“I seriously love you,” Connor said before turning fully and starting a light sprint down the hallway.
Students began pouring out of nearby classroom doors, blocking his way more and more as he expertly navigated them, dodging and weaving around bodies. The social sciences hallway would be emptying, and if Emery was part of the main throng, then Connor would simply tug him back into the hallway so they could do this in private.
That fight or flight sensation returned, and he fueled it into adrenaline to keep his legs pumping, running faster and faster as he passed more and more people who weren’t Emery. Maybe he was dragging his feet, as nervous to see Connor as Connor was to see him, and for the very same reason. That was the vibe Connor had been getting since last night, and after so long swearing he felt nothing even remotely romantic from his friend, Connor would know when things shifted, wouldn’t he? He’d know if this was something else, if it was just more of the same, instead of Emery finally coming to his senses. He’d have to.
Fewer and fewer people blocked his path, most ignoring him, paying no mind to a senior full out sprinting through the halls, but if Connor stopped now, he knew he’d turn on his heels and run the other direction. He just had to reach the end of the hall, turn the corner toward the Psych room. He could already picture it—Emery standing there, having come out of class late for whatever imagined reason, looking up just as Connor dashed into view, that blinding smile breaking across his face.
Maybe Connor would just kiss him. Throw all his insecurities aside and kiss him like some cheesy rom-com movie, and everything would fall into place without having to say a word. He’d kiss Emery, Emery would kiss him back, and the confessions would pour forth from both of them when the kiss ended, Emery having finally realized that he’d felt the same way all along and just never knew it.
Fireworks, music swell, magic. If this was Connor’s story, he deserved that kind of ending. Wasn’t that what everyone had been telling him? That if he didn’t reach out and pen in the ending to his own story himself, it would never happen?
This was it, he was finally going to come clean, finally going to tell Emery everything he’d been terrified to say for so many years—years—and grasp his happily ever after, despite any roadblock or stumbling mistake that might come after.
He felt foolish for waiting for so long, felt that awful twist in his stomach unwind and lighten and transform into blind excitement. He could do this. He wanted to do this. He’d just needed a final push, and if nothing else, Emery’s smile the night before, and the pleasant, nervous tension between them this morning was all the encouragement he needed to believe his feelings were returned.
Connor crested the corner, a faint squeak of his sneakers sounding when he pivoted, all bystanders gone, behind him now, heading for the cafeteria or other classrooms, as the social sciences hallway came into view.
And everything stopped. Dulled. Dimmed. At the sight of Emery almost like Connor had envisioned. But in the arms of his ex-girlfriend.
Fuck.
Chapter 24
“Emery, can I talk to you?”
I spun around as I made to leave the Psych room for lunch to see Liz following closely at my heels. I slowed, throat suddenly tight. “Uh, sure. What…what about?”
She gestured ahead and we continued out of the room. Sometimes I forgot we had this class together, since we sat on opposite ends of the room and hadn’t really talked since the breakup.
Her brunette ponytail sat high on her head, gently curled. She didn’t wear makeup other than lip-gloss and eyeliner, but she looked especially pale today, like she might be coming down with something. Then I realized—she was nervous.
She pulled me a step further down the hall, away from the door so we could be alone, as everyone else headed in the other direction. Anticipation flared inside me. She had a date to Prom, I’d heard, this wasn’t some last ditch effort ‘let’s go together since we would have if we hadn’t broken up’ thing. But then what?
“Yeah?”
Her arms tightened around her books; she didn’t like to carry a bag. The way she smiled, like all of her attention was on me, reminded me why I’d liked her in the first place, even if the smile didn’t reach her eyes with anything but gloom. “We’ve been avoiding each other.”
Oh god. What if it was a last ditch effort ‘let’s go to Prom’?
“And that’s silly, we were friends for so long before we dated. I know it’s because of how I broke things off, which was awful. Immature. I should have explained in person, talked things out with you instead of…” She looked at the floor.
“Breaking up with me through a note?” That had stung, especially since she’d handed it to me herself like we were in junior high and incapable of adult conversations.
“Yeah,” she said, slowly raising her eyes to mine. “You deserve to know why. The truth is, I like you, Emery. Who wouldn’t? You have all the qualities I thought I’d want in a boyfriend—smart, driven, cute.” A corner of her mouth twitched up.
For a moment I felt dread, but something in her expression said this wasn’t leading to her begging me to take her back.
“You’re a wonderful guy, Emery, but despite everything that went right, everything that’s so great about you, I never felt that spark. I would have broken things off sooner, but it’s senior year and…I know how stupid this is going to sound, but what I dreaded most was the thought of having to start over.”
I wasn’t sure if I should feel relief or shame that we’d been thinking the same thing. “That isn’t stupid.”
“It’s not fair though. Staying together because we should have made the perfect couple, without actually feeling like we were. Not that it was any fairer to shove a note in your hands and run off,” she hugged her books tighter to her chest like a stuffed animal, “but that’s why I wanted you to know. I want to be with someone who makes my heart race. Who makes me smile just by walking into the room. Maybe that’s cheesy or too romantic. Maybe I’m setting myself up for failure, wanting some fairytale ending. But I don’t think it’s too much to ask to have all the right things fall into place and also feel a spark that shakes you right to the core of who you are, every time you see them.”
Her eyes glossed over as she said it, imagining that dream coming true, someone I could never be for her. It was cheesy. And romantic. But it was too nice a thought to want to tell her she was wrong. I wanted that too. I’d always wanted that. I don’t know what had made me think it was ever right to settle. Because only one person always made me smile just by walking into the room.
“It’s not too much to ask,” I said, feeling an ease and warmth ebb through me, the last bit of tightness that had existed wondering if I could ever pass Liz in the hallways again without flinching, falling away. “Do you think…” I trailed, but bolstered myself to ask, “Do you think that spark is something you only ever feel at first sight? Or is it something that can grow over time?”
Tension filled her shoulders as she looked away.
“I’m not saying—” I shook my head, feeling too dense for my own good. “I don’t mean us. I know we’re not right for each other, Liz, you did the right thing, even if it wasn’t the best way. I agree with everything you’ve said, but do you think it’s possible? That a spark could be there but you keep missing it or misinterpreting it, and suddenly, one day, it’s just…there?”
The warm brown of her eyes searched my face, and finally the smile she offered me touched every part of her expression. “Sounds like you already know the answer to that question.”
I laughed, used my free hand to scratch my neck, while the other readjusted the backpack over my shoulder. “Yeah…maybe. Hey,” I met her gaze again, earnestly as I could, “thanks for this. For telling me. I like being friends. We should be friends. I’m not mad at you. I think it all happened the way it
was supposed to.”
“Me too. And I am sorry, Emery. Lesson learned. Breaking up with a note is a total dick move,” she nodded resolutely.
We shared a laugh, loudly and all too familiar. I reached forward with my right hand and pulled her against me, hugging her, feeling her snuggle and chuckle into my chest, arms encumbered with her books but still able to lean into my body. For today, closure for this one lingering part of my messed up teenage life felt like everything I needed.
I couldn’t wait to see Connor again. I felt like I finally knew what to say to him.
And then there he was. Standing at the mouth of the hallway. Mouth open, limbs tense, eyes betrayed. I pulled away from Liz, but Connor was already backing out of the hallway, sending me this little salute and strained smile like he was ready to be a good friend and leave me in peace.
“Liz, I, uhh…” I snapped my attention back to her, “I have to catch up with someone. But thank you. Really.”
She nodded, might have said something more, but I didn’t hear her. Connor was out of sight by the time I dashed after him, but I had to find him. I might have even used my vampire speed, regardless of who might see, but once I cleared the opening and turned to head down the next hallway, he was already gone.
~
Connor
Connor considered feigning illness to get out of classes the rest of the day. He felt nauseous enough. But when he arrived back in the main commons area, having taken back hallways to be alone for a few minutes, Aurora had him by the arm before he could dart off to the nurse’s office.
“Jules said you were going to confess to Mavus. So?” She eyed him hopefully.
Connor gasped, out of breath from sprinting. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t explain, just shook his head.
Emery joined the group, eyes trained on Connor, but Jules and Nick were there too, and a handful of others, so whatever Emery might have said got drowned out by the bustle of the cafeteria. Connor grabbed Aurora’s hand when she tried to pull away, keeping her at his side as they moved to the front of the group to keep Emery behind them.
At the lunch table they talked around each other, participating in conversations but never directly to one another. Connor glanced away if he ever caught Emery’s eyes on him. The thought of Emery getting him alone made the nausea worse, explaining the situation like he owed him, like he knew and pitied him because he was going to be happy with Liz again, obviously, get back together and forget whatever nonsense Connor had invented was happening between them.
They didn’t have any classes together after lunch. It was easy to nod as everyone parted, mutter a simple, “Later, Em,” like everything was normal.
Emery hadn’t mentioned anything to anyone about what happened with Liz. Maybe they were still working things out, didn’t want to be public. Maybe Emery wanted to get Connor alone first to tell him they wouldn’t be going to Prom together after all.
After the last bell, Connor dashed into the bathroom and dry heaved for five minutes but nothing came up. He felt as helpless as he had when he first realized he loved Emery. There had been no joy in the revelation, only panic and fear.
He knew that eventually they’d have to talk this out, at least about Liz, but he wanted to avoid it for as long as possible. If Emery did know and gave him some ‘we’ll always be friends’ speech, Connor would never recover. He didn’t want to feel that kind of pain, which he knew would somehow be worse than what he felt now.
He plastered on a smile, glad that Aurora and Jules rode with them to the middle school. He stared at Aurora pleadingly to pull her usual move of claiming the front seat, even though Emery attempted to go for it, and sighed relief when Emery had to climb into the back instead.
Connor’s grip on the steering wheel was knuckle-white the entire way despite the jokes he made, the way he laughed, and listened to what the girls said. Emery remained quiet, not joining in as he had at lunch. The rift between them felt ten miles long.
Emery expected honesty from him and he had lied and hid things from him for years. He might not even be remotely attracted to guys, let alone Connor, and that was no one’s fault. Connor just needed to cool off, put some distance between himself and what had happened so that eventually the distance between them lessened.
He couldn’t be with Emery forever as just his friend, but he could be his friend for his entire, short-lived, human life and take some solace in that. Even if one-day Emery turned someone else to spend eternity with.
Connor went through the motions backstage, direct and deliberate in everything he did. When it was time to prep Emery’s pants, there was no teasing banter, no flush to his cheeks, just the nausea. Feeling the warmth of Emery’s skin beneath his fingers when he undid the button, slid down the zipper, dropped it belt and all to the floor, made him tremble.
“Connor,” Emery whispered, staring right at him. Connor could feel the heat of his gaze even while trying to avoid it. “Can we talk? After practice? I really need to talk to you.”
He stepped back, his chest tight and breaths labored from being so close to Emery, hidden from everyone else in this part of the set. He glanced up, Emery’s eyes looking dark in the shadows but still green, always so green. Emery had a plate of sardines taped to his hand, a piece of paper taped to the other, his pants down around his ankles, and it should have been hilarious, ridiculous. But he looked beautiful to Connor, no matter what he wore, or said, or did, just by standing there.
Connor’s eyes felt hot, budding with tears he refused to let Emery see. “Sorry, Em, I’m not feeling so good right now, and I have this, uh…test tomorrow, so I should get in some last minute studying. I think I might head home early. I’ll ask Nick to give you a ride, yeah? I’ll make sure he can before I go. Must have caught that bogus flu bug of yours.” He tried to smile, to joke, to brush the whole thing off.
Emery’s eyes and lips downturned all at once like he was melting. “Okay. But we’ll talk tomorrow, right?”
Connor nodded, backing away, not looking at Emery or anything really as he nearly clipped a flat with his arm. “Yeah, Em, ‘course.”
“Feel better.”
“Sure. Knock ‘em dead.” He cleared the set pieces, turned around and waited for the moment when he knew Emery could no longer see him. Then he was running.
Chapter 25
Connor
“Hey, kiddo, what’s up?” Connor’s dad asked when he walked in the door at 8:30. “Can’t be done with practice early, it’s your first full dress rehearsal, right?”
Connor sighed and dropped his bag onto the bench by the entryway. He toed off his shoes and lugged his way into the living room. His dad had an old episode of Kitchen Nightmares on, Gordon Ramsay’s English-accented voice yelling dimly in the background. His dad turned it down a couple notches as Connor came in and slumped down onto the sofa next to him. His mother had 3rd shift tonight at the hospital.
“Gonna share, or do I have to pry it outtaya?” his father nudged him. He was skinny like Connor but all muscle. With the way Connor was sagged into the cushions, he nearly fell over from the firm push.
“Not feeling well.”
“Liar. What’s the real answer?”
“Urg.” Connor dropped his head back against the cushions, watching some blond chef yell about Yelp scores ruining her business instead of her terrible cooking.
“I’d guess girl trouble, but I know I’m not that lucky.”
Connor groaned again.
“Only teasing.” He reached over and scrubbed his hand over Connor’s shorn head. “I’ll just never get past not being able to bond over the wonders of boobs with my son.”
“Hey,” Connor sat up straighter, “we’ve had this discussion. I agree on the wonders of boobs. Boobs are awesome, I love boobs, I just prefer them at a distance.” He gestured out toward t
he television and the rather busty waitresses as he collapsed back into the cushions. He didn’t feel the same anxiety he used to talking about this sort of thing with his dad, not like after he’d first come out. He knew his father meant well, he just didn’t handle unexpected change with much grace.
There was laughter in his father’s voice as he said, “Okay, okay, you’re a boobiphile who doesn’t want a girlfriend, I can dig it. But no boyfriend either, huh?”
“Dad…”
“Hey, I can inquire. It’s my right as parental figure here. It’s just weird, I don’t know,” he said, crossing his arms and lounging back to mirror Connor. “I feel the same way about you dating some boy as I do your sister.”
“Really? I thought dads were supposed to be protective of their baby girls, but secretly hope their son is a sex god.” Connor snorted. If his father did want that of him, he was going to be sorely disappointed.
“I think it’s different than that, actually,” his father said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Coz see, imagining you with some girl…” he sighed, looking off past the TV, “I think, if you could be half as lucky as I was winning over your mom, well, there you go, how could I not be happy? But thinking of you and Ryn both bringing home some guy…that just makes me think of myself, and how I still don’t deserve your mother. I guess it’s more projection than sexism? Maybe not with all fathers, but you know, for decent, enlightened men like me.” He brought one hand to his chest and patted it dramatically.
Connor laughed.
“Just make sure he’s a good guy, whoever he ends up being, okay?” He reached over and grabbed Connor’s head again, shaking him playfully.
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