Chapter 8

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Ellas POV:

I left Declan's a little over a hour ago. My mom wanted to see me and I didn't want her to know I was hanging out with a boy, so I left. There's was something about Declan, but I don't know how to explain it.

He's makes me forget about everything when I'm with him, my anxiety is forgotten when I'm around him. He makes me nervous but not my normal kind of nervous, which scares me. I try to keep closed off but with him it feels impossible.

I'm in my room putting away my clothes while listening to music. I hate when my clothes basket is full and I also hate when my room is messy. Well messy isn't the right word because my room is never messy. What I mean is I just feel clean when my room is vacuumed regularly and my shelves are wiped down so there's no dust in sight.

If I don't clean my room it's like the thought of cleaning it sticks in my head until it's done, it's like I have to do it or I can't relax. So Saturday is my cleaning day. Right now I'm listening to a pop playlist while cleaning.

When I'm done with my room I go down stairs to get a bottled water. I'm a little hungry but my moms cooking dinner. I walk to Thomas's room and peak in, he's playing x-box with his friends. When Thomas is home thats usually all he does unless he's with his girlfriend.

My mom is having her new boyfriend over for dinner tonight to meet us. I don't even want to think about it, I detest meeting new people. I'm not good at communicating with people and I have to make a decent impression.

Most of dinner I'll most likely be quiet, so maybe he will get the impression I don't like to talk. Thomas on the other hand will probably talk up a storm, he can talk to anyone. I wish I was like that, but when people talk to me I don't know what to say back. Most of the time I nod my head and smile. If I try to talk, the words don't come out right.

Honestly the idea of my mom having a boyfriend bothers me more then I'd like to admit.

My mom is preparing chicken Alfredo for dinner with a tossed salad. She's an amazing cook, and me on the other hand didn't inherit that gene. I'm okay at baking though, but not great at it. I asked my mom if I could eat upstairs and she could just pretend I wasn't home. She scuffed and said, no I'll be fine. My little ounce of hope she would say yes was shattered.

"Ella go upstairs and get cleaned up, oh and put on something nice." My mom says steering the pot on the stove .

"Define nice, because I'm not wearing a dress." I reply sharply.

"Just look presentable, and drop the attitude you'll be fine." Her voice goes stern.

She knows how I get around people I don't know. My body becomes all sweaty and I tend to shift uncomfortably in my seat. Sometimes my lungs close up and it's hard to breathe. She has no idea how uneasy I feel because she's never felt it.

I hate that I always feel alone, like I'm so incredibly different and nobody feels what I feel. It's almost like I'm locked, suffocating and there's no way out. My mom wanted me to be on medication, but I refused. I didn't want to feel like I was floating, I just wanted to feel safe and she didn't understand that.

I trudge my way up the stairs, dreading this dinner. With my crappy social anxiety, this is going to be a complete wreck. But I some how slowly manage to put on some black leggings with a cute purple sweater.

In the bathroom I brush my hair while putting on a little mascara. I never wear makeup, it doesn't interest me but I have to look "presentable." I pull back some of my hair and bobby pin it, good enough.

I make my way down stairs when I hear a deep baritone voice. My feet freeze on the stairs. This must be my moms new boyfriend. I can hear my mom laughing and Thomas talking.

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