Page 24 of Problematic Summer Romance

I told Conor, and he listened, like he always did, saying very little, the slow rhythm of his breathing anchoring me through the phone. It always sounded the same, whether there were thousands of miles of ocean between us, or just a handful of Austin streets. Conor would listen, and sigh, and never gave me the platitudes everyone else dished out so easily—not your fault, you couldn’t have prevented it, only twelve, just lost your mother, not your responsibility.

Hearing that stuff only made the voices in my head louder. I never told Conor, but he had an instinct when it came to me. He knew that all I wanted was to not be alone. So he listened, and only once, late at night, a few weeks before putting an end to the calls, he said: “I wish I could bear this for you, Maya.” I believed him.

Because I’m a fucking idiot.

“It looks even better here than from home,” I say, blinking up at its bright, rusty color.

“I’m glad.”

Kaede gasps, delighted to hear Conor’s voice. Waddles our way as fireflies blink intermittently around her. Opens her little fist in his direction.

“Soil,” he says with a nod. “Of course.”

She blinks, owlish. Thrusts her chubby fingers at him.

“No,” he says flatly. “I’m not going to accept gifts of soil, dead plant matter, or rocks. I will not pretend to eat them. We have been over this multiple times, Kaede.”

Her round face splits in a toothy, charmed smile. No baby talk from Conor. Just straight-faced, adult interactions. He might respect her more than he does me.

Childish bratstill rings in my ears.

“Is it painful?” I ask impulsively. Vengefully, too.

“Is what?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Kaede, I guess.”

“Ah.” He shakes his head. “No. It’s not. Why would it be?”

“If you and Minami had stayed together, then Kaede would be yours.”

He smiles. “That’s not how meiosis works. You should have figured it out, since you’re the smartest person I know.”

I huff out a laugh. “I can’t be. It’s been years, and I still haven’t managed to figureyouout.”

“That’s because there’s nothing to figure out, Maya.”

“Agree to disagree. I wouldloveto know how you can go from being the most thoughtful person I’ve ever met to a raging asshole in no time. I would love to understand whether you’re pretending not to care now, or pretended to care for three years. Above all, and this might sound shallow, I’d love to know what the hell is going on here.” A confused silence. I feel his stare, and continue, “Why does nearly every woman in this house seem to have some kind of connection with you? There’s Minami, the historic ex. Avery, theotherex. Tamryn, the mysterious new entry. And then me, of course, the—”

“Don’t,” he says. So sharp that my eyes let go of Antares to find his. “Don’t put yourself in the same category as Minami, or Avery, or Tamryn. You do not belong there.”

It’s the verbal equivalent of a slap in the face. A deliberate one, I suspect. A few short years ago, the cruelty of his words would have sent me down a spiral of self-loathing and inadequacy. But I’ve been in therapy for too long to allow Conor Harkness, or anyone else, to make me feel inferior.

He doesn’t deserve my emotional turmoil, or my time.

I stand from the bench. At the table, Axel is brandishing a half-empty bottle of an orange liquor that looksexactlylike what I need right now. Lucrezia shakes her head, scowls, and he laughs.

Maybe she could use some moral support. “Keep an eye on Kaede,” I tell Conor.

“Where are you going?”

“Elsewhere.”

His large hand envelops my wrist. “Maya.”

“What?” I ask over my shoulder. “I’d like to diversify my insult portfolio for the evening, and I have already sampled your offerings—”

“That’s not what I—Fuck, Maya.” He sighs. Rubs his eyes with his fingers, likeIam the one who destroyshispeace of mind. Tugs me downward till we’re sitting side by side again.

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