Discovering Us Spin-off: My Forbidden Love

ELLA

Today is shaping up to be better than I expected. I’ve got three extra hours on my hands, thanks to Mr. Lettingdon calling in sick.

I’ve wrapped up all my work and aced my final exams. Now, it’s just about perfecting those coursework pieces to secure the highest grade possible.

Tilly won’t be joining us at Daniel’s until later, just in time for our night out at the restaurant where Mom has reserved a table.

“Don’t drink on an empty stomach, El. It could end badly,” she warned me when she let Tilly and me know that Daniel would be joining us. I can’t say I’m upset about her roping Daniel into babysitting us again.

Actually, I’m thrilled because I like Daniel.

Sure, it’s a bit odd that he’s one of my dad’s brothers, but that doesn’t bother me.

We’re not blood-related, so there’s no reason we can’t date, honestly.

Daniel and I shared a kiss on my sixteenth birthday. My first kiss, well, first two kisses, to be exact.

My only kisses…

And ever since that night, I’ve been waiting, saving myself for him.

I’ve had these feelings for a while now. Maybe they started that night, or perhaps they started slightly earlier. Either way, I sit and pine for him when it feels like he doesn’t see me.

He was my first crush. His hair, his eyes… Those never-ending muscles.

Yeah, I’m pretty smitten, but the problem is he doesn’t seem to want me back.

Well, that’s not entirely true. Sometimes he does.

He cuddles me, plays with my hair, and touches me in ways that are more than friendly. But then, I won’t see him for days, weeks, or even months, like he’s pulling away to prevent us from going any further.

It’s confusing as hell, but Mom tells me I need to be patient. That he’s a gentleman at heart and he will realize what he’s been missing, but I don’t know.

How long does a girl have to wait?

I let myself into his apartment, which smells like it’s just been cleaned, and everything is in its place. Sometimes his place is a mess, but most times, it’s like this. Where everything has a home, and those things are in their place without a speck of dust in sight.

I suspect he cleans it when he knows I’m coming over, but I can’t be entirely sure because it’s mostly always clean.

Daniel lives alone in the penthouse suite of one of the high-rise buildings here in town.

The views are breathtaking, especially at night when the moon is out, and the city is lit up like a Christmas tree.

Daniel shared that view with me for the first time when I was fourteen. I was speechless and still have one of the photos I took enlarged. It hangs above my bed at home to this day.

Since that day, I’ve hoped I was the only woman he’s ever shared the view with. I mean, I have never seen him with a girl, ever.

So maybe my hope isn’t in vain.

I head straight to the kitchen that overlooks the floor-to-ceiling glass windows showcasing the city.

Reaching into the top drawer, I find the window controls, opening them up so the breeze from the balcony can filter through the room. Then I start gathering the ingredients for my chili con carne. My dad, as in my dad Callum, taught me how to make this.

It’s one of his favorites, too, and whenever it’s my turn to cook, it’s almost always this that he requests.

My home life is a bit unusual, to say the least. I mean, having three dads makes things interesting, and people talk… I don’t mind the talking so much, but words stick, unfortunately, so even if I try to ignore the ignorant idiots at school, that doesn’t mean I don’t hear them.

The one thing that bothers me most is when people call my mother a whore. It’s a crude word that I despise.

Like many other women in this world, my mother chose to love more than one person.

I have one mother and three fathers, not by my choice, but I wouldn’t wish any of them away. Because my life has been full and wholesome.

I don’t pretend to understand her version of normal, but it’s a happy version and our life growing up was full of love, happiness, and parents. Lots of them.

Playing our dads against each other is always a blast.

Usually, it’s my dad Zach teaming up with my dad Callum, while my real dad, Tyler, sides with my mom.

Tyler and I are a lot alike—quiet, reserved, the voices of reason in our chaotic family.

It’s a rare day when Tyler raises his voice at us, even rarer for him to shout.

I arrange my ingredients on the kitchen counter, then wash my hands and tie on my apron.

Next, I start chopping the onion, peppers, and garlic.

Daniel prefers fresh herbs and spices, so I grind them down.

Once that’s done, I toss everything into his slow cooker and set it on high for six hours.

That’s all the prep work, except for the rice I’ll cook tomorrow.

After rewashing my hands, cleaning up, and loading the dishwasher, I sigh with contentment.

This is my favorite time.

Our house is usually bustling with the nine of us, but here it’s so quiet that I can sit and think.

Lately, my thoughts have been consumed by my fears of growing up.

I had originally planned to go to college out of state.

Tilly had convinced me that being away from home would give us more independence, and I suppose she’s right.

But then I realized how much I didn’t want to leave home.

I didn’t want to leave my mom or dads, or even my annoying younger brothers or my infuriating youngest sister.

I don’t know what my parents were thinking with Talya.

She’s the most spoiled little brat on this side of the Pacific.

At twelve years old, she throws tantrums like she’s our age.

My parents have their hands full with her and Asher.

I guess they lucked out with the rest of us, though if they knew what Tilly gets up to when she’s with her mom…well, two of my three dads might be in prison by now.

Tilly’s mom is a lot like mine—relaxed and carefree.

She doesn’t mind Tilly dating and doesn’t enforce a curfew.

Tilly’s lucky because her mom gives her an allowance just for being her daughter.

My parents, on the other hand, believe we should earn our own money.

My first job was cleaning out my grandma’s barns.

Actually, I still do it most Saturdays, walking down to her house to help her out.

She’s too old to do it herself now, and since our grandpa died last year, she’s sold off some of their horses. We have one of them at our house at the moment.

He’s a cool horse, but still a bit skittish. Glancing at the clock, I decide to shower and get ready for the evening.

Daniel and I are meeting Tilly and her new boyfriend downstairs at six o’clock sharp. Not that Tilly is ever on time.

I sneak into Daniel’s en-suite walk-in shower, knowing it’s much better than the small one in the guest room. This shower is amazing—with lights, music, and aromatic smells.

The jets hit you from all angles and, if I’m honest…it’s like a full-body massage. It doesn’t take long to wash away the day’s grime and remove my makeup, which I’ll reapply once I’m out.

My go-to look is thick black liner, high rosy cheeks, and a pale, almost white foundation. The kids at school label me a freak, emo, goth—whatever they want to call someone like me.

I just like wearing black—on my body, my nails, even my lips. I’ve never dyed my hair like the others in my group, though.

I like my red hair. I tried growing it out like my mom’s once, but it was too annoying, so I keep it shoulder length—when it’s curly.

When it’s wet, it’s nearly halfway down my back. I hop out of the shower when the water starts to cool, grabbing one of Daniel’s fluffy white towels for my body and another for my hair.

Then, I get to work on my face. Applying my foundation is a tedious task. They don’t manufacture a shade light enough for my skin, so I have to mix in whitener until it’s almost pointless to use it. But I need something to hide these pesky pimples.

I’m nearly finished with my makeup routine, eyeliner in hand, when the bathroom door swings open.

A startled yelp escapes me, and the cursed bottle of waterproof liquid liner slips from my grasp. It splatters dramatically against the pristine white marble sink. My gaze lands on Daniel, clutching the door handle with a vice-like grip, his knuckles blanched and his arm stiff.

We remain frozen, locked in a silent tableau, drinking in the sight of each other.

It’s been nearly a month since our last encounter, on my eighteenth birthday, to be precise. We had dinner at our parents’ favorite Chinese restaurant, where he barely spoke to me. Even before that, he’d been distant, especially since the last time we really hung out, when he kissed me.

“What are you doing in my room, duchess?”

“Bathing, applying makeup. You know, the usual bathroom activities?”

His gaze flicks from the black eyeliner smeared across his sink to me.

He steps in, reaching around me to turn on the faucet. Using his washcloth, he scrubs away the mess, then rights my eyeliner bottle, replacing the wand inside.

“Haven’t I told you countless times that you don’t need all this?” he asks, stroking my cheek gently with the back of his hand. My breath hitches as I inhale his familiar scent.

Why does his aftershave have to smell so good?

“Mom says to wear whatever makes me comfortable,” I reply, shrugging nonchalantly. My towel slips a bit, revealing the top of my right breast.

His eyes dart down, seemingly of their own accord, then snap back to my face as I readjust the towel. I catch the flicker of amusement and desire in his expression. Our eyes remain locked, and I silently plead for him to close the small distance between us and kiss me.

I’m almost convinced he might, until he turns away, a smirk playing on his lips. He tosses a comment over his shoulder.

“I suppose I’ll be using the guest room to get ready for the evening, then?”

“Mom always said you were a gentleman.”

“Mhm.”

I hope you enjoyed reading from Ella’s perspective.