17. Connor
CONNOR
Something about Delaney takes every rational thought in my head and puts them through the shredder, leaving me with incoherent ramblings and caveman tendencies. Case in point, telling her I’d only fuck her if we were in love.
Who in their right mind says that to their fake girlfriend?
Another important consideration: who in their right mind has a fake girlfriend?
The thought of her hooking up with any of her previous PR relationships made me see red. Just the possibility of someone taking advantage of a situation like that… God, it just makes me sick.
I meant it when I said that it would be a privilege to be with her.
But Delaney isn’t ready for that conversation yet, and the reality is, she probably never will be.
Not with all the years between us. Sure, she’ll flirt a little, get into some back and forth with me, but I can’t imagine a world where she’d cross that line.
And after years of being played and manipulated, the last thing she needs is me trying to turn this fake dating thing into something more.
I have to get my mind right. I owe it to her to uphold my end of the deal without letting my feelings get in the way and complicate things.
As we file back onto the bus after our long day at the theme park, I vow to go for a run when we get back to the lodge, followed by an ice-cold shower.
Burn off some energy, freeze out the memory of her lips on mine that’s been haunting me.
That should be enough to stuff any hope of more back into the neat little box I’ve been carrying around for a decade.
An elbow hits me with a sharp jab. “Hey, Earth to Connor. Mrs. Crane just asked you a question.”
“Sorry, lost in thought,” I mumble to Delaney before turning my attention to Mrs. Crane. “What’d you need, ma’am?”
She smiles at my charm, like always. “I was asking if you could whip us up a late-night snack when we get back to the cabin. Maybe a round of bedtime waffles? I saw a griddle in the pantry.”
There goes my run.
“And maybe Delaney can help you?”
And there goes my sanity.
I smile even wider. “Sure thing, Mrs. Crane.”
She leans toward our row of seats as the bus roars to life. “I really hate to admit this, but you two do make quite the couple. Maybe you can convince this one to stick around a little longer.” She pats Delaney’s arm with an affection I’ve never seen before. “I’ve grown rather fond of her.”
With that, she returns to her seat a few rows up and leaves us in a moment of stunned silence.
“Did she just admit to liking me?” Delaney asks with a bewildered laugh.
“Damn, Delaney, I think you’ve won her over.” I pause. Crane’s comment lit a spark in that little kindling of dangerous hope. I know I’m tiptoeing down a slippery slope, but I can’t stop myself.
“Would you ever consider it? Staying?”
All hope is lost with just one look. Her eyes wide, mouth open, and my heart just a little bit more broken. “Connor. What the hell would I do in Ridgecrest?’
I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe you finish out the school year, take a step back from the spotlight, reset.”
Her brows pinch together, like my words are so absurd that she can hardly understand them.
“Stepping away now would be the death knell for my career, especially since everything’s been so rocky all year.
I don’t need to quietly reset, I need to keep making headlines.
” She shimmies her phone out of her pocket.
“Speaking of which, we need to send Matty some pictures to post.”
Delaney angles her body towards her outstretched hand, leaning into me.
It’s pure torture.
I drape an arm across her chest and her free hand loops around my wrist. And because I’m a masochist, I plant a kiss on the top of her head.
Really, I’m the one breaking my own heart at this point.
Abruptly, she scoots back into her seat and flips the phone around to analyze the picture on the screen. “Oooo, it’s cute. Everyone will love this one. Did you take any good aesthetic pics of the park?”
I chuckle, “Lanie, no. I took exactly three pictures all day, and they were all of a weird bug bite on my leg that I sent to my doctor friend to make sure it wasn’t infected.”
“Eww, okay, okay, got it. I’ll go ask the girls if I can steal some of their pictures.
” She hops into the aisle and I’m struck by how light and happy she is.
Delaney would deny it to her last breath, but she really is a natural with the kids.
She’s been glowing the whole trip. She’s kind, yet firm with the students, and playful enough to have earned their trust. It’s a far cry from world tours, but I could see her as a young, cool Mrs. Crane, directing the choir and planning trips like this.
The high pitched peal of laughter breaks through my thoughts and I turn to see Delaney standing in the aisle at the back of the bus.
The kids have roped her into what looks like a game of charades and she’s either a chimney sweep or a hang glider.
The look of unadulterated joy is almost too much.
She has to feel it; she has to sense that staying in Ridgecrest even for just a few extra months would give her more purpose than the crazy hamster wheel of fame she’s stuck on.
We make eye contact and I melt under her warm gaze. I smile back, her joy infectious. She turns back to the kids, her mannerisms now looking more animalistic.
What the hell is she supposed to be?
Leaning out into the aisle, I take a video. It’s grainy and dimly lit; nothing worth sending to Matty to post.
I think I’ll keep it forever.
The jovial mood Delaney created on the bus spilled out into the chalet for late-night waffles and even Mrs. Crane was cracking a smile as everyone danced and laughed around the kitchen.
Our bus driver, usually so quiet, held court at the head of the long dining table and had the students working through goofy riddles while they waited for their waffles.
Again, I was hit with longing. This could happen every year; Delaney could stay and take over the choir, and we could do this forever.
I let myself have a moment to try that forever on: My Saturday morning ritual of coffee on the deck, but with her at my side. Driving together to work and stopping for treats after a particularly hard day. Evening runs in the orchard, and I’d always let her beat me home.
The bubble pops at that pesky word, home. Because, for better or for worse, I’ll always be tied to Ridgecrest in a way that Delaney never has been.
I can’t leave, and, as happy as she might be goofing off with the kids, I know she won’t stay.
And those two things don’t add up to forever.
That realization pulls me into a sour mood and I can feel myself scowling as I mass-produce waffles for the students. Pretty sure I saw Abby jump when I handed over her plate a little too forcefully.
Once we washed the last of the dishes, it’s pushing midnight and my melancholy mood has turned into a living thing I can’t seem to rein in. Delaney has made expert work of sidestepping its clutches all night but the look in her eyes tells me she’s about to fight it head-on.
“Connor, can you put these dishes up? I can’t reach that shelf.”
I take the stack of plates from Delaney wordlessly.
I huff and puff more than necessary to get the final dish back in its place.
Turning quickly to take my sorry ass up to the sleeping loft, and hopefully evade the questions I know Delaney has locked and loaded, I almost make it before she takes aim and fires.
She crosses her arms and leans back against the kitchen island. “Ready to talk about it?”
I quirk an eyebrow at her, a silent question.
She doesn’t back down. “Don’t make that face at me. You’ve been stomping around all evening. Not living up to your favorite teacher status.”
That brings a hint of a smile to my lips. “The kids said I’m their favorite?”
Delaney laughs and I want to remember that breezy sound forever. “Don’t try to change the subject, Mr. Majors. Tell me what’s wrong.”
I let out a long sigh.
Tell her that I’ve loved her since we were kids and fake dating her is killing me when I see a whole future she’d never entertain?
No, no, I’m not telling her that.
“Delaney, I’m just worn out. Long day.” I attempt to head upstairs again, but she steps into my path.
Looking up at me with big doe eyes, Delaney says, “Huh, that’s funny. I would’ve thought you had better stamina than that.” Her eyes flash, all innocence blinking away. The little smirk that plays on her full lips tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing.
I close my eyes with a silent prayer. “Don’t question my stamina.” I manage to get out through gritted teeth.
My eyes pop open when a finger pokes me in the chest. “I’m questioning it until proven otherwise.” There’s mischief in her voice and a hint of something that sounds real close to desire.
In one motion, I grab her hand from my chest and pin it behind her back, pulling her in close to me. “Baby, you just tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll prove whatever you want.”
We’re so close I can feel her chest rising and falling against mine, so close she can definitely feel my proof hardening against her. The smallest of movements would eat up the remaining space between us and then her lips would be on mine again.
“Connor,” Delaney whispers, snaking her free hand lightly up my chest and curling it around the back of my neck.
I study her face. In this moment, it looks more like the face that has haunted my dreams since we were teenagers and less like the one on every tabloid cover.
Free of makeup, her features look delicate and inviting.
I sweep my thumb over her cheek and weave my hand into her hair. God, she’s beautiful.
I lean in, wound up so tight I’m about to snap. Lips hovering by her ear, I manage to get out, “Lanie, I’ve got about three seconds of self control left. You either need to walk away or let me kiss you again.”
Her grip on my neck tightens and for a split second, I’m flooded with hope. She’s gonna stay.
But then her gaze drops to her feet and she pulls away. “I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”
All hope is replaced by the familiar pit in my stomach that’s brought on by watching her leave. Again.