Page 31 of So Not My Type

Ella’s eyes filled with confusion.

Did Ella really not remember? Sure, she’d alluded to that on Friday, when things were heated. But they’d been having a nice morning, so far. She was really sticking with that story, huh?

“What happened that day?” Ella finally asked.

Sophie’s chest pinched. “You really don’t remember?”

Ella’s gaze cast down and she fiddled with the water bottle. “I really don’t. The details are… fuzzy.”

For weeks, Sophie had thought about that moment. The first year of working, she used Ella’s words and looks as justificationfor her self-doubt talk, knowing she didn’t belong here. Then she used it for motivation. But the feeling she got when someone acted as though they were above her, that she was not good enough, never faded.

Sophie needed to prevent herself from spiraling anymore. “You know what? Fresh slate? What’s done is done, and we both probably said some things that day that we regret.”

Ella nodded and scooted her chair back under the desk. Her breathing picked up so much that Sophie wasn’t sure if she was fighting off a sneeze or suppressing a yawn.

“I, ah.” Ella’s voice was hesitant. “I have epilepsy.”

Epilepsy?That was the very last thing Sophie thought Ella would say in this moment. How was Sophie supposed to react to that statement? Say sorry? That didn’t seem like the right word. Especially since Ella didn’t look like she’d revealed something negative, just something private.

“Wow,” Sophie said, because what else could she offer? Her chatterbox mouth rendered shut. But… she had so many questions. What was it like? What should she do if Ella had a seizure? How long had she been epileptic? What did it feel like? “I had no idea. That must be… hard.”

So dumb. She sounded unsympathetic at best, an idiot at worst. But she wasn’t sure if Ella wanted to explain any further. It wasn’t like they were friends. They weren’t evenfriendlyuntil this morning.

“I’d really appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone.” Ella stiffened.

Sophie appreciated that Ella had to say this, but the one thing Sophie didn’t do was spill secrets. But shouldn’t people know in case they needed to help her? She certainly didn’t know what to do if Ella had a seizure.

“Do you have any experience with epilepsy?” Ella asked.

Sophie remembered hearing never to shove anything in their mouth, and make sure the person’s surroundings were safe.She vaguely recalled hearing about different types of seizures, and what they showed in the movies was not always accurate. Beyond that, she had nothing. “No, not at all.”

Ella dropped her hand into her lap. Her cheek sucked into her mouth, and she paused. “Listen, it’s not an excuse. Like, at all. But after a seizure, even up to a few weeks after, they make me super irritable. And, well, they mess with short-term memory.”

I am the most supreme asshole in the world. Maybe even universe.

“For a few years, especially during my teens, they just couldn’t get my meds under control. I had more seizures than the doctors wanted. If I did, or said, something terrible to you, and I don’t remember, it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because… I don’t remember.”

It felt like one of those archaic computers from the 1980s had just fallen onto Sophie’s chest. All these years holding a grudge, knowing so clearly what someone thought of you, knowing to your core they went home and laughed about you, and to find out it wasn’t true, shook Sophie. She felt both heavier and lighter, and her brain shorted with the crossed signals.

“Well, I remember what I said to you,” Sophie offered. “And it was really not cool. I’m sorry, too.”

Ella’s lips twitched into a grin. “Clean slate?”

“Definitely.”

TWELVE

ELLA

Ella had to hand it to Sophie—when she said clean slate, she really meant clean slate. Whatever Ella said to Sophie when they first met remained buried, and gratitude flooded through her that Sophie had let it go. Post-seizure, during the post-ictal phase, Ella always sludged through brain fog, extreme fatigue, and severe irritability. Everything pissed her off, and she had little control over her emotions. Like a black-hazed nightmare, she rarely remembered what she had said. A few years back, she’d viewed some security footage from their house for an unrelated reason, and cried when she heard the way she’d spoken to Thomas. Her stomach sickened with the thought that she might have treated Sophie in the same manner.

The rest of the week morphed into a solid working relationship. Ella stood hip to hip with Sophie reviewing creative, nibbled on granola in the cafeteria, discussed project tiers, and grabbed a quiet room to pore over dozens of pages of notes.

Earlier in the week, Sophie ordered Pad Kee Mao takeout fromhands down, the best place in the International District.She had handed over a set of chopsticks, and explained why you couldn’t have the same social media message on all platforms.The TikTok crowd differed from Facebook, which differed from Instagram, she explained. The following day, needing air after four hours of back-to-back meetings, they walked over to Red Lava for coffee (Sophie) and crepes (Ella). While sitting near the corner window, Sophie let Ella in on why the SEO team was notoriously hard to pin down, that the creative director’s tell when she didn’t like something was to tug on her earlobe, and how last year the stuffy-ass VP got drunk at the Christmas party and did the actual Hammer dance.Surprisingly well, Sophie had added.

Last night, Ella stayed late with Sophie. Over a few slices of pizza, an unfortunate episode of ultra-bubbly cream soda spilling on Ella’s chest, and an explosion of tired giggles, Sophie showed her how to build a project template based on day duration instead of dates. When Ella clicked a button and cascaded information to the team, she felt like a total badass.

A hefty bump in the road jarred her from her thoughts as Thomas navigated through the Friday morning rush-hour traffic. He peeked at Ella in the rearview mirror. “Work or coffee shop?”

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