Page 22 of Scoring with my Bestie's Ex

The howling wind makes such a ruckus that I can’t sleep. Every time I think I’m about to, a boom of thunder jolts me awake again.

Finally, I can’t stand it any longer. I get up and grab my headphones. The music helps drown out the storm, but when I lie back down, the headphones instantly slip off.

Groaning, I turn on the light. If I’m not going to get any sleep, I can at least get some work done.

Not that I have much work to do.

I grab my sketchbook and flip through my designs, pausing to study my favorites.

I didn’t end up getting a machine and fabric to sew dresses for myself and Ellen. Sadly, Castleton doesn’t have any stores that sell them.

So, we plan to hit the clothing boutiques tomorrow to see if we can find anything. The dance is tomorrow night, after all.

It’s a shame. I would have liked to have tried to whip up something.

My fingers skim over one particular design that would have been perfect for a barn dance. It has cold shoulders with frills, a fitted bodice, and a flared skirt that would swirl beautifully when spun in.

I close my eyes and picture myself in it, smiling.

The image is pleasing.

As I move to my next design, it hits me suddenly that while I’ve been focused on my career, it hasn’t been in the way I’ve wanted.

Over the last few years, my main focus has been to increase my pay. To get to a stable place so I can set aside enough money so that one day I could venture into my own designs.

I haven’t been doing what I need to make my designs perfect. I’ve been using it as an excuse because nothing is ever perfect.

Part of me wants to blame it on Steven. On his spending habits, his insistence that I pay for the wedding, or planning vacations that were more expensive than I wanted.

I have to examine myself, though. I’m the one holding myself back. Maybe I let him hold onto me too tightly, but ultimately I’m responsible for myself.

A surge of warmth sweeps through me as I close my sketchbook. It surprises me at first until I understand where it comes from.

Aaron.

He was so sweet today, listening without interruption, except for asking questions to clarify his doubts. He offered no judgment, and just let me talk about my passions.

He really is a good man. I can see why Ellen quickly felt at ease about staying with her ex-boyfriend when we were stuck here.

Speaking of… a knock comes at my door.

“Come in,” I call, knowing who it will be.

Ellen pads in, wearing her plaid t-shirt and shorts, her braided into a crown around her head.

“I saw your light was on and thought you might want some company.” Ellen hops onto my bed. “Can’t sleep?”

“The storm,” I answer.

“It’s really coming down, isn’t it?” A crash of thunder enunciates her words.

Ellen shudders. “Ugh! And it’s so cold, too.”

Laughing, I pull back the blanket. “Come on in, the bed is warm.”

“Thanks.” Ellen slips under the blankets. There’s barely enough room for both of us in the narrow bed, but it does make it warmer.

“I bet you wish you could be snuggled up with Mike instead,” I tease.

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