today fade away. For the first time today, I can relax, sink into my bedding, and escape to my own world.

  I am just responding to the last comment whe
n I hear a little plink against my window. At first, I think it's only one of the branches scraping against the glass, but when I hear another one, I think it might be Will.

  I close my laptop and cross my room.

  Sure enough, underneath my window, there is Will. He has a small collection of pebbles in his right hand, a mischievous grin on his face, and a backpack on the ground next to him.

  The butterflies can't help but swarm from the way Will is looking up at me right now.

  I reach and open my window.

  "I'm glad you answered on the second pebble," he calls up.

  I laugh as he dumps the rest of the pebbles in his hands back in the flower beds. My mom will probably flip when she finds them all messed up later.

  "Let's go," he says, picking up the backpack and sliding his arms through the straps.

  "Be down soon."

  I think my easy response shocks him because his eyebrows raise as I slide my window frame back down.

  I slide on a pair of white Converse and tuck my phone into the pocket on my romper. My curls are halfway dry by now. They will probably frizz up before I make it down the block, so I throw a couple of scrunchies into my other pocket to be safe.

  "I'm going to go for a walk," I tell my mom.

  She doesn't turn back to look at me (John Wayne is on the screen), but she does nod.

  "Hey, you," Will says, meeting me on the porch.

  Even with me standing on the porch, he is still a foot taller than me.

  "Hey," I say.

  "Looks like you wrapped your arm pretty good," he says as I step down next to him. Now he's even taller.

  "Yea, I hope it'll go away by next week."

  “Here, I just have to get something out of my van real quick.”

  “Sounds good,” I say, trailing behind him.

  He fishes for his keys in his pocket and unlocks the side door. When he opens the door, a waft of smoky incense blasts out at me.

  “Do you hotbox in here?” I laugh, waving the smoke away.

  I take in the clean interior of his van. Along the top perimeter, he has dozens of polaroid pictures hanging. There are tons of pictures of beautiful views and tons of him and others. He was popular in high school, so it’s not hard to imagine him meeting and befriending tons of people everywhere he goes.

  “What do you think of Matilda?” Will asks as he shuffles through a metal bin near the door.

  It is homier, cleaner, and fancier than I would have expected. Before seeing Will’s, I would have thought people living this life sleep on a patchy mattress on the floor. Nothing like the professional work that Will has done.

  “I think she looks really nice,” I say honestly.

  Will turns back and smiles at me. I can see how much the compliment means to him. He goes back to riffling in the wire bin before turning around and coming back with a small portable charger.

  “Just in case my phone dies, and we get stranded in these wild streets,” Will jokes, tucking the charger into a pocket on his backpack.

  “Yea, we definitely wouldn’t want that,” I laugh, stepping back as he closes the heavy door.

  Will jerks his head towards the railroad tracks, and we start walking that way.

  "Where are we going?"

  "Through the railroad tracks."

  I laugh with him as we fall into an easy and comfortable pace.

  In the next half hour or so, the sun should be completely down. It's about halfway there; the sky a beautiful mixture of dark oranges and deep yellows.

  "It's so beautiful out here," I say.

  He looks over at me, smiling even more, "Yea, it is."

  He doesn't look away from me. I'm sure that he can see my blush.

  "So tell me, do you even like it?" he questions.

  "Like what?"

  "Nursing. Healthcare. Do you even like any of it?"

  I sigh. So we're starting out with the serious stuff. Pushing a stray lock of my hair behind my ear, I listen to the crunch of gravel under our shoes. Being this close, I learn that along with cologne, Will smells like fresh laundry and Old Spice.

  "Nursing is stable," I finally answer. "People are always going to need hospitals, and hospitals are always going to need nurses. I won't have to ever worry about being out of a job."

  "That's not even close to the same thing as liking it," he murmurs, raking a hand through his messy waves.

  "Well, I don't need to like it. I need to be able to provide for myself. Need to be able to do something productive for society and be able to support my future. As a nurse, I'll always be able to do that. And I do like parts of it. Helping people makes me happy."

  For some reason, I find it incredibly easy to be honest with him. I've never been this open about it with anyone else before, but with him, the words just fall out. And I don't even regret them after I say them. I feel…comfortable.

  "Liking it has everything to do with it!" he exclaims. He looks at me like I've got three heads instead of one. "You really want to lock yourself into a career you hate? Why would you do that to yourself?"

  The sincerity and passion he talks with takes my words away. It's definitely not the conversation I was expecting. I expected us to stay in the lane of small talk, sometimes venturing out for snarky comments or observations like we've been doing.

  This is the complete opposite.

  I didn't believe he was really serious when he said he wanted to get to know me.

  I open my mouth to say something but close it just as quickly. I try again, and Will turns to look at me, but I still can't come up with an answer.

  My earlier excuse of being able to provide for myself sounds like a good one to use again, but I know that he would just keep going on about it. I don't have the energy to argue with him about it. And I especially don't have the energy to argue with myself about it. Nor do I want to. I don't want to think about something as serious as that right now.

  Since this is the first time we've talked about it, he might think that this is the first time I've asked myself these questions too. What he doesn't know is that I've quizzed myself on them harder than he has. No matter how much I go over them, there is no good, satisfying answer. It all ends with me feeling like I'm strapped to a rocket, blasting toward something I should want, but feeling dread with every inch I speed along.

  "I'm just saying, I think that everyone should only study something that they know they want to do, that they love."

  We are at the railroad tracks now, and Will darts in front of me. He quickly steps over the first track and holds out his hand to me. Even though I would have been able to manage without it, I take it. It makes me remember this morning when I spilled hot coffee all over my hand.

  As soon as our hands connect, the butterflies come alive with a roar.

  He squeezes before letting go, and I wish that I could be more like him and have the courage to grab his hand back. Like I want to. But I don't. This could all still be just friendly. Maybe he just needs someone to keep him occupied until he's back on the road again, and for some reason, he's chosen me.

  Even if he meant it as something more than just buddy-buddy, he's going to be leaving soon. There's no point in opening that can of worms. No matter the angle, it wouldn't work between us. I clear my throat and try to push those thoughts out of my mind. I also keep my hands closer to myself.

  "So you don't love anything?" I ask.

  Besides barely knowing who he was in high school and the fact that he's got a van and a beautiful smile, I know next to nothing about Will Keely.

  "What do you mean?"

  "You said that you think everyone should study something that they love. So you don't love anything enough to be in school?"

  "Eh, I definitely have interests. But I don't need to go to school to learn them, nor should I."

  "Why not?"

  I expect him to sigh or pull away from the question, which I would do, but he doesn't. Instead, he seems to do the exact opposite. He seems to welcome the qu
estions, an excited look spreading on his face.

  "The whole point of school is to get a degree in something that you can make money in later, right?"

  I nod.

  "Well, I'm already making money. Those statistics about how little people earn if they don't go to college might be true for a lot of people, but they're not true for me. And if I'm doing well now, why would I go to school?"

  He turns to look at me, and I see the excitement in his eyes. He likes talking about stuff like this. That by itself is so weird to me. I hardly ever talk about my future if I can help it. Will, on the other hand, seems excited by it.

  "So you do work online?"

  "Mhm. I do a lot of stuff. I run a couple of blogs, and I make money in a couple different ways doing that."

  "But that can't be super consistent from month to month, right?"

  "True. Some months are better than others, but I've built myself up where it's always more than I need. And living in my van, I spend way less than I would if I had an apartment."

  "Really?" I ask, disbelief evident in my voice.

  He nods. "Sure, there are repairs from time to time, but I'm pretty handy. My dad taught me a bunch, and he knows people who can get me cheap parts. If I'm on the road, I'm pretty good about finding stuff too. The most expensive part was buying my van, but that's almost paid off. And everything in my van, I've done myself."

  "So you really don't worry about being like…secure?"

  We've been walking for a couple blocks now. Ahead of us, there is a playground. The familiar blue slide and swing sets stand out to me. Behind the slide, there is a whole jungle gym. A kid's dream come true, though the playground is completely empty.

  "We're going to our elementary school?" I ask.

  Will nods. "When's the last time you've been here?"

  "Elementary school?"

  "I do my best thinking when I'm here. Reminds me of simpler times. And I remember how much you used to like to swing."

  I blush, and instantly, I am taken back. I am a child again. It's before school, and I am swinging ridiculously high on the set. I feel like I am flying when I get to the top. My mind is lost in the clouds, daydreaming.

  "You remember that?" I ask.