Becoming Ella: An Opposites Attract Romance Page 2

  Even though I'm cringing, I go on to tell her what just happened to me. Being caught staring at Will Keely through the window. By the end of my short story, Violet already looks many shades happier. And even though I was cursing the Universe earlier for not being on my side, I'm glad that my bad experience gives Violet something to laugh about.

  "You creeper!" she shrieks, laughing hard. "That's so funny. Thank you for telling me that. We're definitely going to have to add that to the list."

  "Where do you think we should put it? For this summer, I think that it's probably right under the time I split my scrubs at work."

  Violet and I giggle thinking of the time I called her, mortified, from a bathroom at work and showed her my ass and granny panties that had been exposed when I went to squat down and my scrubs split down the middle.

  "As funny as that was, it's definitely not funnier than your thing with Will," Violet says, cackling.

  It makes me feel better to see her feeling better. We talk for another half hour, sharing funny stories and reminiscing on fun times. She tells me the last couple of things she had to catch me up on, and I tell her the things I've been up to. Which are always the same.

  Near the end of the conversation, I can see that her eyelids are heavy. She settles further back into bed.

  "Thanks for answering and talking to me, EllyBelly. Talking with you always helps."

  "Of course, V. You know I'm always here for you."

  Violet nods, a small, sad smile on her face. "I love you, babe. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

  We say our goodnights and goodbyes, and then we hang up. After I place my phone on the charger on my nightstand, I look back over my lap and see that my laptop screen still has BookCookie on it. My heart speeds up when I see the number of notifications I have.

  I have fifty new hearts on my most recent chapter of Because of You, thirty new comments, and a dozen new messages. I take my time going through and responding to everyone.

  People say that they love the latest chapter and that the steaminess was just the right amount. I note that and take notes on the other constructive criticism people have.

  Some people say that they wish that Kya was more on the way to being herself already. My story is about a high school senior, Kya, who is an undercover star on a free writing website. A lot of Kya is who I wish I had been in my last year of high school. Someone more like Violet. A wilder person who took life by the balls and went after exactly what they want. However, she's not like that right now. The story is about her journey to becoming more like that.

  On the writing website she uploads to, Kya is seen as this fierce and ballsy author, but in real life, she is really someone with an anxiety disorder who has a crush on the star quarterback of her high school, Felix.

  It's the fifth story that I've uploaded to BookCookie, and it's by far my most popular. Every day I get dozens of people telling me that they can't wait for the next chapter and sending me messages of encouragement.

  I know that it's probably a waste of time, but I love uploading my writing on BookCookie. After a long day of wiping asses and getting screamed at by patients, coming home and escaping into my own worlds and living through characters is the perfect escape. I wish that I had more time to do it.

  When I was younger, I always dreamed of being an author. But of course, I learned very quickly that that's not something most people can do. My mother always told me if I tried to be an author, my life would be full of struggle and hardships. It terrified me, and that's when writing and dreaming of becoming an author got put on the backburner. And rightfully so. My mother was right. The path I'm on now is much more logical - much more correct.

  I know that right now, I should be using this time to do more studying for school, but every part of me craves to dive into the scene where I last left Kya and Felix. The chapter before, Felix discovered Kya's writing profile, and she was coming up with a way to blackmail him into making sure that her secret didn't get out. I feel myself clench up writing through her anxieties.

  It's another part of Kya's story that I heavily relate to. Even though I put my writing up on BookCookie, I do it under a fake name. And I haven't told anyone in my life that I do it. Not even Violet knows. And so, like Kya, I would freak out if anyone were to find out. I want to keep my writing and stories part of the dream world that I can escape to and enjoy for a little bit when things get tough. Other people knowing about it would ruin the escape.

  As I move on to write Felix's point of view, I realize that the clanging outside is slowing down. Will and his dad must be packing up for the night.

  My brain drifting back to Will for only a second makes my heart skip a beat, and I hate that the event causes that kind of reaction in me. It's stupid. I should just forget about it. The only thing that's more of a waste of time than writing my stories is spending time thinking about Will Keely.

  Even when I hear the heavy doors of his van opening and closing, I don't let my fingers stop flying over the keys. Eventually, my energy dies down. My eyes are starting to close as I write the scene where Felix tells Kya that he accepts her no matter what and that she shouldn't hide from her dreams. That she's a fantastic writer.

  When I slide my laptop onto the floor near my pillow, reality starts to set in again.

  I lay my tired head back on my pillow and start thinking through what I'm going to be doing tomorrow.

  Another twelve-hour day of work. Another day of wiping butts, getting vitals, and trying to make it through a day without breaking down in tears. I make sure my alarm is set on my phone before I allow myself to fully settle back and let my mind drift off to the same happier lands it usually does before sleep.

  Lands where I am more like people like Violet and Will. A world where I write for a living and don't dread waking up the next day.

  I know that they're impractical, but it's nice to allow myself those few moments of daydreaming before sleep consumes me.

  3

  The next morning, I scramble through my bed, searching for my trilling alarm clock as it blares its horrifying, gut-wrenching song. When I find my phone, I quickly turn it off.

  I wish that I could go back to when I was younger and summer meant sleeping in, lazy mornings, scratch that, lazy days, and no responsibilities.

  Groaning, I rub my eyes. When I finally drifted to sleep last night, I felt bone-tired, and now, I still feel exhausted.

  Today is going to be my second day of three. I like to schedule myself that way to have the rest of the week off after knocking out my required shifts.

  Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I shiver as the cool morning summer air attacks my bare skin. I appreciate the quiet and the time I take to stretch. Probably the only time I'll have to myself until I get back home in thirteen hours or so.

  I spot my laptop on the floor next to my bed. I remember the night before and how many words I got down in the world of Felix and Kya. Oh how I wish that I could be spending my day doing that.

  After I am decently awake, I begin readying myself for my shift. I pull on my loose pair of teal scrubs and cinch them tight around my waist. I've lost weight from when I first started working as a CNA, but scrubs are expensive. I don't want to shell out more money on something that's going to get dirty anyway.

  Because it's going to be in the mid-70s today, I decide on a thin long-sleeve. I clip my badge to my shirt, fill my right upper pocket with two pens, and slide a headband over my forehead. I confine my curls to their bun prison and pull my long compression socks up.

  I can hear my mom snoring across the hall as I pad over to the bathroom, where I brush my teeth. Sometimes I have enough motivation to do makeup before a shift, but today is not one of those days.

  Next, I make my way into the kitchen, where I pack my lunch. I fill up my thermos with fresh coffee and pack a bagel sandwich. I am a sucker for anything bagel.

  I tuck my packed lunch into my backpack. Inside of it already are two books and random things for s
chool that I could work on should today be one of those rare, magical days that I'm not constantly busy.

  When every box in my morning routine is checked, the sun is just starting to come up. I take a moment as I lock the door behind me to watch as slowly everything around me lightens. I sip my warm coffee and take a deep breath of the fresh summer air.

  As an adult, I don't think that summer is my favorite season anymore. However, I still appreciate it when it rolls around. Anything beats the harsh Midwest winters, that's for sure.

  I live about three blocks from the hospital. When it's nice out, I walk; it's less than thirty minutes. It's a great time to listen to my favorite podcasts or some music and is overall a good start to my day. I only drive in if it's raining or it's winter.

  Just as I am turning around my house, I see Will. He is running, wearing a gray shirt that's soaked in sweat and a pair of mesh navy blue shorts. His hair is slicked back and hidden by a dark blue baseball cap. My gut clenches at the sight of him. I am catapulted back to last night and our awkward encounter. I hope he doesn't say anything and just nods politely so I can nod back and keep walking.

  I pull the straps on my backpack tighter, taking my new anxiety and nerves out on them. I should fumble in my bag and get my earbuds. He would get that means I am not, under any circumstances, interested in any kind of socializing.

  But with my luck, we would end up with another incident where I spill my entire backpack in front of him. When we were younger, it wasn't so bad, but today, it would be a cringe attack because I was caught staring at him the night before.

  Before I can decide what to do or pretend that I forgot something and scramble back home, Will has already cleared most of the distance between us.

  By this point, we are only a couple of feet away. He's on the right side, and I'm on the left. I don't know what to do. If it were up to me, nothing would happen. But of course, Will and I are polar opposites.

  "What's up, Eileen?"

  Anxiety spreads through my entire body. I clench my backpack tighter, willing myself to not come off as an even bigger idiot. Although I'm not sure how much stupider I could look considering he caught me staring at him last night.

  "Just headed to work. What about you?"

  I hope that came out sounding better to him than it did to me.

  He closes the distance even more between us by walking over to my side of the road. He stops when we are just a foot apart. My heart pounds faster, and something stirs in my stomach. It's stupid that he has this effect on me.

  "Just getting back from my run. I love running when the sun comes up," he says, the same smile from last night on his face.

  This close, I can see part of why people spoke so highly of him in high school. His smile is so bright, and it feels so genuine. Although if we didn't live on the same block, I doubt that he would even remember my name. That's just a sliver of what different worlds we're from.

  Will stares at me, waiting for me to say something.

  "How do you even shower in that thing when you're on the road?" I blurt out.

  I want to kick myself.

  What an awkward, weird question to ask.

  I've barely spoken ten words to him since he's been back, and now I'm asking him about his shower habits.

  And I got caught staring at him last night. I don't think I could come off as any more of a creep than I already have.

  Twice now, in less than twenty-four hours, I have embarrassed myself in front of Will Keely.

  While it is a legit question — he's at least six feet tall -- it's painfully awkward that I asked.

  In our entire lives, we have never had much more than a couple of conversations. The most we've ever spoken of was small talk about various teachers or other things happening in school.

  I'm sure that he can see how hard I'm blushing, which is another reason why I want to pretend to have forgotten something and run back to my house. Every emotion shows on my fair skin quickly and clearly, and I've always hated how exposed that makes me.

  Will laughs, taking my awkward question in stride. "Well, since I'm back home, I'm just going to shower at my dad's. When I'm on the road, I have this gym membership that lets me go to any branch in the country. The majority of them have pretty good showers. So I usually shower at the gym."

  "Doesn't that get inconvenient?" I ask, unable to stop the question from tumbling out. It's so not practical; I can't even fathom.

  "Honestly, not really. I like to work out every day, and so it works for me."

  He smiles at me again, and then the silence spans between us.

  For probably the millionth time in my life, I wish that I was one of those people who found it easier to talk to other people, like Violet. All of my life, I have been known as the quiet kid. I've always despised that description, but it's accurate. I never know what to say to people I don't know well.

  Usually, I don't care. But for some reason, I care about it now talking to Will. He clearly finds it easy to talk to everyone.

  "Do you work at Silver Lake Community Hospital?" he asks, breaking the silence.

  "Yea, on the cardiac unit."

  "So do you work twelves? Eights?"

  "Twelves."

  He grimaces. "Yuck. I feel for you, man. My mom was a nurse, and she was dead to the world after a twelve-hour. She always talked about wanting to switch to eights."

  I nod along with him, again unable to think of something to say. It wouldn't be appropriate to tell him sorry for his mom. She died a long time ago, and I don't know him like that. And I also don't want to talk about work. Also, he called me man.

  "Yea, eights would be heavenly," I say.

  I inwardly cringe at the awkward small talk, although Will looks entirely at ease.

  "I have to get going, though. I don't want to be late."

  "You want a ride?" he asks casually.

  The stirring in my stomach happens again. It annoys me. I hate that stupid feeling, and it's entirely unnecessary in this situation.

  "That's okay. It's nice out, and I like to walk."

  "Okay. See you later," Will says, smiling again.

  "Yea, see you," I echo, even though I hope I don't.

  Twice in under twenty-four hours, I have embarrassed myself in front of Will Keely. I don't want to do it another time.

  4

  My day is a mess.

  Like usual.

  But today is more of a mess than usual.

  My unit is technically supposed to be cardiac. However, since it's the biggest unit in the hospital, we get tons of overflow. On day shift, people are constantly coming and going. Which makes things hectic, to say the least.

  All of my favorite patients from yesterday were discharged. Now in their places are patients who are not independent and, worst for me, incontinent.

  It is now three in the afternoon, only four more hours to go, and this is the first time I've sat down since clocking in. My feet ache; my stomach growls. However, I don't even feel like bringing out my lunch because I am sure that the moment I take my first bite, one of my call lights will go off.

  Instead, I go through my charting. I note everything I was too busy to record earlier and make sure everything I have written down about my patients is correct. I settle into the computer chair and let my body relax. For once, no alarm is ringing.

  When all of my charting is complete, I log out of the computer and lean back again, tilting my head back, so my neck is against the edge of the hard chair. I almost moan with how good that simple act feels.

  "Hey, Eileen," someone says near the door.

  I turn and see Jessa, one of my favorite nurses. She's looking at me apologetically. I brace myself for the bad news.

  "Sorry, girl, but can you help me clean up room sixteen again?"

  I sigh and bring myself out of my comfy chair.

  Well, that was fun while it lasted.

  Finally, it's the best part of the day—time to clock out. Shortly after, it will be the second
-best part of the day -- feeling the crisp summer night's air on my face as I walk out of the hospital. My feet squish happily in my comfy slides. I cannot wait to shower.

  Today, I am going to have to scrub myself especially hard. Near the end of my shift, sixteen had to be cleaned up again, and unfortunately, Jessa hadn't been there to help me. Instead, the only person available was a newer CNA. That would have been fine and dandy, except she smeared poop over my long sleeve when she went to throw a soiled chux in the garbage.

  Thankfully, the charge nurse was able to get me a new surgical scrub top. When everyone found out, they offered their best tips on how to get rid of the stain and smell, but the second I changed into the clean scrub top, my long sleeve went in the garbage.

  Now, instead of wearing a shirt that kind of looked good with the hideous teal scrubs we have to wear, I look like a mismatched, clashing collage of blue.

  I reach for my earbuds in the upper pocket of my backpack and pop them in. After the day I've had, I go to music. Podcasts will have to wait till tomorrow morning.

  When I get on my block, I see Will outside in his van again. Once I see him, I sigh. Another uncomfortable stirring in my stomach starts. He is the last person I want to see after the day I've had.

  Instead of being on the top of his van like last night, he has the two back doors open. This time, I can see a bit into his van. From what I can see, it actually looks pretty spacious and put together. I don't know what I expected, but it certainly wasn't what I see.

  There is light wood detailing on the ceiling and insides of the doors. His bed is large, well large for how big the van is, pushed against the back wall, neatly made, and covered with a patch quilt. His bed is lifted off the bottom of the van, and underneath it, there's shelving. I bet that it's a cozy fit with how big Will is, but maybe not as uncomfortable as I originally thought.

  Will is going through the crates under his bed. A speaker plays upbeat pop music next to him.