Chapter 20
Colton
The past few days have been a blur of breakfasts, cowboy training sessions with the boys and trail rides with Ellie. When I’m not busy with Edmund and George, or getting to know Ellie a little better, I’m on video calls with Wyatt and Meemaw. Preparations for his prom have taken up a lot of my free time, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Ellie has been a blessing, she’s helped me with making calls and sending emails—she even managed to find a rental place in Fort Worth that had a London style double decker bus. Wyatt, his friends, and his date were really over the moon about that one.
Meemaw’s hearing aid has been playing up, so I told her to stay away from the phone, Ellie and I have handled everything. A few times, she’s made phone calls for me and referred to me as her client . In her fancy British accent, she can usually get whatever she wants with a few extras thrown in.
We’ve sorted Wyatt’s tux, the bus, a barbershop appointment and a nice photographer. If I can’t be there, I sure as hell want some nice photos taken of the night. I know Meemaw will have me on a video call, but I don’t trust her not to film her forehead the entire time.
My chest aches if I think about not being there and sending him off, waiting anxiously for him to get home or text me about an after party he’s going to.
A grape hits me in the cheek, tearing me from my thoughts as Rory says, “You two get everything sorted then?” All four of us, by some stroke of magic, found ourselves with an hour to spare this morning. Sanya and Ellie ransacked the kitchen while Rory and I got the horses ready for a trail ride picnic.
We settled on a picnic spot just south of the grazing pastures, setting our gingham blanket near a patch of blooming wildflowers. The horses are happily milling about nearby while we snack and catch up.
Earlier in the week, Rory told me that Sanya had been getting onto him about the cute rides that Ellie and I have been going on. I shake my head with a smile as I recall the rides we’ve taken, the deep subject matter we’ve discussed and unpacked over the past few days. Not exactly date material, and I don’t think either of us would describe them as cute.
But I love talking to Ellie, not just because she’s beautiful or because her laughter sounds like notes played from the world’s most delicate instrument, but because she listens. It never feels like she’s waiting for me to stop talking, to stop sharing my feelings. I really feel like she cares. I’ve always considered myself a good listener, but it’s so easy to open up to Ellie. When I talk, it feels like she’s absorbing every last word, like she takes them and turns them over in her soft palms, deciphering every last meaning before she responds.
“Yes, nosy.” Ellie chides with a laugh. “The big night’s tonight,” She turns her head towards me. She’s lying on her stomach, feet kicked up in the air, head resting in her hands as her hair flows freely over her shoulders.
I feel my breath catch in my throat at her sheer beauty.
“Is Wyatt nervous?” She asks with a curious smile. They’ve met on the phone more than a handful of times this week and they hit it off like a house on fire. It was like two long-lost friends reconnecting after years apart.
“Of course he is,” Sanya cuts in before taking a bite of her sandwich, “Don’t you remember being seventeen? He’s a boy though, and you’re all full of that weird over-confidence, even at a young age.”
“I’ve never been over-confident a day in my life.” Rory shoots back with a wink.
“Doesn’t sound like you at all,” I agree before focusing my attention on Ellie again, “He’s an anxious guy, but I think he’s looking forward to it. He’s real grateful for all the help this week, and my Meemaw wants you all to know that you’re all welcome to come and stay at the ranch if you ever find yourselves in Texas.”
I’ve barely finished talking before Rory blurts, “I’m so there.” His face is serious as a heart attack, and I can’t help but laugh .
“Aw, you two can have a romantic ranch reunion. Brokeback mountain style.” Sanya teases, earning a barrage of tickles from Rory.
“I love that movie.” Ellie whispers under her breath, pouting her bottom lip for a second before smiling at me.
“Alright, alright,” Sanya concedes as Rory backs off, “We’re getting sidetracked from this game, and it was just getting fun.” She catches her breath before continuing, “Who’s turn was it to ask a truth?”
Ellie had suggested we play as a group after explaining how much she’s enjoyed playing truths with me over the past week. Rory, in true Rory-fashion, turned it into a game of truth or dare which we’ve been playing for about twenty minutes. Ellie shot me an apologetic look just as we were starting the game, as if she felt bad for sharing something private. I’d given her a reassuring smile and a shake of my head.
There were no apologies necessary. This friend group is tight knit, real special, I’m happy to gain truths from all of them—to get to know them better. I wish we all had more time to spend together like this, but I’ll take whatever we can get at this point.
“It was my turn,” Rory declares, “Now, which one of yous do I want a truth from, or a wicked dare.” He narrows his eyes, gaze flicking between the three of us on the picnic blanket.
Unsurprisingly, he settles on Sanya. “Tell me, my love, who’s the most handsome Irishman you’ve ever laid eyes on? ”
Sanya ponders for a moment, chewing thoughtfully as Ellie supplies, “Didn’t we meet Cillian Murphy at that charity Gala, San? The actor? Blue eyes, nice smile, great arse—”
“That’s enough out of you!” Rory points a finger in Ellie’s direction, and we all fall about laughing.
Sanya collects herself enough to answer, “While we did meet Cillian Murphy a few years ago, I would still have to begrudgingly choose you.” Rory leans in with a smile and presses a kiss to her lips. “Were you hoping I chose the dare instead of revealing the truth?” She whispers into his lips, Ellie and I turn our attention to the wildflowers while they exchange a few more hushed whispers.
“OK,” Sanya breathes as she puts a little distance between herself and Rory, “My turn, and I think I want a truth from you, Miss Stirling.” She smirks, tapping a finger against her lips in thought before continuing, “Who do you love more, me or Remi?” She barely makes it through the question, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
“Well, Remi never asks me difficult questions like this.” Ellie giggles as she peels her orange. “I love you both equally...”
“Such a nonanswer!” Sanya cries, “Do you choose dare?”
Ellie shakes her head with a smile, “If the dare involves losing any clothing items, just know that I didn’t have time to throw a bra on—you’ll all be getting an eyeful.”
“Noted,” Sanya says with a wink. Rory leans forward and they whisper into each other’s ears for a few seconds before Sanya decides, “I dare you to text a photo to your ex.”
“A photo of what?” Ellie’s smiling face becomes confused, “And I only have one ex—”
“A selfie,” Sanya continues with a wicked smile, “Of you giving Colton a kiss on the cheek. Just something innocent that’ll ruin Peter’s entire week.”
“San,” Ellie laughs in disbelief, “You’re so cruel and childish, but also kind of brilliant.” She turns to where I sit opposite her on the picnic blanket, “Only if it’s alright with you.”
I nod, “I’m so game.”
Sanya and Rory clap their hands excitedly as Ellie fishes her phone from her pocket and sets her half-peeled orange down on her paper plate. She shuffles over to sit next to me, and I feel my body lean into hers as she angles her phone in front of us.
She turns her head to me, voice soft as a feather as she breathes, “Are you sure this is alright—”
“Yes.” I answer too quickly, “It might help you to keep fucknuts at bay for the rest of the summer. Happy to help.” I wink, marveling at the smile that blooms across her face.
She glances back at the camera, making sure we’re both in the shot before slowly inching her face towards me. It feels slow, at least, and I have to stop myself from moving my cheek towards her lips.
When she makes contact, my body reacts in a way I can’t control and I’m thankful for the paper plate that’s sitting in my lap. Her lips are soft against the rough stubble on my face, and I’m worried she’ll recoil, but she doesn’t—she presses every inch of her full lips to my skin and brings her free hand up to cup the bottom of my chin. Her fingers smell like orange zest, and I try to focus on that instead of her proximity to me.
I’m trying so hard to keep my cool, to make sure I have a calm, collected smile in the photos. But all I want to do is ask her to kiss my lips instead of my cheek.
She snaps about ten photos in all before she removes herself from my face, her hand falls away from my chin and I fight the urge to lunge for it. My cheek feels cold and bare at the loss of her lips. She angles her phone so we can both see the photos as she flicks through them, and my hopes of any retakes are dashed when I see that they all came out perfectly.
“I like this one.” She brings the phone closer to our faces, waiting for my confirmation before sending it—I realize.
I’m unsurprised to see that I have a dumb smile on my face, even more unsurprised to see how flawless she looks in the photo. I didn’t realize there was a gentle breeze blowing, but her hair flows over her shoulders like she’s in a shampoo commercial. She’s gripping my chin delicately with her fingers, as if she’s having to make me sit still to take the photo.
“That’s a winner,” I say with a smile, “Total week-wrecker.”
She laughs in agreement before sharing the photo with Peter. I watch her type a quick follow-up text.
Ellie: Oops, wrong person. Sorry!
She winks at me before scooting back to her spot on the opposite side of the blanket.
Ellie uses her turn to ask Sanya if Gordy really had to be put on a diet plan or if it was just stable gossip, which Sanya begrudgingly confirms is true before everyone’s attention falls on me.
I’ve had a couple truths stored up to ask Rory and Sanya, mundane things like do you prefer England or Ireland and what’s it really like to live with Ellie 24/7 . But I use my turn to ask Ellie a truth instead.
“I’ve got one for you,” I nod my head in her direction with a smile. She raises her eyebrows and pops a segment of orange into her mouth. “What’s something you enjoy doing? Something that doesn’t have anything to do with horses or dressage . Something that’s fun, or made you happy in the past.”
A puzzled expression grows on her face as she thinks, a few moments pass by before she opens her mouth, “Do you know, I—I can’t think of anything. My mind is blank.” She lets out a small laugh, “My life has been so full of horse-related exploits since before I can even remember. There’s never been much time for anything else... although,” She tilts her head, as if remembering something, “I suppose I’ve always loved to draw, to paint, but I’ve never been much good at it— ”
“El, you’re a fantastic artist.” Sanya releases the words as if she’s been fighting to keep silent since I asked the question, “You used to hide your sketchbooks in my room at your house in case your mother found them, I’ve seen all of your drawings, your little paintings—even your doodles look like they should be hung on a wall somewhere.”
Yesterday, she mentioned the coloring books that her dad would gift her, so this makes perfect sense.
“And you don’t enjoy doing that anymore?” I ask.
“I just don’t have the time, and mother doesn’t like it. I joined a club at university, and we’d go around testing different mediums, sketching things from architecture to real people. Mother found out when I came home late one day and I never went back, she says it’s a waste of my time and that there are other things to be doing.” She looks up and meets my gaze, “But, perhaps, I should make some time... I’m not sure when, but it used to be something I could lose myself in for a couple of hours. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it.”
“Maybe you could show me the ropes,” I hedge, “I’ve been known to draw a pretty mean stick man—”
“Ach,” Rory sits up, “Enough talk about arts and crafts.” He groans and we all laugh, “I’ve got a better idea.” He says mischievously before trying, and failing, to coax Sanya into rejecting his truth and requesting a dare.
I’m finally able to confidently remove the plate from my crotch as we wait for Sanya to choose her next victim.
“Colton Brooks,” She muses, I look up to find her head tilted, eyes narrowed on me, “I’d like a truth from you, this time.”
“Let’s hear it,” I grab a pastry from the plate in the middle of the blanket as I hold her stare.
“I want to know,” Her smile turns devilish, “What you think of our friend, Ellie—more specifically, are you of the opinion that she’s beautiful?”
My eyebrows raise but Sanya just smiles at me as I turn my attention to where Ellie has a slice of orange raised to her mouth—hand frozen in a similar fashion to my own.
I collect myself, try to relax my body as I focus on Ellie, “Well, I’d say I’m a big fan of Ellie’s, that’s for sure.”
How do I answer this question without revealing the fact that I’ve never been attracted to anyone in this way before? At the same time, if I refuse to answer and choose a dare, could this hurt Ellie’s feelings? This feels like a lose-lose situation, which my therapist always tells me to try and stay away from...
Surely honesty is the best policy here, but if I come off too strong, I might lose a genuine friendship. I manage to settle on starting off in neutral, platonic territory, “I think you’re incredibly caring and strong, and you love your friends fiercely. I’m happy that you’ve warmed up to me a little bit, it was looking a little rocky there at the start.” She huffs a laugh, her lips turned up in a bright smile behind the orange piece she still hasn’t eaten.
I can feel myself speaking the words before my brain can put a stop to them, “And of course I think you’re beautiful,” Alright, officially out of platonic territory—you can definitely call a friend beautiful, but my delivery is a little charged. She’s staring at me, unblinking and I’m not sure she’s breathing. I’m holding her emerald-green gaze as I continue, “I think you’re the most—”
One after another, phones start ringing from different spots on the blanket. Rory and Sanya scramble to answer theirs, but Ellie doesn’t move, not until Sanya gasps and thanks the person on the other end of the phone.
“We have to go,” Sanya stands from the blanket, Ellie finally tears her gaze from mine as Sanya breathes, “The Olympic scout just arrived.”