Page 72 of Kiss and Tell
Connor circled his arm around my waist and rested his hand on my hip, but didn’t go any further than that. He passed me tissues whenever tears welled up in my eyes and stroked my side with a comforting touch whenever a sob threatened to escape my throat.
When the movie ended, I used a handful of tissues to sop up the tears streaming down my face and turned my head to subtly dab at my nose.
“Maybe this was a bad idea.” Connor sat up from where he’d been slouched against the sofa cushions. “You’re all sad now. I’ve ruined the mood.”
“It’s a happy-sad kind of feeling,” I said.
“I still feel bad for making you cry,” he replied.
I reached for another tissue but found the box empty.
“Let me get you another one,” he said.
As Connor left the sofa and went down the hallway to the bathroom, I wiped at the last few tears with my sleeve. I checked to make sure I hadn’t left any black streaks. Thank god I’d worn water-proof mascara or else I would have looked like raccoon.
I wanted to be a polite houseguest, so I broke down the cardboard tissue box, pressing it down flat, and went to look for the recycling bin. I poked my head into the kitchen but didn’t see one. I wandered down the hallway, found a closet door, and opened it just to check if maybe this was where Connor kept the recycling.
I paused with the door half-open.
There was an acoustic guitar in the closet resting on a stand. It was made out of a dark wood. The body was lacquered and might have once been glossy and shiny, but there was a layer of dust on the surface.
“I’ve got some more tissues…”
Connor trailed off as he left the bathroom and found me poking around in his closet.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy,” I said. “I was looking for the recycling bin.” I held up the flat cardboard box as if I was brandishing evidence to try and prove my innocence.
“It’s okay,” he said quietly, his gaze fixated on the dusty guitar. “I really should move that somewhere else.”
“Is it your guitar?” I asked carefully.
“One of them,” he replied.
“Are the others lying around here somewhere, too?” I didn’t know where he would have put them. It wasn’t a huge apartment.
“I sold them.” His tone was even but I heard the regret behind the words.
“But you kept this one?” I asked. “Is it special?”
“It was my first.” He gave me a wry smile as he echoed my own words. “I know it’s stupid and sentimental, but I couldn’t let it go.”
“That’s not stupid.” I went up to him and placed a hand on his arm. “It’s important to you. Of course you’d want to keep it.”
“I don’t know why I did,” he said. “It’s not like I’m going to use it again.”
“Ever?” I blinked. “Don’t you still play music sometimes, even just for yourself?”
Connor’s fingers curled into a tight ball, then relaxed.
“I haven’t played much since…”
He dipped his head, staring down at his hand as he flexed it opened and closed. His expression was haunted, so haunted it tugged at something inside me.
I brought a hand to his cheek and lifted his head until he was looking at me.
“You haven’t played since when?” I asked softly.
His eyes were dark and fathomless as he stared into mine. He closed them and let out a heavy breath.
