Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Ella's POV:

I left Declan's a little over an hour ago. My mom wanted to see me and I didn't want her to know I was hanging out with a boy. So I left.

When I left Declan's I had to admit I was a bit proud of myself for not being socially awkward. Being around people I don't really know, usually gives me super bad anxiety. My hands will sometimes tremble slightly when I'm asked a question, and my thoughts are normally jumbled to the point where I can't think clearly.

But with Declan, I don't have those feelings. Yes, he makes me nervous, but a different kind of nervous. He doesn't make me feel like I have to hide, when I'm with him it's like he encourages me to be myself. He doesn't make me feel judged.

Now I'm currently in my room putting away my clothes and listening to music. My mom hates when my clothes basket is full, sometimes I don't actually put it away until it starts overflowing. When it gets to that point I, unfortunately, have to put it away, but only do it because I hate wrinkly clothes.

Normally when I put away my clothes, I usually clean my room too. It's not that my room's messy in that sense, it's just that I like it when my room is vacuumed regularly and the shelves are dust-free. So my room's never messy per se because I hate a messy room.

If I don't clean my room when I feel it needs to be vacuumed or something, the thought sticks in my head until I do. It's like I have to do it or I legit can't relax. So generally Saturdays are my 'cleaning' days, sometimes I don't bother or hold off depending on my mood.

Right now I'm listening to a new playlist I just made, full of Harry Styles, Shawn Mendes, and Bruno Mars.

When I'm finished with my room, I go downstairs to get a bottled water. I'm a little hungry too but my mom is making dinner and if I grab a snack, my mom will be sure to tell me it will spoil supper. So I guess my poor stomach will have to wait.

Feeling bored, I peek into Thomas's room through the crevice of the door. He's to no surprise playing the xbox with his friends as usual. I swear he lives on that thing when he's home.

My mom has a new boyfriend and has invited him over for dinner. Most people would be excited but not me, meeting new people was not in my area of expertise. In fact, I detest it. It gives me super anxiety and considering I have to make a good impression, the pressure is kind of panic building.

I hope whoever he is, he doesn't try to get to know me. I'm not a talker, especially when it's about myself. Sometimes I feel like if I talk about myself or any of my accomplishments of sorts, it's being self-centered or it's annoying. So I don't

Thomas, on the other hand, will probably talk up a storm, he can talk to anyone, anywhere. What I call a social butterfly, completely unlike me. I wish I was like that, but when people talk to me I get nervous and don't know what to end up saying back. Most of the time I nod my head and smile. If I try to talk, the words don't come outright.

Honestly, the idea of my mom having a boyfriend bothers me more than I'd like to admit. It feels like a replacement, and I don't like that.

For dinner my mom decided on making chicken alfredo, most people like it and hers specifically is amazing. My mother's cooking is pretty bomb, but me, I didn't inherit the gene. I don't really care though because I hate cooking, it's just boring and time-consuming.

I asked my mom if I could eat upstairs and she could just pretend I wasn't home. She scuffed and said, I'll be fine. My little ounce of hope that she would say yes, was shattered.

"Ella go upstairs and get cleaned up, oh, and put on something nice." My mom tells me, stirring the food.

"Define nice, because I'm not wearing a dress," I reply sharply.

"Just look presentable, and drop the attitude. You'll be fine." She says, her voice stern.

I can't help it when I childishly mock her in my head.

She knows how I get around people I don't know. My body becomes all sweaty and I tend to shift uncomfortably in my seat. Sometimes my lungs close up and it's hard to breathe. She has no idea how uneasy I feel because she's never felt it herself.

I hate that I always feel alone like I'm so incredibly different and nobody feels what I feel. It's almost like I'm locked, suffocating and there's no way out. My mom wanted me to be on medication, but I refused. I didn't want to feel like I was floating, I just wanted to feel safe and she didn't understand that.

Trudging my way up the stairs, I think about how dreadful this dinner is going to be. With my atrocious social anxiety, this is going to be a complete wreck. Somehow I slowly managed to put on some black leggings with a cute purple sweater, dressing up really wasn't my thing.

In the bathroom, I brush my hair while putting on a little mascara. I never wear makeup, it doesn't interest me but I have to look quote on quote "presentable". I pull back some of my hair and bobby pin it in the front, good enough.

I drag myself to the stairs, and unhurriedly make my way down them. No need to rush my anxiety when it will be full force in a minute. As I reach the last couple of steps, a deep baritone voice fills my ears, causing my feet to freeze in place. This must be my mom's new boyfriend.

My mom is already laughing, as Thomas tells some story I can't quite hear. See they don't need me, they are already doing just fine without me. But my mom would throw a fit if I didn't show up. So somewhere inside me, I find the courage to come out of hiding on the stairs.

As I enter everyone turns to me.

I see him almost instantly, my mom's boyfriend. He dressed in dark washed jeans and a button-up shirt, his jet black hair slicked and his blue eyes dark. His jaw was sharp and his cheekbones high, he stood at a very tall height looking both strong and lean. As much as I didn't want to, I had to admit he was handsome.

"You must be Ella," He states, voice deep. "your mom has told me so much about you." He informs me, I'm guessing to be polite.

I nod my head, my hands folded together tightly. This guy seemed kind of intimidating with his well-groomed hair and clothes, and his features sharp yet still good looking.

"Don't mind her, she's just shy." My brother Thomas says, trying to help me out.

"I'm Julian." The man says.

I give him a nervous smile and mumble, "Umm hi."

I already don't like this, I feel so out of place and just want to run out of the room. I'm so pathetic.

Julian and my mom share a look. Then suddenly my mom breaks off the awkwardness, by saying, "Let's eat."

I take my seat next to Thomas, while my mom and Julian sit next to each other. Everyone fills their plates with the delicious smelling food. I wait until everybody gets their food, and only then do I get mine. I always get my food last so I don't have to worry about bumping into somebody's arm while getting it.

Thomas, my mom, and Julian talk comfortably while eating as I pick at my food quietly. I don't want any attention on me. So if I just be quiet, maybe they will forget I'm even here.

My hands are a little shaky as I pick up the pasta and place it into my mouth. This would be more enjoyable if my mom had just let me eat in my room by myself, but no I had to be here.

Thomas and Julian are talking about football which I'm not at all really interested in. So I find it safe to zone out for a bit.

My mind wanders to Declan, what is doing right now? He's probably with Wes or something, or maybe he's partying. My brother would probably be at a party right now if we didn't have this dinner.

"Ella," My mom says, intervening my thoughts. "Julian asked you a question."

My head lifts up as my cheeks flaring to life, "O-oh, sorry." I stutter. This is why you shouldn't zone out.

I rub my sweaty palms together under the table, wiping the sweat off on my leggings.

"It's fine. I asked, ''Do you play any sports?" Julian repeats, watching me with interest like he genuinely wants to know.

Of course, he would ask this, he and Thomas were just talking about sports. To my outstanding luck, now the conversation has to backfire on me.

"Not anymore," I mutter, instantly uncomfortable. I hate talking about why I don't play soccer anymore. Well, I don't talk about it, when someone asks, I kinda just brush it off. That was the old me when I didn't suffer from social anxiety.

My mom and Thomas visibly tense as soon as they hear the question come out of Julian's mouth. Right now would be a good time to leave and run to the safety of my room, but that would be rude.

Thankfully my mom buts in. "Ella got injured and decided to not play after that."

"Oh, what happened?" Julian asks curiously.

Why couldn't he just accept my mom's answer, isn't that enough? Why push it when I clearly don't want to talk about it.

My nerves spike, my hands twitch, and my eyes blur. If I don't get out of here, I'm going to have a nervous breakdown. Standing up, I quickly push in my chair and at the same time pick up my phone.

"Excuse me," I mumble abruptly, tears threatening to fall. I quickly stride to the key hook grabbing my keys, then waste no time heading out the door.

"Ella wait." My mom yells, trying to stop me. But she gets cut off as I slam the door shut. Nope, there was no way I was going back in there, no way.

I practically run to my truck and once there, waste no time driving away. As I drive my heart pounds in my chest, tears staining my cheeks. Unwanted emotions erupt to the surface.

Memories flood my brain, images I don't want to remember.

I drive to the town park. My safe place.

Pulling into the town park, I twist the key, turning off the ignition. My head drops into my shaky hands on top of the steering wheel. Uncontrolled hiccups fall from my lips, jolting me every couple of seconds.

Why, why did he have to ask that question? Everything was perfectly fine until he asked that stupid question. That topic is something I don't ever talk about, my family knows it's absolutely off-limits. Nobody brings it up because when they do, I lose it.

My heart hammers wildly in my rib cage, my lungs straining for air. A panic attack fighting to swallow me up.

Reaching over, I pull the handle of my truck door, swinging it open so I can hop out. When I'm out I try my best to inhale the fresh air, hoping the fire in my lungs will decrease.

As I carefully breathe in the air, my feet carry me by memory to my spot on the swings. My hands wipe furiously at my face, swiping away the falling tears. This is my go-to place when I need to be alone to calm myself down. It's been a while since the last time I've been here though.

On the swing, I sway slowly back and forth. A cool breeze tears through my sweater, my skin feeling a bit chilly. Gradually my heart rate falls back to normal and my lungs begin to work again.

The dark sky is uninhabited by stars, clouds keeping the yellow illumination from showing. Even the moon can not be seen.

Time passes, the sky blackens, and the quiet amplifies. Still, I sit swaying on the swing, having no intention of going home.

After a while of quiet, the sound of crunching grass reaches my ears. My eyes gaze up ahead squinting, trying to make out the figure walking this way. As they get closer, I identify him as my brother Thomas. He sits on the swing next to me, a sad expression set on his face.

I don't bother to say anything, letting us sit in silence. He found me, of course, he did. This is where I come when I have bad days. Thomas would always come and try to cheer me up.

"I'm sorry Ella. If I knew talking about sports would have led to that question, I would have never brought it up." Thomas apologizes, his tone soft.

"It's fine," I mutter, but it doesn't make me feel better.

"No it's not, and I'm really sorry." He says, his voice full of sincerity.

"Thomas I know you didn't mean it. But I just want to be alone right now." I tell him, not trying to be rude. I just want to be alone.

Thomas stands up slowly, he comes to me and gives me a hug "Okay... but Ella, just don't stay out too late." He pauses for a second "It's not your fault you know." He then gives me one last glance before walking away.

New tears start to roll down my face once again. He knows I blame it on myself, but I can't help it. Everybody tells me it's not my fault, but it is. I know it is.

A sob tumbles out of my mouth, all these emotions wanting to rip me apart. My elbows fall on top of my knees, my hands holding my head, tugging at my hair.

It is my fault. It is, it is, it is.

My body shakes as the cold air stings my skin, goosebumps arising.

Sometimes I wish I could disappear, you know just escape. I'm sick of feeling this way, I hate it, so so much.

More time passes, how much? I have no clue. The thought of going home has my stomach twisting, I can't, I can't go home. What if Julian's still there? There is no way I can face my mom either.

This is so embarrassing, Julian probably thinks I'm a little kid who runs away from her problems. But it's true, I don't like people seeing me break down so I leave and come here. This is my safe spot.

A crunch sounds behind me, thinking it's a squirrel, I ignore it.

"Ellie?"

That voice has me violently wiping at my face, trying to rid myself of the ugly tears. I try to hold in my sniffles so he can't know I'm crying. Declan can't see me like this. What's he doing here?

Before I can pull myself together, he's already in front of me.

"H-hi," I mumble, trying to keep my voice even. Maybe he won't notice I'm crying since it's dark out.

He kneels in front of me, eyes searching my face. "Are you crying?" His voice comes out soft.

That question breaks me apart, even though I try so hard not to let it. I break down into tears again, I try to stop them but I can't, they won't stop. I don't want Declan to see me like this, to see me cry. He's going to think I'm a crybaby.

Warm arms pull me up off the swing, embracing me in a tight hug. I cry into Declan's chest, my salty tears dampening his shirt. I feel bad as his shirt becomes wet, but I can't stop the leaking from my eyes.

Declan rubs my back. "Shh, I'm right here." He coos.

My grip tightens around him all the while he just holds me, whispering comforting words into my ear. My tears begin to lessen until no more will come out.

"It's going to be alright."He murmurs. My body jolts with hiccups that I can't control. Being wrapped in his arms makes me feel not so alone. As he holds me here in the dark, all my horrible memories fade.

He doesn't complain.

We stand like this for a long time, him just holding me in the comfort of his strong arms. I sniffle into his shoulder, not wanting to move. Nobody ever hugs me because I don't like them, but Declan's hug felt perfect.

He pulls away, so he can look at me. "What happened Ellie?" He asks, voice gentle.

"I-I don't want to talk about it," I mutter, turning my head away.

Declan doesn't push me on it, he just nods his head. Which I appreciate more than he knows. If it were my mom, she would push me to tell her.

"It's late Ellie, why don't I bring you home." He suggests.

I shake my head, "I don't want to go home." I whisper.

Home is the last place I want to go.

My mom will want to know where I went, and she will want to comfort me if I go home. I don't want it. She'll tell me this is getting out of hand, and that I should talk to someone. That's the last thing I want.

"Alright, then we'll go to my house," Declan says, taking my hand and leading me to his car. Warmth sparks throughout my body at his touch.

"What about my truck?" I murmur.

"We can get it tomorrow." He assures.

Declan drives us to his apartment. I look out the window watching the trees as we pass them. We're both very quiet which I'm grateful for, I don't want to have another breakdown. It was already embarrassing enough that Declan had seen me cry.

I hear the hum of the music and lean my head against the window. My eyes shut trying to relax, exhaustion suddenly hitting me. Soon enough I drift off.

"We're here Lil' one." Declan's voice wakes me up.

I flutter my eyes open for a second, but they are so heavy, and without my control, they close again. All I want to do is sleep.

The passenger door opened, a soft chuckle filling my sleepy ears. An arm crosses over me, unbuckling my seat belt with a click. The next thing I know, I'm being lifted bridal style by strong arms.

Minutes later after the thud of steps, I feel myself being placed onto something soft, warmth engulfing me.

"Ellie" Declan whispers.

My eyes manage to peak open slightly, just wanting to sleep.

He hands me a shirt. "Put this on." He murmurs, then walks into the bathroom shutting the door.

With Declan in the bathroom, I take the opportunity to put on the shirt he gave me. I peel off my clothes tiredly and lift his shirt above my head. His shirt smells like heaven, the fabric almost reaching my knees. I climb back into his bed and snuggle under his blankets.

Declan comes out with a pair of athletic shorts and no shirt. He walks over to the bed and climbs under the covers.

Even tired, my cheeks heat up. He wants to sleep with me?

"My shirt looks good on you," Declan whispers close to my ear.

I squirm a little bit, suddenly very hot under the covers. He, to no surprise, chuckles at my reaction.

"Declan, thank you," I mumble, my voice lilting off.

"You don't have to thank me Lil' one, I will always be there for you."

I smile at that, and for some reason, I just know what he said is true. When he smiles back though, my heart skips.

"You have a pretty smile," I mumble, immediately feeling stupid after.

"Yeah? So do you, my little Ellie."