Love Always, Ella

Chapter Thirteen

Patrick

Sitting around the campfire playing my guitar doesn't feel the same. When my fingers strum the strings I don't feel like I even want to continue. I want to just chuck my guitar into the fire and let it burn. I can't focus on my music. Normally everything around me fades and all I'm focused on is the tune of the waves. I'd normally close my eyes and play in sync with the tide, but tonight I can't do that. Tonight I can't do that because of her.

This past week and a half all I can think about is how to apologize for how messed up I am in the head. I'm such an asshole. She's had way too many encounters in her life with guys like me, and for once I wanted to show her that not all guys were the same. But here I am, playing my stupid guitar around a fire with people who aren't really my friends. They're just people I surround myself with so I can get through high school without being made fun of for the rest of my life.

That night when we went to the arcade I've never felt anything like I have when I was with her. How beautiful she looked in that dress, every part of my body wanting to take it way further with her than I've wanted to with any other girl. She was Ella Carson, beautiful inside and out, yet here I am strumming my guitar without her next to me.

I don't know why I said what I did in front of all of them on the boardwalk. It was just the way they were looking at me and the way they were about to say something so hurtful that made me nervous. I didn't want them to know, because if they did then they would have made fun of her that much more. I was trying to protect her, but instead of protecting her I think I just destroyed any possible chance I had at being with her.

"Dude, would you stop being all depressed already?"

I stop my fingers on the strings and glance over at Drew, the person who had asked the question that had ruined everything between us. His face makes me vile, and I swear that if I look at him for more than five seconds I'll punch him square in the face. Drew thinks he's hot shit because he's captain of our basketball team. Every chance he gets he flexes his muscles that are hardly even there. I used to think that Drew was the closest thing I'd ever get to a best friend in middle school, but as soon as his hormones kicked in he became the biggest idiot I've ever known.

With thoughts of Ella surrounding my head I don't answer Drew, I just start my guitar back up until Rosie pipes in when she doesn't need to. "It's probably about that fat chick." She laughs, taking another sip of alcohol. "Ella, right?"

Drew bursts out into laughter, clapping his hands like an ugly seal before he runs his hands through his shaggy blonde hair. "What?" He asks in disbelief. "Nah, Patrick wouldn't go for her. He could do so much better."

Rosie nods her head in approval before she looks at me, my jaw clenched and my eyes fuming. I feel like I can't see anything except red. For a second I think I'll get up and leave, but I want to say something to them. I want to say something to all of them that are staring at me, waiting for me to say something, but I can't. I can't stand up for her and I can't defend her. I feel powerless, like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders right now.

"We aren't dating." I say, this time being honest because we really aren't. "But it's getting late and my mom wants me home. I think I'm gonna get going actually."

Rosie looks like she wants me to stay, I know she does. After last summer when she told me she had feelings for me we haven't been the same because, well, I don't have feelings for her. I did for a night and you can pretty much see where it goes from there. We made out at one of these parties a couple years ago, and afterwards I just got up and left. She wasn't a bad kisser, I just wasn't into it. She doesn't seem to get the hint though, because she tries relentlessly to get with me. Maybe we should end up together though, because I don't deserve a girl like Ella; I deserve a girl like Rosie. Someone that puts others down to make herself feel better.

But girls like Rosie honestly and truly are pathetic. They think that flaunting themselves with hardly any clothes on and acting like a complete idiot will somehow get them a good guy. I mean sure, girls like her will get noticed, but they'll get noticed by the types of guys they aren't really looking for. The guys who know all the right things to say to get into their pants will notice them, and then when they wake up the next day and those guys are nowhere to be found they call us the asshole.

What she needs to do, and all girls need to do, is strive to be like Ella. They need to carry themselves with poise and be conservative with their bodies. Ella knows just what to wear to turn a guy on yet not make it seem like she's being too provocative. Ella is everything a guy could want. She's polite, she's generous, she's kind, she's funny and she is so damn intelligent it completely blows me away.

So why am I on this damn beach without her? Why am I not walking right over to her house and begging for her to give me a second chance? I should do that. I should make it like the movies and just surprise her, kiss the living shit out of her. I should feel her lips on mine again, pull her out onto the beach with me and spend the whole night there, not even care about what my mom would say. I'd show up in the morning at my house with the biggest smile on my face and stay happily grounded if I knew that she still wanted me like I wanted her.

"Aw, c'mon buddy." Drew laughs more and passes a blunt to Rosie. "If you don't want us to make fun of your lover then we'll stop. Just trying to let you know in advance that she might die of diabetes sooner than you think."

"Really?" I seethe. "Come on. That's just uncalled for."

"Oh my god." Rosie laughs in disbelief when she sees my face turning redder. "I think he actually likes her!"

"Looks like we've got a chubby chaser." Drew cackles, throwing his head back when everyone erupts into laughter.

After I hear that I stand up and sling the strap of my guitar over my shoulder. I walk away without another word to them, ignoring any pleas for me to come back there. I walk not in the direction of my house, not in the direction of the water, and not in the direction of the boardwalk. I walk in the direction of Ella's, and as my "friends" continue to try and call me back and yell that it was just a joke I don't listen.

Being with Ella is greater than being with drunk people. Having an intellectual and spiritual conversation with a girl that is so indescribable beyond words is much more interesting than listening to Rosie discuss what she bought shopping that day, or listening to Drew talk about the upcoming season. I want something different, and Ella is something different. She doesn't like that word, but I do. It's the perfect way to describe her, and what I want is her right now. If she's mad then I'll understand, but I'll apologize until I can't breathe.

A/N:

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