Chapter 18 - Connor
Connor
At my next critique workshop, Professor Contreras calls on Margot to present. Unlike me, she struts to the podium, confident in herself and her work. I sit back and enjoy the show along with everyone else, and I discover what sort of art Margot’s muse provokes.
The girl I met on Halloween night isn’t a subject in any of the photos Margot presents, but Pilar’s influence permeates the tone of Margot’s small collection.
Gothic, yet playful, and with a whimsical twist of irony.
I study the images and imagine Margot and her crush traipsing around darkened pockets of sunny San Diego, finding beauty under every shadow.
I tell Margot good job when she sits back down, and she asks if I’m down to hit the food court after class. I take the invitation as an opportunity to come clean about what happened last weekend, as if confessing to Margot will help prepare me to confess to Thalia.
On our way to the Student Union, I’m too cowardly to dive right in, so I ask Margot how her crush is going instead.
“Oh, ya know,” she sighs. “She and her girlfriend are fighting, and I’m trying not to be happy about it. And I’m not happy about it, for the record.”
“Of course not.”
“‘Cause that would make me an unsupportive friend.”
“Right.”
“And I’m a very supportive friend. Ask anyone. You know. You know I’m supportive, right?”
“You’re very supportive.”
She nods, clomping along beside me in her platform Doc Martens and helping me apologize to everyone who bumps into us.
We reach the Student Union, and I hold the door open.
On her way in, Margot gives me a funny smile.
“But, I mean…if one of my friends is in a relationship that’s clearly run its course, then wouldn’t the supportive thing be to… ya know…”
“Make out with them?”
“No!” She swats my shoulder as we carry on toward the basement food court. “Oh my gosh, I’m not a homewrecker. I can’t do that. Can I? No, I can’t. Unless…” She grips my arm and leans in close, “Connor, is this the year I finally become a villain?”
“You’re not a villain. You’re just human.”
“Well, all villains are human.”
We veer left at the base of the stairs and join a line for ramen. There are four people ahead of us when Margot knocks her shoulder against my arm and asks about my crush.
“Huh?” I ask, biding time.
“Come on.” She bares her knowing eyes into my head like she’s been reading my inner thoughts this whole time. Thoughts like what’s Dane doing right now? and how many hours until I can see Dane again? “I may have been a little high on Halloween, but I wasn’t blind.”
I look ahead, wishing this line would move quicker.
“Did anything happen between you two?” she asks.
“Other than sleeping together?”
She curses under her breath, not saying anything else until the line moves, and now there are only three people ahead of us.
“How was it?” She blurts out. “Wait, no. That’s not what I’m supposed to ask. Um, hold on…” She’s quiet for a few purposeful moments. “Does Thalia know?”
That’s the question I expected. “Not yet.”
“You’re going to tell her, right?”
“Of course. I just…”
“Hey.” Margot touches my arm, coaxing me to meet her eye. “This is me being a supportive friend. You have to tell her.”
“I know. I just need to find a way to leave Dane out of it. I’m the villain. Not him.”
She nods, lips folding. “Was it just sex, or…?”
“No, I, uh…I think I love him.” Think is a cop-out.
I know I love him. I felt it in Margot’s living room, in the diner, in his bed, and in every moment thereafter.
I feel it whenever we’re in the same room, like there are magnets in my chest pulling me toward him.
But it’s a terrifying, shameful love, and Dane deserves so much better than that.
“Is he the first guy you’ve ever…?”
“Yeah.” I glance around the food court, noticing the same sorts of men who would typically catch my eye.
It never felt like attraction when I’d catch myself staring at a dude’s body, though.
Sure, there was some amount of intrigue, but it was mostly appreciation for their physiques and what they likely had to do to maintain them.
I played sports all my life, but I’ve never had a six-pack or pelvic lines.
That shit takes effort. Of course I’m going to take notice.
It never occurred to me that I was attracted to any of the guys whose bodies I’ve appreciated. Just as it didn’t occur to me that I was attracted to Dane on that beach the day we met.
“Do you still love Thalia?” Margot asks.
The line shifts again, only one person ahead of us now, and I don’t even know what I’m going to order.
“I, um…” Staring at the panel-board menu, all I see is a vision of Thalia’s lovely face contorted in scorn when I eventually tell her what I’ve done, and how I feel. “No. But that doesn’t make it any better. I shoulda ended things a while back, but I moved here instead, and now…”
Margot’s hand touches my arm. “If you ever need a place to crash, I got you, okay?”
“Thanks, but I can’t leave Dane in that house alone.”
“He’s a big boy, Connor. He can leave too. Whenever he wants.”
But it’s hard to leave something when it’s all you’ve ever known. As it turns out, it can be even harder to leave a bad situation than to leave a good one.
My phone buzzes just as the cashier is calling out for the next customer. Thinking it’s a text from Dane, I motion for Margot to order ahead of me so I can check my messages.
But it’s not from Dane. It’s from my buddy, Tommy, the only other person I know who moved out of Sacramento to stay with his significant other. The moment before tapping on the notification, I wonder if this text is to tell me his and Rowan’s relationship has gone as downhill as mine and Thalia’s.
Tommy:
Hey man. Random question but…is this you?
A second text appears below the first, and it’s a link to a TikTok post that won’t open on my phone unless I download the app.
“You’re up.” Margot tugs on my shirt sleeve, averting my attention to the cashier, and I blurt out the first order that comes to mind before handing over my debit card.
“Do you have TikTok?” I ask Margot.
“Uh, duh.”
“Can I forward you a link?” As soon as my debit card is back in my wallet, and we’ve sidestepped to the pick-up counter, I text Margot the link.
Eyes on her phone, Margot’s expression shifts from neutral to confusion to surprise, and finally, her jaw drops.
“What is it?” Impatient, I stick my side to Margot’s and watch her screen.
Time stops, but the video doesn’t. It plays on like a cruel taunt. A ghost from my very near past showing up in digital form to deliver me my trial.
“Twenty-thousand likes in four days?” Margot mumbles. “Holy shit, Connor. You’re viral.”
Is this payback from the universe for my own voyeurism?
Even the photos I post to Instagram get little more than a few hundred views, a few dozen likes, and a handful of comments.
And it’s only ever photos. Never minutes-long videos with lighting filters, music underlays, and conjecturing captions that give away my subjects’ exact fucking location.
Gay dudes feeling the vibe at Breaker's Diner in San Diego and end up eating more face than food! That’s one way to spend Halloween.
My stomach rebels at the sight of myself doing things I never should have done in public—in a fucking diner.
My hip pressed to Dane’s, my arms around him, and my tongue in his mouth.
Slow, amorous, open-mouthed kisses with our feelings and intentions right there on our sleeves and captured by whoever the fuck took this video.
Zoomed-in, color-corrected, and leaving no space for doubt that the dashing brunette is Dane and the fucking loser he’s making out with is me.
“I’m gonna throw up.” I stagger away, aiming for the restrooms but settling for a wall to lean on. With shaky hands, I text Tommy back.
Me:
That is NOT me
“Connor.” Margot’s beside me again, spouting lies like they’ll make everything better. “Not everyone’s on TikTok. You can barely even tell it’s you. I’m sure no one important will see it, and even if they do, they’ll scroll right past it like everything else.”
I call Dane without knowing what I’ll even say, but the line rings and rings with no pick up. Shit, he has soccer practice, then an early evening class. I text him instead.
Me:
I need to talk to you asap
While sending Dane the TikTok link, Margot says, “On the bright side, everyone in the comments is really rooting for you guys.”
Thankfully, Margot doesn’t mind that I’m suddenly too sick to eat.
I hug her goodbye and leave my campus to find Dane at his while I still know where he’s supposed to be.
His team is running its typical practice routine on the same field where they host their home matches.
I lurk on the bleachers, watching the field with only my eyes this time.
There are others in the stands, taking advantage of the athletic ambience to catch up on textbook readings and host mini study groups. But I sit alone, anxious and ill and tracking Dane’s movements like he’ll disappear if I blink.
He trips when he spots me, waving despite his coach’s chiding. Just his acknowledgment is enough to calm me some, but not nearly enough.
Practice ends with a final huddle, and I head down to meet Dane at field level, intercepting him on his way to the locker room.
“Hey, stalker,” he teases with a big grin. He rakes his fingers through his sweat-greased hair and slaps my palm like we’re nothing but good buddies. A few of his actual buddies from the team say hey to me on their way past, and I do my best impression of someone who isn’t spiraling.
“Can we talk?”
“Yeah, let me shower up and—”
“I need to talk to you now. Privately.”
He blinks, smile wilting. “Okay.”
Under the bleachers is where I stand and watch Dane watch the video. Even under a canopy of shade and cobwebs, I feel exposed, shivering not from the chill in the air but from the anxiety pulsing through my veins.