Page 137 of Ripped & Shipped
“I wish you could put those people out of your mind.”
“Me too. But if it helps, I forget them when I’m with you.”
“That does help. I want to be your safe place.”
I kiss the top of her head.
She tilts her face up and kisses me lightly. I return the kiss. But it’s not a kiss full of passion. We’re not making out. This is so much deeper. We’re connecting and comforting one another. Even when I dated women for longer stretches of time, I never had someone who felt like she belonged with me at such a deep level the way Ella Mae does.
I kiss her forehead, run my hand down her hair, kiss her cheeks. She closes her eyes and lets me soothe her with my kisses and touch. She cups my face, leaning in to kiss my cheek, my lips, the tip of my nose. She brushes her hand along my jawline.
When we slowly break apart, Ella Mae looks up at me.
“Drake reached out again today—about the bash,” she says.
His name feels like an intrusion.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. He wants me to come out so he can introduce me around. He wants to help me get more connected.”
I wonder about the things she said at the lake about her dreams, and what she’d do if the internet broke. I remember her saying social media feels flat right now. Why does she want to grow if she doesn’t even know if she wants to keep doing what she’s doing?
I’d ask her, but it feels wrong to push her after all she’s been through today and this week. She needs my support. I don’t think I can support her going to see Drake, though. Something about that guy rubs me very wrong.
Ella Mae continues to tout the benefits of going to Drake’s bash. “All the important people will be there. I would have never been invited even a year ago. It’s kind of a miracle that I was included this year. This is really a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If I’m bigger next year, I might be on the A-list. But if I don’t go this year, Drake might never include me again. Invites are coveted. Turning him down would be a slap in the face.”
The words,So what, sit on my tongue like the shell of a sunflower seed, ready to be spit out. I obviously don’t say them. This is Ella Mae’s life. She’s already had to scold me once today for sticking my nose too far into her business uninvited.
“I’m not telling you what to do,” I say by way of a caveat. “But I’m concerned about Drake and the inconsistent way he’s been with you.”
Ella Mae doesn’t chew me out, so I keep talking. “Plus, I think he just wants to see if he can get together with you. I think he’s got a thing for you, Ella Mae.”
“Who cares? I don’t have a thing for him. Besides, that’s ridiculous. He’s Drake! He could have so many women. He doesn’t want me. I’m not in his league. He’s genuinely trying to help me. You don’t have to get all caveman-jealous, Soldier.”
“You really think that highly of him?” I ask.
The guy strikes me as a grade-A jerk. Selfish, full of himself, inconsiderate, and unreliable.
“Hey,” Ella Mae says, twisting so she’s sitting on my lap and cupping my jaw. “You’re it for me. I don’t want Drake. And, he for sure doesn’t want me, you big goofball. So stop worrying about that. I need to get away. The trip to LA will give me that chance. And it will provide me the opportunity to build my business with a lot of really influential people. I’ll come back with my head cleared, a little tan … And, bonus! Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so I’ll be itching to see you.”
She leans up and kisses me. I melt into her, wrapping my arms behind her and holding her to me. Our mouths dance and she runs her hands through my hair. She fists my shirt and kisses me with a fierceness that I know is meant to quell my fears. It only serves to stoke the fire constantly burning inside me for her.
CHAPTER45
Ella Mae
I’m packingmy most fierce, fashtastic power outfits—sexy, but subtle; trendy, but not try-hard. There will be plenty of people at the bash who have actual Jimmy Choos, in multiple colors. It’s a way bigger pond out there and I’m acutely aware of my guppy status. But I’m going to be a knock-out, boss babe of a guppy if I have anything to say about it.
I chant some affirmations while I lay outfits on my bed. I’m looking at mixed-patterns on silk scarf tops and silk pants. I choose one combo that slays.
I’m as talented as any of these people.
I built my own business from scratch.
Picking up a pair of red flair capri pants and a chevron crop top, I hear Chris’ voice saying what he thinks of me.
You’re one of the best people I know.
