Page 113 of Heartache Duet
His brow lifts. “I was telling you about the tournament this weekend. How there are going to be twenty-five college coaches and eight NBA scouts…”
I peer down at my phone again.
“Ava?!”
“Huh?” My eyes snap to his. “Sorry.”
“It’s cool,” he mumbles, his expression falling. He focuses on the road again. “I was just confessing all my fears and doubts to you, but it seems like you’re preoccupied...” Shaking his head, he adds, barely a whisper, “Like always.”
“I’m sorry,” I rush out, dropping my phone in my bag. I turn to him, give him my full attention. “I’m sorry,” I repeat. “Just start again.”
He shakes his head. “It’s fine.”
I grasp his arm. “Connor, no. Just tell me everything again.”
He pulls up in front of our houses, his gaze distant as he stares out through the windshield. “I have to get back to school. Coach is waiting for me.”
“What?” I huff out. Then realization dawns. “Wait, did you push back practice to give me a ride?”
Connor nods but keeps his eyes trained ahead.
My stomach sinks. “You didn’t have to drive me home.”
He turns to me now, his movements slow, and just like he stared out the window, he stares at me. Unblinking. But his gaze looks past me, and I feel… exposed. I watch him closely, see the disappointment in his eyes, the frustration in his brow. And I hear the defeat in his words when he says, “I just needed to talk to you.”
I exhale loudly, try to calm my thumping heart. “Connor, I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head, then reaches across me and opens my door. “I really do have to go.”
My stomach is in knots, and I don’t want to leave him, not like this. “How long will you be gone?”
Without looking at me, he says, “I don’t know, Ava.”
“Well, will you call me later?” I’m trying. I’m doing my best to fight for his forgiveness, but I don’t know how. “You think I can get my goodnight kiss?”
“Sure,” he says, but there’s no inflection in his tone. No promises.
And while my mind is back on that email trying to process everything it had to say, I get out of the car without another word and leave my heart in the driver’s seat, the distance between us growing with every second.
* * *
I spend the rest of the night worrying about Connor, or more specifically, Connor and me, when I know I should be more concerned about Mom’s insurance. It doesn’t escape me that I seem to be focusing on Connor when I’m around my mom and then my mom when I’m around Connor, and I really wish there was a switch for my brain. I wish I could train it to stop and go at the right times. I wish my mind weren’t always stuck in a fog. I wish… I wish for so many things. But right now, I wish for Connor. For him to message me and tell me he’s home and that he wants his kiss.
It’s eleven thirty, and I still haven’t heard from him.
Dread pools in the pit of my stomach, because I know how flakey I’ve been lately. I can see how frustrated he’s getting with me, and I want to make it up to him. I do. I just don’t have the time or the resources or the… I fight back the constant thoughts attempting to ruin what we have.
That he needs more.
Deserves more.
Ava: How’s that goodnight kiss coming along?
It takes him a few minutes to respond.
Connor: I’ll be there in five.
I open my blinds and lift the window. And I wait. And wait. And wait. Five minutes turns to ten, and I check my phone. Nothing. I wait some more, the frigid cold air forming goosebumps along my arms as I lean halfway out, searching for him.