Page 30 of Our Secret Moments

When we’re alone again, I don’t know what to say so I stick to drying whilst she washes. She keeps glancing over at me, smirking a little before shaking her head as if she’s about to say something before thinking better of it. I’m doing the same thing – stupidly opening my mouth just to close it again when the words don’t come.

“You can relax, you know? I’m not going to ask you any questions,” she says quietly. She passes me the last pot and I dry it off.

“I know,” I reply, drying off my hands and leaning back against the counter as she drains the water from the sink. Once she’s done, she dries off her hands too, studying me, those dark brown eyes figuring me out like a puzzle.

“Then why do you look so tense?” she asks, moving to stand in front of me. My heartbeat instantly picks up and I have no idea why. She looks so much shorter like this even though I’m leaning back on my hands.

“I’m not,” I breathe out, but it sounds and feels like a lie. I’m always a little tense, always wound a little too tight, but that’s just the way I am. I’m only extra anxious now because she’s in front of me, looking up at me like she…

I shake my head at the thought, dropping my gaze to the floor. “Connor,” she presses, her voice sounding slightly desperate. She reaches out, latching her small hand over mine as she steps closer to me. I turn my hand around on the counter, my palm up, knowing it’ll calm me. I don’t even have to say anything before she starts to massage my palm. Her touch is so soft and gentle. Soher. “Not tense, huh?” she asks, moving her thumbs around my palm. I shrug. “Be real with me.”

I sigh, knowing I won’t be able to cower and back away from this like I could try. “I’m just worried I won’t be any good at the whole social media thing like you mentioned earlier. I like seeing other people do it and Wes and Sam are great at it, but I don’t know… Maybe I’m not as good at it as them. It doesn’t feel like me.”

She nods but she doesn’t stop working her fingers over my palm. “I saw that TikTok that was posted – the Love Story one. You were really good, Connie.” My chest pinches at the compliment. “I said I’m going to help you, so I will. Your birthday is next weekend, just relax until then, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

My mouth tugs at the idea.

We.

“Are you suggesting that we’re a team, Catherine?” I tease, catching her hand in mine so I can lock my fingers with hers.

“Something like that,” she whispers.

It feels like time stops when she says that, when she looks up at me and for the first time in a while, I see a sense of wonder in her eyes. A sense of what-if. A slight sense of hope. Maybe it’s nothing and it’s my overly optimistic brain when it comes to her,but I swear I feel the energy between us crackling. And for one of the first times, it doesn’t feel like it’s just me that feels it.

She keeps her eyes locked with mine as I drop our interlocked hands to the side, using my other hand to slip around her waist, pulling her into me. She gasps, her mouth parting desperately. The feel of her beneath my hand is maddening. It’s wholly distracting, and I just want more of it.

“Connor,” she murmurs, a half-plea. The sound goes straight to my dick, my hand flexing in her hip that the only sound that comes out of me is a low hum of approval. “What are we–”

The door swings open as Mrs Redford comes rushing in. Catherine leaps apart from me as if I have the fucking plague. Her eyes fall to the floor as Mrs R walks over to us, her face lit up in child-like happiness as she looks around at the clean back-room.

“You two are lifesavers,” she exclaims. “You really make a good team.”

THIRTEEN

CONNOR/CAT

HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY

CONNOR

Call it twin telepathy,but I knew the second I let Nora choose the theme for our party, it was about to be something stupid.

Nora usually gets the last say in anything that we do together. Most of the time, I don’t give a shit, but this right here, in my parents’ house with two of my friends as we set up for the party is where I draw the line.

Wes is smiling like a loon, pleasantly happy with his costume choice. “You’ve got to lighten up man,” he says to me, walking back into the kitchen after he opened the French doors to the backyard. He fiddles with his tail, sighing as he pushes it behind him. “It’s a party, not a funeral.”

“It might as well be,” I grumble, pulling the packs of beers from the fridge and on to the kitchen island.

Archer turns then. He looks the most ridiculous out of all of us. It’s been an hour since we all changed into our costumes, but Wes and I’s laughter streams out of us as Archer scratches his nose behind the carrot nose he has attached to his face.

“I still don’t know how you talked me into doing this,” he groans.

“Well, the movie wouldn’t be as good without trusty Olaf,” Wes says, patting him on the back as he drifts past him.

Of course, this year’s theme is Disney movies. We had to set up a list so no outfits would be repeated, and Wes begged Archer and I to go as the main characters fromFrozen.

I don’t just mean he asked us nicely with his puppy dog eyes, but I mean this man got on his hands and knees for us to do a group costume in exchange for him doing anything we asked for a week.