Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
“Shut up.”
“I mean it.” He presses a kiss to my neck, and my mind flashes back to the last time we were together.
Lying on my bed. His mouth. His bare skin against mine.
“Stop it.” I push him away, because I can’t think when he’s touching me. I can’t breathe. “You tossed me aside and it was so easy for you. It’s not just that you blew me off and broke up with me. It’s what you chose to do instead of just talking to me. You’d rather lose me than tell the truth.” My eyes start stinging. “You made me feel like shit, Conor.”
“I know, babe. Fuck,” he bites out, messing up his hair as he scrubs his hands through it.
I suddenly realize others have stopped to watch the drama unfolding, and I fight the urge to sprint under a table.
“I didn’t give him the money, Taylor.”
“What?”
“I was halfway to Boston and I couldn’t get your face out of my head. So I turned around. Couldn’t go through with it knowing what I was doing to us.” His voice cracks. “Because the worst thing about all of this, the worst thing I could have possibly done, was lose your respect. Nothing else matters if you hate me.”
“If that were actually true—”
“Damn it, T, I’m trying to say I’m in love with you.”
And before I can blink, he kisses me, all his regret and conviction distilled into the warm, engulfing sensation of our lips meeting. In his arms, I feel steady again, finally upright after being thrown askew. Because when we aren’t together, the world feels misaligned. Conor gives me balance, sets the ground flat again.
When our lips part, he cups my face with one hand, dragging his thumb across my cheek. “I mean it—I’m stupidly in love with you. I should have said it sooner. I’d blame repeated head trauma, but I was just an idiot. I’m sorry.”
“I’m still mad at you,” I tell him honestly, though with a little less ferocity.
“I know.” He smiles. A bit sad. Still sweet. “I’m prepared to do some pretty intense groveling.”
I catch movement from the corner of my eye and turn to see Charlotte making a beeline for us with scowling church lady eyes.
“Well, you’ve caused a scene and everyone is looking at us,” I say. “So you can start earning my forgiveness if you get us the hell out of here.”
Conor surveys the dance floor, his silver eyes sweeping over our audience of Kappas and their dates and the scandalized blue-blooded alumni glowering in disapproval. Then he bestows his familiar impish grin onto the crowd.
“Show’s over, folks,” he announces. “Goodnight.”
He entwines his fingers with mine and together we make our escape.
I’ve always hated parties anyway.
34
Conor
Taylor invites me into her apartment, and we take turns not knowing where to stand or how to sit. She tries the couch first, but she has too much to say and it doesn’t all quite come out in the order she wants to say it until she gets some traction under her feet and starts circling the room. So I take the couch next, except my muscles are still burning off the adrenaline and the lactic acid is building up. So I paste myself into a corner trying to work out if she can love me back or if I’ve already lost her for good.
“I spent all this time trying to understand why you were being like this,” she’s saying, “and without any input from you I was left with all these worst-case scenarios.”
I hang my head. “I get it.”
“Like I was a bet. Or you finally saw me naked and were like, yeah, no. Or some sick part of you just liked knowing you could hurt me.”
“I’d never—”
“And so you have to understand that even though it’s all cleared up now, I’ve already lived these scenarios in my mind,” Taylor says quietly. “They didn’t happen, but they also did, you know? In my heart, you dumped me this week because I wouldn’t fuck you, because your boys put you up to it, because you met someone else. I put myself through the wringer because you were too chickenshit to communicate with me.”
“I know,” I say, hands in my pockets, staring at the floor.
I realize now that the damage is done, that no matter the grand gestures and sincere apologies, sometimes you hurt people too much and push them too far. There’s a limit to what you can ask someone to endure for your bullshit.
And I’m terrified Taylor has reached her limit with me.
“You have to give me more than that, Con. I believe you’re sorry, but I have to know I’m not signing myself up to get run over again.”
I clear my throat to rid it of the gravel lodged there. “I didn’t want you to know me this way. I came to Briar to be better, and for a while I thought I’d escaped my past.” I swallow. “I did such a good job convincing myself I’d made a clean getaway that I stopped looking over my shoulder. Hell, I even started to believe I was a different person. Somewhere along the way I think I forgot why I kept people at a distance. And then you happened. I mean, Taylor, I never saw you coming. It was shit timing for us, but I can’t regret trying.”