3. Emma
Three
Emma
This was going fucking terribly. I should have known better than to ever think a guy like Connor Easton would want to have anything to do with me. Despite thinking this was a pity date to begin with, I wanted to believe that things could be different and he would prove me wrong about him. At this point I just wanted to finish my soggy salad and go home.
“I’m trying here, Emma.”
“Are you?” I snapped.
“Believe it or not, yes, I am.”
“Then do better.”
I was being a bitch, but I don’t care. Punching someone was one thing, but asking me on a date and then admitting this is not something he does unless there is sex involved is where I draw the damn line. He could go fuck someone else for all I care, but it will not be me. This whole date was a joke. He just wanted to have sex. He could have mentioned that instead of asking me out. Hell, that’s what I was going to do. He didn’t have to put up a front.
“Don’t do that,” he sighed.
“Do what?”
“Think that I don’t want to be here.”
“You don’t.”
“Don’t speak for me, Little Fighter. If I say something, I mean it. I use my words wisely.”
“Yeah, got it. You have that whole mysterious thing going for you.”
“Want to know why I’m this way?” He raised his eyebrow.
“Sure.” I crossed my arms.
“Not here.”
“What?”
“Walk with me.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Want me to open up? Let’s go. The food sucks anyway.”
He had a point there. I didn’t really look at the reviews before picking this place. Throwing my napkin down, Connor flagged down the waitress and took care of paying before we stepped into the fading night. He didn’t say anything before he took off walking, putting his hands into his pockets and refusing to look at me as I followed him like a lost puppy. His boots clanking on the pavement, the sound of the still night, and the smell of summer approaching in the air gave me a sense of calm, but like all things Connor Easton, he was here to remind me why I was upset to begin with.
“I don’t know why I asked you on a date,” he whispered.
“That makes two of us.”
“Loving someone gives them the power to hurt you.”
“Yeah, but if you’ve never dated anyone, then how could anyone even hurt you?” I pointed out.
“You know, even my brothers think I’ve never had a girlfriend,” he mumbled.
“And you have?”
“This is fucking embarrassing.”
“What is?” I cocked my head.
He stopped walking, looking around until he pointed to a nearby park. Grabbing my hand, he led me across the street and to a bench. Releasing my hand, he let out a sigh mixed with a sad laugh.
“There’s a reason why I never date.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“I had a girlfriend,” he whispered. “For almost ten years.”
“Tell me about her.” I said gently.
“It’s hard to look back on now. I’ve been running for so long.”
“It clearly hurt you.”
“It fucked me up, Emma,” he snapped.
I ignored his tone, coming to know that Connor wasn’t a gentle person. Crossing my legs in front of me, I took a calming breath, watching the children across the way play on the jungle gym and scream. Every time I see a kid being a kid, it stings just a little more. Knowing I never had that and never would. A sad smile crossed my face, thinking about the life I could have had if I didn’t have a mom that picked drugs over me and a father that left in the middle of the night when he decided being a father wasn’t for him.
“In school, did you ever do that penpal thing?” he asked, breaking the silence.
Turning to face him, I scanned his face, the way his eyes were glazed over slightly, his hair messy from running his hands through it. His shirt tight against his biceps makes me wonder how fast he could throw me around and make me his. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. “Um, yeah. Didn’t last long, really.”
“I can’t say the same.” He shook his head.
“Did you have one for a while?” I wondered.
“Something like that.”
“Connor, please, what happened?”
“In 5th grade, we all got assigned a penpal. Me being me, I thought it was stupid. But it was part of our grade, and despite the way I act, I did care about them, to the point that I refused to fail. That isn’t me. So I took it seriously. I wrote the letter. Two weeks later, one came back. Her name was Clair, the same age as me. She seemed nice. We ended up writing back and forth. Everyone else kind of got bored of it, and since the assignment was over, we didn’t have to write back anymore. We decided we still wanted to talk, so we exchanged addresses and kept going.”
“For how long?” I asked.
“I’m getting there,” he assured me. “I didn’t want anyone to know, so I’d wait for the mail to be delivered every day and run out to get it. If there was a letter from her, I’d hide it, go to my room, read it, and respond. Then sneak it out to the mailbox the next day. This went on until we were sixteen. Only, we had both finally gotten a cellphone and exchanged numbers. That’s… when it changed. We were able to send pictures back and forth. Call each other. All the things you do as a teen. And that’s when I had all those teenage hormones. Clair was beautiful. Took my breath away, even at that age.”
“Did she know?” I interrupted.
“We both admitted we had a crush on each other. That’s when things got even more serious. We called each other boyfriend and girlfriend, but we never told anyone. It’s why my brothers thought I never had one. At 18, we were still dating, or whatever you would call our secret relationship. She brought up us being able to meet now that we’re adults, and I agreed. But things kept getting in the way, and we couldn’t afford to travel.”
“Wait, how old were you when you started the penpal thing?”
“Ten, so we were talking for eight years. Anyway, I got a job and started saving. When I was 20, we both were finally in a place where we could meet each other. We picked a date, a place, everything. I showed up. She didn’t.”
“She just ghosted you? After ten years of talking?”
“Not exactly.” Connor looked away, closing his eyes, and ran his fingers through his hair again.
“Connor?”
“She killed herself the night before we were supposed to meet. She left a note on the spot.”
I gasped, jerking my head to look at him, but he refused to look at me. Here I was judging him, and he went through that. Probably all alone, too. No one even knew about their relationship.
“What did it say?”
“I never read it.”
“You don’t want to know what she said?”
“No, Emma. I didn’t, and I still don’t. I should have known. Ten fucking years. I should have been there. I should have seen the signs. I could have saved her, and I didn’t. I could have been the person to care for her, but I didn’t notice because I was all about myself and too self-absorbed to notice.” He balled his fists as he glared at me.
“That’s… why you were so mad you didn’t notice I was diabetic.” I whispered.
“We worked together for weeks . I should have seen the Dexcom and made sure you were eating.”
“Connor, I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”
“It isn’t an excuse. I need to pay more attention.”
“I’m right here.” I grabbed his hand. “I forgot to eat lunch because I was too busy watching you work.”
“What?”
“I mean…have you seen yourself? You’re Connor fucking Easton.”
“Does that mean something?” he laughed.
“It has since you punched that smug bastard in the face for me.”
“I swear I’m not trying to be an ass to you. I’m just fucked up.”
“We all are.” I shrugged with a small smile.
“I ruined this date.”
“You redeemed yourself.”
“Ah, the pity.” He rolled his eyes.
“I thought this was a pity date.” I blushed.
“Emma.”
“What else was I supposed to think?”
“That you’re the most beautiful woman I had ever met, and I didn’t know how to ask you out,” he smirked.
I’ve stopped breathing. I’m going to die. Right here in the middle of the park. Death by words.
“You okay?” Connor nudged me.
“Yes,” I exhaled slowly.
“I’ll compliment you all day if that’s your reaction.”
“That means you’ll have to use your words.” I laughed.
Leaning in, he whispered, “I can be good with my words sometimes.”
Clenching my thighs together, I took a shaky breath. His breath hit my neck. Goosebumps formed throughout my body as a shiver went down my spine.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
Of course, since I had no brain cells left, I did so without question. His eyes looked heavy as he looked at me, more so at my lips. Swallowing, I leaned closer. “Let me hear them then.”
His thumb pushed my lip down, sliding down my chin until he placed his hand softly on the side of my neck. “I have a better idea.”
His lips meet mine, slow at first and then faster, greedier. Like he was hungry for something, and that something was luckily me. Finally my brain decided to catch up. Grabbing his side, I held onto his shirt, a small moan falling out for him to swallow in our kiss. He shifted his hand from my neck to the back of my head, tangling his fingers through my hair until he pulled roughly, causing me to yelp.
A loud noise pierced the air, a noise I really didn’t want to hear right now. Ripping away from Connor, I tried to catch my breath and grab my phone at the same time, but my hand was a little shaky, and I almost dropped it. Connor reached for it, looking down and seeing that it was my Dexcom app telling me that my blood sugar was too low. I didn’t eat my salad before we decided to leave the restaurant, and the last thing I ate was the salad I had for lunch when I almost passed out the first time today. How the fuck is this happening to me twice in one day when I had gone months without having an issue and kept everything in check?
Lifting my shirt, I tried to pause my insulin pump, but my vision was becoming blurrier by the minute. I was a dumbass.
“Hey, stop, what do you need me to do?” Connor asked softly.
“Can… you pause my pump?”
He knocked my hand out of the way, looking at it with a confused face as he searched. “It’s in the settings. It’ll say, suspend delivery.”
“I got it. It’s okay,” He rubbed my cheek, the concern evident on his face. “You’re really pale. Fuck, you didn’t eat again.”
He started muttering how stupid he was for letting us leave the restaurant without eating, blaming himself again for not noticing sooner that there was something wrong.
“I need something heavy with carbs.” I told him.
“Can you walk?”
“Maybe.”
“Come on, Little Fighter.”
I took Connor’s hand in mine, lifting myself up and taking a step, but my vision went black and I stumbled into his chest. He gripped me harder, making sure I wouldn’t fall, and that was the last thing I remembered.