Page 7 of Heart Strings

I sigh, clutching the towel like a lifeline. “Just... give me a minute to get dressed.”

Connor nods, still facing the wall. “Take your time, Tink. I’ll just... I’ll be in the living room,” he says before scurrying out of my bedroom as fast as he could with one hand holding the tray.

As I dress hurriedly, my mind is a chaotic mess. Connor in my apartment, making breakfast, seeing me naked – it’s all too much to process before coffee.

When I finally emerge, dressed and significantly less mortified, I find him on the couch, his head in his hands. He looks up as I approach, a sheepish smile on his face, and there’s a flush to his cheeks that matches mine.

“I’m really sorry, Tink. I wanted to do something nice, you know, to thank you for taking care of me yesterday. That was not how I planned this morning to go at all.”

I sit down next to him on the couch. “It’s okay, Con, just... warn me next time before you bring the breakfast brigade into my room,” I say, attempting a smile.’

He nods, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, sorry, again. I didn’t see much, I promise.”

I let out a huff of laughter despite myself. “Oh, shut up, you’re just making it worse.”

He chuckles, the tension between us starting to dissipate. “So, no more surprise breakfasts?”

“Surprises are fine, just... maybe after I’ve had a chance to put on clothes.”

He grins at that, his usual easy charm back in place. “Noted. So, are you going to let me redeem myself with this breakfast, or what?”

I can’t help but laugh, reaching for the tray he brought in. “What did you make, anyway?”

“Blueberry pancakes. Your favorite,” he says proudly..

I can’t help the smile that finally breaks through. “I suppose you’re forgiven. But only because you brought food,” I say, and as if on cue, my stomach rumbles at the sight of them. “Well, Mr. Rockstar, I happened to have missed your pancakes, so thank you.”

Connor follows me to the kitchen, where he sets the tray down. “So, we good?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.

I nod, taking in the breakfast spread he brought. “Yeah, we’re good.” My heart is still settling back into its regular rhythm, but the warmth in his eyes makes up for the scare. “But Connor, seriously, knock next time, okay?”

He laughs, the sound rich and genuine. “Knock, got it. I’ll tattoo it on my forehead.”

I roll my eyes, picking up a piece of toast and taking a bite. “Don’t you dare use this as some new song inspiration,” I warn him.

He pretends to ponder the idea. “‘The Girl with the Towel’ does have a certain ring to it.”

“Don’t you dare, Connor Owens!” I say as I chuck a bunched-up paper towel at him.

Smooth as anything, he catches the paper towel, laughing. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Tink.”

We eat in comfortable silence, the earlier mishap already becoming a memory we’ll laugh about later. Or much, much later, in my case.

As I’m finishing up my last pancake, I look over at him, his face more relaxed now. “You know, you didn’t have to do all this.”

He shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. “I wanted to. After everything that’s happened, I just wanted to do something... normal, I guess.”

I reach over, giving his hand a squeeze. “Well, it’s the most normal thing that’s happened in a while.”

We clear the dishes together, the domesticity of it all feeling strangely comforting. It’s during these quiet moments that I remember the Connor from before the fame, the friend who’d just hang out at my place, no agenda, no pressures.

“So, what are your plans for today?” I ask as I wipe my hands on a kitchen towel.

He ties his hair up and seems to think about it for a second. “I’m not sure yet. Being on the road for so long, I’ve kinda forgotten how it feels to just do … nothing.”

“Well, I could take the day off and we can do nothing together?” I suggest and immediately see the sparkle in those baby blues. “We could make a day of it.”

“I think I’d like that a lot,” he says, but then he looks sheepish. “But only if you really can afford to close the bookstore.”

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