11. Ella
Eleven
Ella
The Bear Lodge sounded pretty cozy in theory — a cute little café sitting just off the quad with lots of natural wood to give it a rustic vibe — but in practice, it was absolutely chaotic.
The seating area was a chaotic mix of mismatched tables, high stools and deep, reclining chairs.
Old-school chalkboards listed drink specials like “Crippling Anxiety Latte” and “Finals Fuel Cold Brew.”
Yes, I enjoyed the little cringe people gave when they had to actually say those.
Yes, I took even greater pleasure in acting like I didn’t know what they were talking about when they tried to shorten or describe it instead.
Flyers covered the walls: tutoring ads, roommate requests (which have never helped me even in the slightest), and club meeting times. At least three of them featured poor graphic design and a faulty QR code.
I’d checked.
Students in sweats and backpacks were camped around the café, some of them spending hours with one drink and a guilt-stained pastry.
As it turned out, my inability to keep my mouth shut and my ability to get along with just about anyone, plus being kick-ass at balancing things on a tray, made me a reasonably good waitress.
Who would have thought?
I guess all those years of masking paid off. I could chat, crack jokes, and play “fun Ella” to the point where nobody picked up on the anxious hum under my skin.
Sometimes it worked so well I almost believed it myself.
Orders were flying tonight, forcing me to basically speed-walk around the tables to get all of my customers taken care of.
Wisps of hair were slowly escaping my ponytail, and for about the hundredth time, I blew those pesky hairs off my forehead.
Balancing two iced coffees and a tray of mozzarella sticks, I headed toward table seven. Liam. At least, that’s how I assumed it was pronounced.
Knowing my luck, it’d be something like Lie-uhm with the silent ennui at the end.
“Frat boys tipping in nickels and girls who say ‘literally’ every third word,” I muttered, grabbing a rag and sighing as I turned toward a dirty table. “Just another day in hell’s dining room.”
When things slowed down and no one was looking, I snuck sneaky glances at my phone.
I’d matched with somebody last night on one of my dating apps and was really hoping for an answer to my very creative icebreaker.
“Which planet would you eat if they were bite-sized?”
Another guy had ghosted me last week, and it had taken me a while to recover. Why did it sting more when it was someone I didn’t even want that badly?
Which planet would Hunter eat? I bet he’d choose Mars. He gave me Mars kind of vibes.
I abruptly stopped wiping, giving my head a quick shake. Why was I thinking about Hunter?
It was probably some sort of psychological thing. I’d been rejected so many times, I was fixating on someone unavailable because there was no actual risk of getting rejected again.
Sierra would know what it was called.
People only saw my confidence, how loud I was, and how happy I seemed on the outside. But it was built on a cracked foundation.
One more unanswered message and I might crumble. Or laugh hysterically. Maybe both.
Huffing, I straightened up, putting my hands on my hips and stretching my aching back. I’d already been dead on my feet after practice this morning, but this shift was really putting the nail in the coffin.
When it was finally time to clock out, I sank into a booth with a leftover cinnamon roll, scrolling on my phone. I’d forgotten to eat again, so this would have to do for now, even though it wasn’t the most nutritious.
Out of the corner of my eye, a figure passed by the window. Someone tall. My head snapped to the side to get a better look, but they were too far away to be certain.
Huh. I could’ve sworn …
***
It was late when I finally made it home, dragging myself up the stairs to our floor — why were there so many steps? — my legs feeling like lead.
I smelled like fries and coffee, my feet were aching, and for some reason I was still wearing my fucking apron, stuffed with tips and empty straw wrappers.
There was a faint clinking sound from the coins those fucking frat bros gave me.
I kicked the door open, exhaustion clinging to my bones. “Let it be known,” I muttered, “I did not go quietly. I kicked the stupid door first.”
As I lifted my gaze, the sight greeting me made me stop dead in my tracks. Sierra was pacing the living room like she’d been shot out of a cannon.
Highly unusual.
I furrowed my brows. “What the fuck is going on?” She turned my way, white as a sheet. My eyes went wide before she got the chance to answer. “Oh my God, did someone die?”
“What? No!” She shook her head rapidly. “No. Nobody died.”
“Then why do you look like a Victorian ghost who didn’t finish her business?” I finally got moving again, closing the door behind me before my bag hit the floor with a loud thud.
“I got a call.”
“I must’ve missed the memo where getting a call became a life-threatening occurrence.”
“Jesus Christ, it’s like I’m talking to Dom, just somehow worse.” Sierra pinched the bridge of her nose. “I got a call from a team in Cali. They picked me in the draft.”
“You what?!” I shrieked before barreling into her and basically tackling her with a hug. My brother would’ve been proud. “Oh my fucking God! That’s amazing! That’s … wait. Why aren’t you jumping and screaming?”
I eased back to scrutinize her.
Sierra just gave her head a little shake. “It was such a long shot. I mean, I didn’t even tell anyone because I was so sure it would only end in disappointment.”
“Are you kidding? You’re gonna go pro! You’re gonna live in California! Holy shit, you’re gonna be famous—”
I was hugging her again, like I’d just won the lottery myself.
“But this wasn’t the plan,” Sierra blurted out.
“What do you mean? I thought it’s what you wanted? To play professionally?”
She groaned, throwing her head back and exhaling through her nose. “Yes, it is. But it wasn’t the plan. I’ve never allowed myself to actually believe I’d make it.”
I recoiled and looked at her in utter disbelief. This girl was so delusional sometimes. First she thought she could out-stubborn my brother, and now this. She was born to do this.
“Well, you better start believing it fast, because this is real. I don’t get it. What’s the problem?”
She threw up her hands. “I was supposed to finish my degree first, so I’d have a safety net. If I do this, and I fuck it up, I don’t have anything to fall back on. But this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance and I—”
“Fuck the plan!” I grabbed her by the shoulders, levelling her with a stare. “Listen to me. Fuck. The. Plan. There is no fucking plan. Life could be over in a freaking second, so even if it’s scary and you’re freaking out right now, you’re gonna do it . You’d be insane not to.”
Sierra stared at me, her eyes wide. “But I—”
“No!” I held up a finger and waved it in her face. “This is your dream. You know you want to do this, so just do it.”
“But what if it goes wrong?”
“Then it goes wrong! Then you’ll find something else. You’re not alone anymore, Sierra.” I pulled her in for another hug. “We’ll be there if it all goes to shit. Which it won’t.”
“Well, at least one of us has faith in me,” she said dryly, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “But also, you’re kind of crushing my lungs here.”
I released her from my death grip. “Okay, now can we celebrate, please?”
“Fine,” Sierra groaned, then added softly, “Thank you.”
Dom showed up about half an hour later, practically bursting with pride, a massive grin on his face. Sierra had called him to break the news before I’d arrived home, and he’d hauled ass here straight after practice.
“I’m so fucking proud of you!” he roared before picking her up and twirling her around. Sierra’s surprised giggles rang through the room.
Those two shouldn’t work on paper, but in reality they were absolutely perfect for each other.
“Alright!” I clapped to garner their attention before they got swallowed up by their lovesick little bubble. “What are we doing? Where are we going? I need to know what to wear, people.”
All the tiredness I’d felt earlier was put on the back burner. This was Sierra’s big night, and we’d celebrate the shit out of it.
“It’s the middle of the week,” Sierra remarked. “Should we really—”
“Darlin’, this is a college campus,” Dom drawled, flopping onto the couch, the frame creaking under his weight. “Also, of course we should. This is huge! Don’t downplay it.”
She shot me a look that clearly said, ‘Back me up here,’ but I just snickered.
“Shouldn’t have married into the family. The Kincaids celebrate each other’s achievements.”
“We are not married!” She threw her arms in the air, all fired up.
“Yet,” Dom and I said in unison.
“I hate both of you.”
“Sure you do,” Dom said patronizingly.
“Okay, so back to the actual topic. Where are we going?” My eyes pinged from Dom to Sierra, eyebrows raised expectantly. “Oh, I know! How about that Armadillo something bar? Or was it a raccoon?”
Sierra snorted. “Do you mean the Neon Possum ?”
I pointed at her. “Yes! That one.”
“I’m in. I like that place,” my brother smirked, his heated gaze fixed on his girlfriend, whose cheeks flushed in turn.
“Right, I’m still here. Sooooo, if we could keep whatever it is you guys are thinking about contained until I’ve left the room, please and thank you.”
“Sorry.” Sierra pursed her lips, her eyes flicking away for a beat. “It’s the place where we met, that’s all.”
“Oh, right. I totally forgot. Sounds like it’s decided, then.”
“Let’s do it!” Dom sprang to his feet, making for the door already, while we hadn’t moved an inch.
“Yeahhh, I’m not going out like this.” Sierra said dryly, while I nodded in agreement. “Sit back down, babe. This could take a minute.”
“Oh.”
“Still the brains of the operation, I see,” I quipped, earning a dark look from him.
***