Page 23 of Heartache Duet

Rhys: Who’s this?

Connor: Connor.

Rhys: Hey man, what’s up?

I stop pacing.

Start again.

Drop my phone on the bed.

Pick it up.

Suck it up.

Connor: Do you have Ava’s number? I need to talk to her about the psych paper.

Seconds pass.

Then minutes.

Fricken eons.

When he finally responds, he has her number attached and the words:

Rhys: Remember: whatever she does, don’t let it affect you. And whatever you do, don’t fucking hurt her.

Connor: Thanks… I guess?

I go back to pacing. Preparing—out loud—the first message I’ll send. “Hey… Hi, it’s Connor… Hey, it’s me, Connor… Yo… Yo, it’s Connor from school…”

Dad opens my door without knocking, interrupting my absurdity. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

He taps on the door. “I’m heading out…” he trails off, the tension from earlier hanging between us.

“Okay.”

* * *

Connor: Hey, it’s Connor. From psych. I had an idea about the paper.

The swiftness of her response has my stomach flipping.

Ava: Hi Connor from psych :) What’s your idea?

Connor: I think I’ve come up with a subject that might set us apart.

Ava: Go on.

Connor: Serial Killers.

Ava: Dude

Connor: No? Too much? Too dark?

Ava: It’s fucking genius. I’m obsessed with true crime.

---