Fauxmance (Showmance #2)(69)

“What’s going on?”

“You’re taking me out and giving me a tour of your hometown. Then we’re going to have greasy fish and chips for dinner before buying a bottle of cheap cider to drink on the beach.”

She didn’t look convinced. “That sounds...”

“Marvellous. I know. Now, come on.”

We spent an hour walking around Torquay. Ellen pointed out places of interest before we stopped at a café. “My brother, Nick, works here. We can see if he’s around. He might give us free coffee.”

I gestured for her to lead the way. Inside there was a guy with the same curly brown hair as Ellen, but instead of brown eyes, his were blue. He was pouring a latte when he spotted her walk in, his smile wide and confident.

“Would you look what the cat dragged in,” he called out.

“Thought I’d drop in and say hello.”

“Come here and give me a hug, baby sis.”

She went to him, and they embraced. I was so glad she had people who loved her this much. Again, my chest itched in a way no amount of scratching would soothe.

“Who’s this?” he asked, eyes coming to me.

“I’m the new boyfriend,” I replied.

“This is Julian,” Ellen supplied, looking a little flushed at me dropping the boyfriend bomb again.

Nick looked me up and down, somewhat impressed, then gaped at Ellen. “Whuuut?”

Ellen slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t sound so shocked.”

“Well, what do you expect? You tell me everything, and you never once mentioned a boyfriend. Nice to meet you, Julian, by the way.”

“You, too. Ellen tells me you’re the nice brother.”

“Yep, you’ll understand once you meet Cameron.”

I laughed. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Come on and sit down. What can I get you both to drink?”

We spent a half an hour chatting with Nick, who apparently dropped out of college to backpack across Asia, before returning to his hometown to work as a barista and regale customers with tales of his travels. He was a delight, and I wondered how two siblings could be so different in countenance. If Nick was an open book, then Ellen was closed tight. She was coming out of her shell, sure, but it was still interesting to note the differences.

Her arm was linked through mine as we strolled along the beach. Just as I’d promised, we stopped for fish and chips, then paid a visit to the local off-licence for a bottle of cider. When we found a suitable spot, I took off my jacket, spread it out on the sand and gestured for her to sit. We drank in quiet, passing the bottle back and forth as we watched the tide go out.

“Tell me something about you I don’t know yet,” I said as I admired her profile. The sun was starting to go down, the dimming golden rays falling across her face, highlighting the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks.

“Like what?”

“What were you like at school?”

She took a swig of cider, staring off into the distance. “I was quiet, kept to myself. I had selective mutism up until the age of six. Most of my family put it down to Mum dying, but I was only two when that happened, so I’m not sure that’s true.”

“You never know. Things can affect us in strange ways when we’re still developing.” I’d heard of selective mutism before, but I didn’t think it was a very common thing. It made sense for Ellen to have it, considering how shy she was.

“I guess so. Anyway, it was my curse from there on out. Even when I started talking, I was still unbearably shy. Socialising was almost a physical pain. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Did you ever see a therapist?”

She shook her head. “My dad runs his own construction company. He’s a man’s man, doesn’t really like to talk about feelings. I guess he thought my issues would resolve on their own. That sounds really bad, doesn’t it?”

“Hey, you’re looking at someone who definitely could’ve benefitted from therapy from an early age, too, but I barely knew what it was until I went to rehab.”

“At least you got there eventually. It’s just, the idea of sitting in a room and telling a stranger all my issues makes me break out in hives. It feels self-indulgent, like people have bigger problems, you know?”

I looked at her affectionately. “Everything is relative, Ellen.”

She exhaled heavily. “I’m a mess.”

“A hot mess though,” I said, nudging her with my elbow. “And hotness is all that really matters in life, right?”

She laughed. “You’re a goof.”

“And you’re gorgeous, tell me something else. You’ve achieved so much with your books, but what else do you aspire to?”

Ellen took a moment to think about it. “This might not sound very original, but I’d love to go travelling. I haven’t been on a holiday since I was eighteen.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

She lifted a shoulder and pursed her lips, like she felt awkward or embarrassed. “I guess I don’t really have anyone to go with, and I’ve always been too afraid of travelling alone. Nick backpacked across Asia all by himself. He’s very fearless in that way. I feel like travelling will make me a better writer. If I could see the world, experience other cultures, it would help me understand people better, portray their emotions and motivations more realistically on the page.”