Chapter 22 Ella

Chapter 22 Ella
I stretched lazily, a small smile tugging at my lips, the morning sunlight streaming through the blinds like a gentle promise. Today felt… different. There was a lightness I hadn’t felt in days, a quiet anticipation that made leaving my bed harder than usual, but exciting all the same.

“I wish we didn’t have work today,” Sophia whined, her voice muffled by the pillow.

“Me too,” I sighed, pulling the blanket closer for a second before finally rolling out. “But we need the money.”

As we got ready, Sophia wouldn’t stop talking about yesterday. She recounted every detail of our dinner with Edward—the food, the ambiance, the way he had smiled at me. Her eyes glittered as she said, “I’m certain La Belle Étoile will be just like this.”

I scoffed. “They can never measure up to it.”

“You’re always a hater of that restaurant. I wonder why,” she teased, nudging me with an elbow.

We slipped into our cafe uniforms, the crisp shirts and black skirt, a far cry from the elegance of yesterday, and headed out.

“Ella, Sophia! I’ve been waiting all week for you guys!” Maxine’s beaming face greeted us as soon as we arrived.

“Your… boyfriend came over earlier this week,” she added casually.

“Boyfriend?” I blinked, my heart doing a little somersault.

“Yes. He said he needed your number. I asked him what happened, and he said his phone got damaged and he needed to call you.”

“And you gave him the number? Just like that?”

“I saw you guys talking outside the cafe the other day. You looked so cute together, I really thought he was your boyfriend,” she said before walking away, leaving me blinking in disbelief.

Sophia burst into laughter beside me. “At least the mystery of where he got your number is solved.”

I shook my head, still trying to process it. “That was… really smooth of him.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. A familiar name lit up the screen. Damien.

“Hey, princess,” his text read.

I smiled, replying quickly: “Hi, friend. I’m at work now. I’ll respond later.”

“I’ll pick you up after,” he shot back.

“Ok,” I typed, feeling my cheeks warm slightly.

Sophia’s grin widened. “That was definitely Damien, wasn’t it? I saw it in your eyes,the glow, the little blush…”

I didn’t even realize I was smiling.

“He wants to hang out after work,” I said, still a little breathless.

“Maybe he wants to invite you to watch the race tonight,” she said, smirking knowingly.

By five minutes before closing, Damien had arrived. He ordered a sandwich, though we both knew he wasn’t hungry, just here for me. I waved goodbye to Sophia, her teasing grin following me out the door.

“Did I tell you I love the way you look with a messy bun?” he asked as I climbed onto his bike.

“Now I know,” I replied, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“I actually want to invite you to watch the race tonight,” he said quietly, almost shyly.

I teased, “I made a lot of bad memories there.”
“ It will be worth it this time.” He said.

We both laughed. His hands rested lightly on the handlebars, the warmth of his touch lingering longer than necessary.

“So… what did you do last night?” he asked suddenly, his voice low, almost cautious.

“Oh, I had a dinner date with my friend. He invited Sophia and me.”

“Just a friend?” His gaze sharpened, watching me carefully, and I felt strangely exposed under his scrutiny.

“Yes. Just a friend,” I reassured, noticing the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. His chuckle was soft, almost amused. Was he… jealous?

“I hope you’re hungry?” he asked, breaking the silence with a playful edge.

“Starving. I could eat you whole right now,” I teased, and he laughed, the sound wrapping around me like a warm blanket.

The restaurant he chose was small but cozy, the kind of place where the dim lights and soft music immediately relaxed you. The gentle clinking of cutlery, the faint hum of quiet conversations, it all felt intimate, like we had slipped into our own little world.

I ordered Chinese glass noodles with chicken, while Damien went for fried egg rice with grilled chicken. When the food arrived, the aroma made my stomach flutter with anticipation—savory, warm, and comforting. The noodles glistened under the soft glow, and my first bite was everything I hoped for: tender, slightly chewy, perfectly seasoned. The salad was crisp, refreshing, and balanced the meal with a delicate crunch.

I was so lost in the flavors that I didn’t notice Damien watching me—at least, not until I glanced up and caught his gaze. He wasn’t looking away, a faint smile playing on his lips as if he found my enjoyment amusing and endearing all at once.

My heart skipped. Heat crept up my cheeks, and I quickly looked back down at my plate, pretending to focus on the noodles, but I could still feel his eyes on me—soft, unhurried, patient.

“Aren’t you going to eat? Your food will get cold,” I said, cheeks burning.

“Watching you eat is pretty satisfying,” he replied, still not looking away.

“I might just stop eating if you keep staring at me,” I teased, glancing up at him.

“Ok, fine,” he said, finally picking up his fork and eating, though the faint grin never left his face.

We talked while we ate, the conversation flowing as easily as the gentle music in the background. He asked about my ambitions, my schoolwork, my dreams. I asked about him, and he spoke candidly, casually mentioning his family and upbringing.

“Well, my dad’s out of the picture. I only have my mom and younger sister. It’s not interesting—he died when I was little,” he said, as if it were just a passing fact, not the ache behind it.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, reaching out to squeeze his hand. The spark was immediate, vivid, the heat of connection sharp in my chest. I quickly pulled away, pretending nothing had happened.

The conversation drifted to lighter topics. School stories, racing anecdotes, music—but the undercurrent of emotion never fully dissipated. After we finished, Damien dropped me off at home.

“I’ll see you on the track tonight,” he said before leaving, his confident smile lingering in my mind.

“Is he always this dramatic?” Sophia groaned as we prepared for the race, hands flailing in exaggeration. I had recounted the date to her.

“You’re always so dramatic,” I countered, laughing as we slipped into our outfits for the evening. The air outside was alive with energy, the faint smell of gasoline and excitement hanging thick around us. Sophia wore a denim jacket over her dress, while I kept it simple—jeans, a fitted top, and sneakers. I had put my hair in a messy bun. My heart was already racing, anticipation mixing with nerves.

Alex picked us up, grinning in the driver’s seat. The roads were lively, filled with the roar of engines and the shouts of excited fans. Every turn of the wheel made my pulse quicken.

When we reached the track, the crowd was immense, lights flashing, engines revving, people shouting in anticipation. My eyes scanned the racers, and then I saw him, Damien.

He stood near the start line, calm, confident, leather jacket hugging his frame perfectly. Our eyes met for a brief second, and he winked. My chest clenched, my breath catching before I quickly looked away, pretending to adjust my hair, though my stomach flipped anyway.

The race began with a deafening roar. Tires screeched, engines thundered, and the crowd erupted. I couldn’t help but cheer, shouting his name louder than I intended. Sophia laughed beside me, clapping and shouting along.

When Damien crossed the finish line first, victorious as always, the crowd went wild. I jumped, hugging Sophia, both of us squealing and laughing. My heart was still pounding when I saw him walking toward us, sweat glistening on his forehead, the same confident smile lighting his face.

And then I noticed her, the girl beside him. The same one from the cafe. Her hand brushed his arm casually as they approached. She was effortlessly beautiful, and for a second, my smile faltered. I tried to hide it, to plaster on a casual grin, but the tight knot in my chest refused to loosen.

“Here comes the drama,” Sophia whispered from behind me, her tone teasing but observant.

I swallowed, heart aching with a strange mix of jealousy and curiosity. The night, the race, Damien’s victory—it should have been perfect. But the sight of that girl made me realize just how complicated things could get. My chest tightened, and yet,
I couldn’t look away from him. My eyes were glued, heart racing, breath shallow, waiting to see what would happen next.