Page 9 of Almost Ours

I eye him. He’s ginger, with blonde eyebrows and red stubble. "You're Scottish?"

Ewan takes a sip of his coffee. "My family are. They're from a tiny town called Plockton, but moved to England when I was born."

I turn to Josh, and there's a definite zing as our eyes meet. I can't wait to tell Dr. Haynes I do still feel something other than empty. "And you?” I ask him, snapping my eyes to his. “Where are you from?"

Josh lifts the hand holding his coffee cup slightly. His fingers are long and his hands are big. "Louth."

"No way!" The excitement jumps out, making me sound far too eager, which I am, but only because it’s always nice to find someone who lives close by. "That's near me. I'm from Woodhall Spa."

"Cool." His voice is indifferent, but his gaze pins me in place.

“I’ve been a few times,” I continue with way too much energy. “It’s nice.”

“It is,” Brooke says. “I’m from Louth too.”

I look at her. “Really? I would’ve guessed London.”

Brooke looks really offended. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Ewan rolls his eyes to her, grimacing a bit. “You know why.”

“I don’t.” She folds her arms. “Born and raised in Lincolnshire, thank you very much.”

“Poshest woman in Louth,” Ewan adds, laughing as he rubs her shoulder.

Brooke shoots him a look. “I’m not that posh.”

“Your parents’ house is massive.”

Brooke waves a hand to Josh. “So is his!”

“Mm,” Josh grunts in answer.

I peer at him. "That's all you’ve got?"

He pauses for a breath. "What?"

"An entire town and your review is 'cool' and 'mm'?"

His fingers tighten fractionally around his coffee cup. "It's just... home."

“You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re not saying much of anything.”

“Yeah.”

That’s it. That’s all I get. It’s enough that I’m starting to wonder if I’m imagining the way he keeps looking at me. Maybe my mental health isn’t as improved as I thought? Maybe I’m delusional? Hallucinating things. Manufacturing my own reality.

Dr. Haynes once asked if I thought the reason I’d never been in love was because I spent too long daydreaming about it. She was trying to suggest that I’m too scared to open up, but I’m sorry, have we not listened to the things that have happened to me? People are the literal fucking worst.

"What are you studying?" Brooke asks me. Her face is laden with makeup, and her pink lipstick hasn't smudged at all.

“English.” I turn in my chair so I can see her without twisting awkwardly. "I copied my brother because I’m a loser. You?"

“Psychology.” She smiles warmly, sitting straighter, one hand smoothing a chocolate-brown curl away from her cheek. “I want to be a therapist, eventually. Maybe work with kids. My dad’s a psychiatrist and Mum’s a civil servant, so there was never much chance of me getting away with not having a decent career. They’ve worked me pretty hard and can be strict as hell.”