Ella - July 2018

***

Staring into the camera, I flash my degree certificate and the smile I've been wearing for most of the day. My dad's arm is hooked around my waist, the proud grin permanently plastered on, so he doesn't have to crack it for the photo. Mum's smile is, as always, posed.

"Done!" Dean hands my dad back the camera before giving me a look as if he were the cat that got the cream. I don't reciprocate; we both know I don't need to.

The instant my dad's hand moves, I feel him sigh in annoyance and the smile dissolves. Clearly, he just wants to get home.

"We'll get that one developed, Ella, and put it on the wall." Mum cups my face so I can see the pride in her giddy eyes. I nod at her before she lets me go.

I search around, desperate to spy Matt between the rest of the gowned graduates, but he's nowhere to be seen. He's easy to spot with his tall stature, but I still he's not here. When he went up to the podium to collect his certificate earlier, I caught his eye and beamed my pride in him. He tried to keep his composure, but those brown eyes betrayed him when they caught mine across the room. That oval face suits that mortarboard and the black suit I helped him pick out a couple of weeks ago enhances his now shaved angular jaw.

When I don't spot him in the crowd, a frown clouds my happiness. I suppose the sight of his 'competition' is enough to scare him away. It would scare me away, too.

Dean engulfs me in a hug before I know where I am. My nose meets his hard, chiselled chest. "I'm proud of you, Ells, all grown up."

"Don't call me that," I warn. Despite the comforting scent of that subtle aftershave and the familiarity of him, he remains nothing more than the childhood friend I've pushed away because of our intertwined futures. I scoff silently at the way he says my nickname – it's coming from the wrong person. I didn't even want to invite him here; he doesn't belong here.

I let him go, and the shift in position and the typical sea breeze threaten to knock the mortarboard off my head. Dean wipes his head, a couple of stray black hairs getting blown out of place. I glance around me at the dressed-up Guildhall Square; the white Solent University Marquee takes up most of the sprawling space. Pissed-off Council workers try to rush between the Southampton Council buildings and the City Centre for their lunches. The typical Southampton weather: sunny yet colder than it should be, given we're the furthest south of mainland England you can get.

Part of me has been waiting for this moment of pride – every year I've seen this scene, and every year I've waited my turn to hold my degree and graduate, but a part of me never wanted this moment to come.

Graduating for everyone else in my cohort means going out into the world, getting a master's degree, or going to a job. Graduating for me, Ella Webb, means I must get married to Dean Atkins and become a housewife for the rest of my life. It also means that I have to give up on the love of my life and my freedom because my parents signed an agreement before I was even conceived.

"I promised you a meal out, didn't I, Chick?" Dad smiles. His hand pats my shoulder before I glance around one last time, desperate to see Matt again, with that illuminating smile, the tiny freckle between his brow, his tiny dimple, and the passion in which he does anything and everything.

I turn around, disappointment flicking on like a lightbulb when someone bumps into me.

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

I register the bright smile and the way he presses a small piece of paper in my hand as he steadies me back on my feet, his touch bringing me to life. We're supposed to act like we don't know each other, but he can't help himself. Despite the awkwardness, the way I didn't want to be here if it was without Matt, this is enough. For now.

"No worries," I reply, playing along with him. The smile between us is discreet yet it means so much. He quickly walks off, blending in with the crowd at the same time as Dean appears in his place, forcing the fire inside to die down and my mood to turn sour. The woody scent of his aftershave lingers in the air even though he's disappeared. I pop the small piece of paper into my clutch bag, so no one sees.

A hand appears around my waist, and my heart speeds up, my breath hitching in my throat, hoping it's Matt again. I quickly look to my side, about to tell him off for being so bold with my family around, but when I realise it's Dean with his blue eyes staring into mine, I shrink.

"Please stop," I warn, pushing him off. The lingering bristles of his touch make me feel colder. His smile fades. He's taller than me, by a lot, meaning his hand naturally pauses at my waist. I hate it, but at least he can't reach further down.

"You're going to have to get used to it soon enough, Ella," Dean hisses as we catch up to my parents. We cross the road, and I thank all that is holy that the restaurant is literally across the road from graduation, so I don't have to endure them for longer than necessary.

"I'm not going to get used to you touching me," I hiss back, and he gives me a hurt-filled look as we stand in front of my restaurant of choice.

"Why on earth would you want to come here, Ella?" my dad demands, his nose turning up. He was expecting me to choose something expensive and upmarket, not a chain restaurant where you eat chicken with your hands.

"Because you told me for my graduation day, I can go anywhere I like, Dad, and I want to come here," I respond, opening the door and ushering them in. My parents will be the ones who eat grilled marinated chicken with cutlery, napkins tucked into their expensive clothes. I was contemplating taking them to another restaurant for American ribs and chicken, but if my dad gets this fussy over grilled chicken, I imagine he'd have a heart attack just looking at a rack of ribs. Smiling, I remember the first time I went there with Matt – apparently, I looked like a deer in headlights. I dread to think of how Dad would have reacted.

***

I walk into the bathroom stall, locking the door behind me. Luckily, I took off my mortarboard and gown at the table, so I don't have to faff around to find the piece of paper.

When I open it, I smile immediately, my entire body firing in forbidden delight. 'Ells Bells, I'll be over tonight. You look gorgeous as usual. Love you, Matty xxx.'

I hold the note to my chest, imagining him scribbling it down as quickly as possible so he could pass it to me. He could have texted me, but I suppose my family would only want to know who was interrupting our time together, and he knows a note does unspeakable things to my heart.

I grab my phone from my bag and tap him a quick message: 'Thank you for the note. I'll see you later. Love you xxx.'

I know they'll start worrying about where I am by now, so I gather my things and exit the bathroom, smoothing down my black dress as I go.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?" Mum asks. I look between each of the plates and laugh. Dean and I are the only ones who have our chicken 'hot' spicy. My mum and dad both have little white 'plain' flags sticking out of their chicken like a stick of shame in their food. If anyone were to look over, they could probably tell that I'm the child of rich snobs like my parents. Their idea of a meal out would include spending two hundred quid on two courses and one drink, not spending thirty quid on some spicy chicken and chips, but it's my idea of heaven because I'm never allowed it, or at least wasn't until I left for university.

"So, we need to discuss the wedding planning now you have graduated, Ella. You have had your three years of... education. The Atkins and us would like to move on and set a date for the wedding," Dad pipes up before forking chicken into his mouth. Immediately, the drooling sensation for the food in front of me turns into a stomach-rolling, bile-inducing distaste. Instead of engaging, I stand up and head to the drink refill machine. I knew they were keen to force me into this stupid marriage, but I'd barely been a graduate for two hours and they're ready to set a damn date.

It's enough that I had to pitch my idea to them like I was on The Apprentice and needed permission to apply for university. It was even more ridiculous that my father had to get permission from Dean's parents to allow me to get an education and postpone 'the wedding of the century.' Now the two minutes of being proud of me and acting like a normal, happy family are over, it's time for them to get down to business.

When I return to the table and take a sip of fizzy lemonade, I watch the awkward glances coming from all three of them.

Dean smiles at me before looking back at my dad. His straight jaw tightens for a second while he runs a coarse hand through his black hair. "I think we should maybe meet in a couple of days at our house and discuss setting a date for the wedding. Give Ella a chance to settle into being a graduate. She has worked hard, Adrian, and I think a couple of days would suit her fine. We have the rest of our lives, after all."

For one of the first times since we found out about this shit-show of a future, I feel an ounce of appreciation toward him.

"As much as I would like to get on with it, I think that seems fair enough," Dad agrees, though I can see the annoyance in the way he cuts the chicken like he's hacking it with an axe. "Do you agree, Martha?"

My Mum looks up from her food and nods sadly. "Yes, I think that is fair enough."

I tear the chicken off the bone with my hands, and I can feel both my parents staring at me in disgust, and I can hear their voices in my head: 'This is not how we raised you, Ella,' and 'have some decorum,' but I really don't care. I haven't been living in their house or under their rules for three years. There is a lot they don't know about me, not just the way I eat chicken nowadays.

***

When I get into my flat, I kick my shoes off with a sigh. It's been a long day and all I want to do is get into the bath, soak it all off and not think about what's to come in my life. I switch the light on in the lounge, put my certificate and bag down on the table, and smile to myself.

"Ells."

My head snaps to my left, the thump of my heart going nuts. I know that nickname, I know that smoky voice, and as I look at him, my entire body sings.

He's still dressed in his black suit and white shirt with the top buttons undone, his dark curls unusually neat. He looks at me as if I were the only drink in the desert.

"Matt." I melt in his embrace. He kisses the top of my head.

"You forget every time that I have a key, don't you?" He chuckles, and I don't need to answer. "Congratulations on graduating, Ells Bells."

The tingle that runs up my spine at his pet name for me makes it feel colder than it is for July.

"Congratulations to you, too, Matty," I joke, my head tipping back with a smile on my face. He brings me back up as if we were dancing, and my hair falls over my face so all I can see is the blonde hair I wish I'd put up.

"Kiss me," he says, moving the hair from my face. His hand touches my lips with his smooth fingers, and the seriousness that falls between us is electrifying. We both know we shouldn't be doing this; we both knew things would only be temporary between us until this day. But Matty's the north magnet to my south, and no matter what, we always find ourselves attracted to one another.

When our lips meet, I instantly feel like I'm home. He tastes like strawberries, which means he's been putting my lip balm on again. I smirk against his mouth, and I can feel it driving him crazy enough to deepen our kiss.

As quickly as it starts, we part and stare at each other, both knowing we want more.

"Here, a graduation gift." He smiles, and I already know what it is. He always gets me the same gift and every time it takes my breath away. I take the white paper bag, taking out a pack of bluebell bulbs. I smile to myself; a bittersweet reminder of the first time he gifted it, and what could now be the last time.

"Bluebells for my Ells Bells," he announces. I kiss him lightly.

"Thank you," I whisper, passing him his gift from the table. "One for you." I watch him open the box, his eyes lighting up at the watch I bought him. "Read the back of the watch face."

He takes it out of the box and turns the face over. He reads the inscription out loud, 'Matty, I love you. Now and forever. All my love, your Ells Bells.'

"Happy Graduation Day." I smile, though we both feel the significance weigh on our shoulders. He engulfs me in a cuddle. My head only reaches his chest where he's so much taller than me, but it means we're the perfect fit.

"It's perfect. Thank you," he whispers, pressing a kiss on my head.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Ells Bells." He pauses, sighs, and runs a hand across his face. We both know what's coming. "When is the—" He stops, the unsaid question obvious. We part and look at each other.

"I've got to go to their house in two days. They'll set a date then," I answer, grabbing my hair and tying it up out of my face. "I don't know what to do."

The silence is filled with a tension that I could easily chop in half with the heels of my shoes. I go to the fridge and get out the prosecco I've been chilling for the past two days in preparation for my graduation. The original plan was to come home and drink it out of the bottle while soaking in the bath and enjoying a job well done, at the same time as trying to come up with a new way of getting out of this forced marriage. For too long, I've been complacent, and now it's real.

"Why do they have to force this on you?" Matt speaks up as I grab two glasses and take them over to the lounge. He recoils at the thought. "It's ridiculous, they haven't even told you why."

"I've never been told why. Every time I've asked since I was sixteen, I just get told it's just the way it has to be," I repeat for the hundredth time since I told him three years ago.

"Maybe we should fight it. Properly. Together. Let them know that they can't separate us," he offers, and I turn to him silently. His eyes are narrow in anger, the tips of his perfectly small ears turning red. We both know it can't happen. "Just because they're your parents doesn't mean you have to do as they say, Ells."

"Matty, my family and his family are powerful. They'd find a way to make me marry him," I say. "I could say no, but I'm sure my dad's prepared for that; it was hard enough to bargain for my degree. I dread to think about what they have up their sleeve if I refuse or run away. They told me at the time, if I refuse, we lose everything. I don't want to be the one with that on my conscience should it happen."

"Why have you given up?" he asks. His optimistic, smooth voice is full of sadness, and it stabs my heart. "You've always been up to fight it, why do you back down now that it's here?"

I sigh. "I never gave up, Matty. I've lived in a bubble for the past three years, and now the realism has come back to bite me on the arse. We've known this would come. You've known that from the day we met, or well, the day after we met if we want to be technical."

He stares at me with those irresistible eyes. They were the first thing I noticed when he appeared next to me in my first lecture, along with that smile that magnetises me to him, but that smile isn't there now.

I pop the cork on the bottle and the tension bubbles away as I pour us both a drink.

"To graduating," he toasts, though the devastation stains his expression. There's no enthusiasm in his toast, and we both know it.

"To being adults," I joke. We clink our glasses together, toasting to a new stage in our lives; one that will force us apart in more ways than one.