Page 39 of So Not My Type

She didn’t miss Jasmine. Not really, anyway. Her heart had mended and healed, but the sense of betrayal lingered, grazing beneath the surface like an old, faint scar.

Sophie followed her into the room and stopped at the foyer, her gaze traveling up the grand staircase and across the room. Her shoulders lifted in an inhale when she firmed her shoulders and dropped her backpack. “Where should we set up?”

Work. Yes, obviously they were here to work.“Um, we can go into the den off the kitchen. Are you hungry at all? We can grab snacks, or our housekeeper, Lydia, could make something for us?”

“Housekeeper?” Sophie’s eyes widened. “Oh, uh. No, I’m good. Thanks, though. I’ll just follow you.”

These heart palpitations needed to slow down, or Ella was going to pass out. Why was she so nervous? Was it because she had very few friends and limited guests? Or was it because of who she was with? She needed to get out of her head, stop acting weird, stop tensing her shoulders. For nearly a month, she’d sat next to Sophie every day. They ate together and ran for coffee breaks. She knew that around 10:00 a.m. Sophie got hungry and reached for a snack, that she adored Malcolm but didn’t like the lead designer, and that she cracked her knuckles after typing for too long. But here, now, felt different.

She led Sophie through the entryway and down to the kitchen, motioning to the custom oak corner table. Even though Sophie said she didn’t want anything, Ella still grabbed a few bottles of water, and joined her. The rustling of backpacks and notebooks filled the otherwise silent space, and soon, the clicking of keyboards took over.

The nerves burned off and Ella focused on the timeline review, finished the water, and grabbed snacks. Mid-crunch, Sophie slammed the laptop shut and groaned.

“No one is responding to anything.” She plucked a grape from the fruit bowl and popped it into her mouth. “This is useless. We are at a complete standstill.”

“So now what?”

Sophie stretched and her gaze shifted to Lake Washington. Her eyes traveled across the courtyard, stopping at the garden, when she tugged on her lips. “Can I ask you a question? Like a really personal one?”

This could go one of a million ways. Was this a sex talk? Socioeconomic talk? A getting-to-know-you-on-a-deeper-level talk? “Sure.”

“Is it hard to have epilepsy?” Sophie’s cheeks turned red, and she pressed her palm into her forehead. “God, sorry. What a dumbass question. I can’t believe I just asked that.”

Ella tugged on a grape and focused on the fruit in her hand. “Yes, it’s hard.” A replay roll of her life flashed in her mind. Doctors, meds, invasive exams, the sickening fear and helplessness she felt the moment right before a seizure hit. But recognizing her resiliency over the years, knowing she could power through anything, was a gift. “I missed a full year of school,twice. In the sixth grade, I literally couldn’t absorb anything. And in college, it happened again. I missed so much class, nearly failed some courses, constantly retook tests, and asked for accommodations… Yeah, it’s hard.”

Sophie bit the side of her lip. “I’ve never known anyone with epilepsy. I think there are a lot of things I take for granted.”

“Probably.” Ella plucked a few more grapes from the vine and slid the bowl closer to Sophie. “Like, I can’t take a bath or go in a pool without supervision. We have this amazing hot tub outside, and the only time I can use it is with my mom or dad. I mean, can you imagine how fun it is to sit in the tub with King George?”

Sophie’s eyes flashed wide. “King George? Um…”

“You all are not as discreet as you may think.” She’d heard the term rumbled through the hall a few times. “I’m not mad, though. I think he’d like it.”

“Whew.” Sophie overexaggerated wiping faux sweat from her brow. “But yeah, not sure I’d want to go hot tubbing with your dad, either.”

“Right? Or, like, I don’t know. I can’t get drunk, or have too much sugar, or go to a rave because of the blinking lights.” Although, admittedly, a rave never sounded fun. Too loud, too many sweaty bodies smooshed together, the fear of a fire hazard and trampling over each other. “Driving a car. That one kills me. I’ve always wanted to but can’t.”

Sophie tapped her fingers against the water bottle. “I hate driving. I have a car, but I hate it so much that I take the bus most places.”

“But you have the option, you know?” Ella stood and leaned against the window, watching the water below. She’d long ago accepted she had epilepsy. It was part of her, a piece of her identity, woven into the fiber of her being. But the restlessness of her restrictions weighed heavily, seeping into her bones. “Sometimes I feel like I have no options. I’m just… Ugh. I’m so restless. I’m so just over it all. I want to drive so bad. I know it seems super simple, and I have all this.” She jutted her arms to the view outside. “But I want to feel what’s it like to push a gas pedal and make something move. I want to turn a wheel. I want to hot tub without my dad!”

God damn her lips trembling in front of Sophie of all people. She turned her back to Sophie and stared out the window, hoping the mist hitting the trees would distract her. Besides the fateful night with her parents when she forced them to let her work, and the breakup with Jasmine, and a couple of weeks ago in the office, crying actually was not a norm. She swallowed back the urge to kick Sophie out, while fighting the longing to hug her.

Sophie joined her at the window, standing so close she felt their skin brush. A subtle, cedar-laced scent traveled from her, and Ella wanted to melt. So many moments passed Ella wasn’t sure what would break the silence. “Such a beautiful view,” Sophie finally said. “Do you ever worry a dead body will wash up on your lawn?”

Ella broke into a giggle. “That’s so random.” The relief that Sophie had broken the icy moment was enough for Ella toreallywant to wrap her arms around her. Sophie’s lips split into a wide grin, her lip ring rising. That mouth… those lips. So pretty, so soft… “Come on. Let’s raid the pantry.”

After loading up on cheese, crackers, berries, and chocolate-covered almonds, Sophie dug into the food as Ella fetched more drinks. The conversation turned to movies, music, anda discovered shared love of plain potato chips dipped in sour cream. Because, obviously.

“Can I ask another question?” Sophie asked as she palmed a few almonds. “Do people with epilepsy know when they’re about to have a seizure?”

Ella spread fig jam on top of a Brie chunk. “I do, but everyone is different. I have an aura.” She bit into the cracker. “Have you heard of it?”

Sophie shook her head.

“For some people, like me, I smell something sort of like metallic or sulfur. I used to tell my parents that something smelled funny, and they’d know it was coming.” She dusted the crumbs from her fingertips, thinking of how to articulate the sensation right before a seizure. “Have you ever walked down the stairs and you think you’ve reached the bottom, but really there’s one more step? There’s a sort of panicking feeling right before you trip, like you’re not sure if you’re going to fall and break an ankle. That happens immediately before a seizure for me. But it’s not enough warning for me to take my spray.”

Sophie lifted a bottle to her mouth. “What spray?”

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