Page 17 of Dare to Fall

“Are you seriously doing this right now, Connor?”

He shrugged his shoulders and stared blankly at me.

Heat trickled up my neck and burned against my cheeks. “I work out really hard every single day. Harder than you and Brent combined. So, if I want to eat a fucking cheeseburger because it tastes good, then I am going to eat a cheeseburger. Don’t start getting mighty on me now that you think you know something about being healthy.”

He leaned toward me. “You don’t have to raise your voice at me, Eva. I’m just trying to help.”

I rolled my eyes and stuffed a fry into my mouth. “The only person you try to help is yourself, Connor. I’m tired of always feeling pressured to do things howyoudo them. Let me be myself.” My voice cracked on my last words.

Angry tears welled in my eyes, but I blinked them away. I didn’t wanthimto see me cry. Not when he was acting like this.

He just looked at me, his head cocked to the side as though he were seeing me for the first time and wasn’t sure what to think. Then, he picked up his fork and knife and started eating again as if nothing happened. The hole in my chest cracked open a fraction more as I watched the man I love change before my very eyes. Our love, once carefree and passionate, now felt like a wet blanket laying in the corner.

Used up and forgotten. And I didn’t know why.

The sound of “You Don’t Own Me”by Grace blared through my headphones, my rapid breath a faint pulse against the thudding beat of the song that summed up everything I was feeling right now. I was able to take it for so many years, being forced into a box that suffocated every last piece of my true self. That was what he wanted from me. Connor was constantly trying to mold me into something I wasn’t. And I fucking fell for it. ForyearsI fell for his sweet charm and those amazing kisses. Kisses that had been stolen from me after spending just one summer apart.

My legs had turned numb a mile ago. I was pushing myself harder than I had in months because of the summer heat. But I had to run this off—this edgy feeling that I was about to burst at the seams if I tried to contort my soul into the smothering box he crafted for me.

A ping pierced my ears, and I almost tripped from the sudden interruption. My heart raced from the near misstep just as my headphones pinged three more times. Slowing my pace, I checked my Apple watch to see that Connor had sent four texts. I rolled my eyes and debated whether I should open them now or later. I didn’t think I could take any more of his criticism without blowing up on him. Drops of sweat dripped onto the watch screen as the notification disappeared. My eyebrows shot up as I realized the running application said I was just over six miles in.

Shit.

I looked around and noticed that I was right on the edge of a not-so-good part of town, so I decided to head back before the sun set too low. Too many stories of girls being trafficked in Orlando started running through my mind as I unzipped my runner’s pouch and slid my phone out to keep handy in case I needed it. It only took a moment before the itch to read Connor’s text messages took over—and just a moment more before I opened the text thread.

Connor:Listen, babe, I’m really sorry about what I said. I’ve been under a lot of pressure from my parents lately to nail these med school applications, and I’m just taking the stress out on you. I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Okay?

My heart dropped as my mind raced through a whirlwind of thoughts. Maybe Iwastaking everything way too personally. He had always been particular about what he expected of me and our future together, sure. But he loved me, and I loved him despite it all. And we’d been really good for a long time. It was natural for relationships to fizzle out and come back to life again, especially when there was stress involved. Right?

I thought back to all the summers I spent at his parents’ home. They were nothing like my own parents who tended to be more settled and relaxed. Our home was a perfect nest of comfort where everyone was accepting and there was an abundance of love to be found. Where my parents were warm and welcoming, Connor’s parents were cold and rigid. His childhood home was more like a museum. Everything was perfectly tidy at all times, and there was never a moment when I saw his parents give him any form of affection. They had very specific expectations of their son—and anyone who decided to be a part of his life.

If they were giving him hell about his applications, then I could understand the stress. Not that he had any right taking it out on me, but at least it made a little more sense. Things had been so off lately, and I missed us, the way we were when we had first started dating—so in love it was almost obnoxious to be around us.

My head buzzed thinking of how to respond. The hurt remained in my heart from the distance he’d put between us. Yet, there were still pieces aching for him. For what I knew he must have been going through from the pressure of his parents. I stared at the screen. Nothing came from the jumbled mess of my mind, so I decided to stash my phone away until I got back to the apartment.

The metal door handle was slick under my sweaty palm as I opened the front door to the apartment. Bracing myself on the wall, I slipped off my shoes and tossed them to the side. As I straightened up, I saw Drema leaning over a bewitching watercolor landscape, beautiful greens melding together, creating rolling hills below a captivating sunset. I stood there for several moments, letting myself get lost in her work.

She dropped her paintbrush into the tin can full of water.

My gaze flicked toward her as she swiveled on her little stool and turned toward me. A ridge formed between her brows. “Holy shit, you’re drenched.” She craned her neck toward the window behind her painting. “It wasn’t supposed to rain today. Why’re you so wet?”

I thought back to Connor’s unanswered text message, and my stomach churned. “Connor and I got into a fight. I went for another run to clear my head,” I said as I headed into the kitchen for a paper towel to wipe myself off.

“Shit, I’m sorry to hear that. Are you two okay now?”

I shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not really sure. Things have been so weird between us.” I nodded toward her painting in an effort to change the subject. I still wasn’t ready to think about Connor and me. “Is that for the exhibit?”

“Yeah,” she said as she glanced at it.

“It’s really good, Drema. Like, really fucking good.” I tossed the sweat-drenched paper towel into the trashcan and walked into the living room.

Drema plopped onto the couch and reached for her cell phone on the coffee table. A squeal escaped her lips, and I jumped.

“What the hell was that?” I asked, sliding my hands over my arms to rub away the goosebumps her shrill had caused.

She extended her cell phone toward me, a broad smile splitting her face as she bobbed up and down in her seat.

“They just announced the professional artist who will be showing at the exhibit! It’s Garth Walker!” My eyes grew wide as I took in my meek roommate who, in an instant, was completely transformed into a fangirl over thisGarth Walkerguy.

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