Page 78 of Conquering Conner

He’s quiet for a moment, probably digesting what I said as much as the tone it was delivered in. I’ve never snapped at him before. I’ve always been patient. Accommodating. He’s never had to share me before. He’s always been my only real friend… but it’s more than that. I can hear it in his voice. “What happened?”

“Nothing…” He sounds subdued. “I miss you. I haven’t talked to you in ages.”

I sigh. “I miss you too.” I do. Jeremy is fun and, our fake relationship aside, uncomplicated. I miss having him around to make me laugh and lecture me about how I treat my delicates—which is the exact wrong thing to think about because now I’m thinking about the fact that Conner never gave my panties back. Makes me wonder what he’s doing with them.

I clear my throat. “I’ll be home soon, okay?” I say it to reassure him because that’s what this is about. He hasn’t talked to me for a few weeks and he’s worried. “Just a few more weeks and everything can go back to the way they were.” I have to force the words out. Make myself say them. Make myself sound like I can’t wait for my time here to be over.

“How’s Magic Mike?” he says, laughing at his own joke, sounding more like himself.

“Don’t call him that.” This time I absolutely mean to snap at him. “His name is Conner.”

I look at the booth where Tess and Conner are camped out. Tess is polishing off her bacon burger, her mouth moving between bouts of chewing while Conner looks right at me.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say he knew exactly what I just said. As soon as our eyes lock, he looks away, leaning into Tess to say something that makes her laugh. “I have to go,” I say into the phone. “I’m on my lunch break and I need to get back to the library.”

“Oh.” Jeremy sounds puzzled. Like he doesn’t know what a lunch break is. Like he can’t comprehend what it’s like to not be able to sleep until noon and buy anything you want, no matter the cost. “Well—”

“I’ll call you tonight—love you.” I cut him off, ending the call because I don’t want to talk anymore. Talking to him makes it harder for me to pretend that this is my real life. That I can stay.

I look toward the booth where Conner and Tess are sitting, heads bent together, talking quietly. He’s got his arm draped across the bench seat, his thumbs casually brushing against her shoulder whenever one of them shifts in their seat.

That’s what friends look like.

Watching them, that’s all I can think.

That’s what friends look like.

And no matter how hard we try or how much we pretend, it is something that Conner and I will never really be.

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