Chapter 35
Connor
I watched her look around the busy breakfast café, searching, and I stood.
Her eyes went right to me and she headed in my direction, looking ready for work in her cardigan, black pants, ponytail, and glasses.
God, she’s so pretty, I thought, thinking it was insane how much I’d missed her when it’d been only a week.
It felt like a fucking lifetime.
I swear to God I’d squeaked like a damned chipmunk when she texted me last night, making me come to a complete stop as I was about to walk into my building after the game.
Duffy: Can I call you?
I believe I looked up at the dark sky and muttered out loud, “Thank you, God.”
I texted back as quickly as anyone had ever texted in the history of the world: Of course
I’d seen the Erin Andrews footage after the game—multiple times—and I had no idea what to make of it. The running-at-lightning-speed-to-get-to-me was mind-bogglingly sweet holy shit, and the fact that she dropped the word “forgiveness” had my hopes way the fuck up.
And then Tony showed up, acting…well, like he was under the influence of some pretty good edibles or something, so I had no idea what any of it meant.
I knew only that contact with her was better than no contact with her.
I’d just been stepping into my apartment when the phone rang.
“Duffy,” I’d answered, so fucking happy she was calling. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she said, and I’d hated the weirdness in her voice. “Um, good game.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I said, shaking my head as I shut the door behind me. “We played like garbage, but we got it done.”
“True,” she said. “How’s your head?”
“Feels like shit but I’ll live,” I said, heading straight for the ibuprofen in my medicine cabinet. “So…what’s up?”
The silence felt like it lasted an eternity as I gripped the medicine bottle, a pathetic chump desperately waiting for her to say she’d forgiven me.
But instead, she cleared her throat, which was something she did when she was nervous, which made me nervous.
“So I don’t really know how to do this, how to ask a favor to someone I’m not really even friends with, so I’m just going to power through,” she said tightly.
The words “not really even friends with” pounded painfully in my already aching head.
“I need a favor, Connor, and I feel like maybe you owe me one.”
“Anything,” I heard myself say, realizing that I meant it. I’d do anything she asked. “Tell me what you need and it’s yours.”
She cleared her throat yet again. “It’s probably just my dad overreacting, but he’s convinced that I’m going to go back to being the most hated woman in Minneapolis if the public thinks I broke up with you and then the team loses a game. He says there are rumbles of me being a jinx.”
“Okay,” I said, not wanting to inadvertently say anything that might piss her off, because I liked where her words were heading.
“So I’m wondering if you’d be okay with us, um, doing the whole let-the-public-make-their-assumptions thing a little longer.”
“Wait.” Wait fucking wait. “What?”
“I mean, I don’t know if it has to be full-on fake dating like before,” she clarified. “But if we can maybe be seen together in the next few days?”
“I—”
“And I know it probably seems hypocritical, but I—”
“No,” I said, not interested in anything that was going to take this shot away. “It doesn’t. It’s fine. It’s good. When and where?”
I’d expected her to throw out a tame coffee meetup, but Duffy wasn’t playing.
“Can you meet me tomorrow morning for breakfast at Saskow’s?”
Saskow’s was the cool breakfast spot in the city, where they sold out of pastries within the first hour and it was always packed, no matter the time. There was zero doubt we would be spotted at Saskow’s.
“What time?”
“Does seven work for you?” she asked.
Anything that works for you works for me, I wanted to say like a total chump, but I restrained myself.
Which was for the best because her next statement was brutal.
“Since this is all for show and we need to look happy, can we just agree not to talk about anything personal?” she asked. “Like, let’s just grab a breakfast sandwich, talk about sports or TV, and go our separate ways until next week.”
I said yes, but I now regretted it as she sat down across from me because all I wanted to do was drag her chair around to my side of the table and beg her to give me another chance.
“Hey,” she said with a smile, one that would work for strangers but I could see wasn’t reaching her eyes.
“Hey,” I replied, my chest tightening.
Because there was something about being so close to the only person I wanted and knowing she didn’t want to be there that felt too fucking terrible for words.
She picked up the menu in front of her and started looking at it, that polite and fake-as-hell smile still on her mouth. “I’m starving, so everything sounds good.”
“Yeah,” I said, disappointment settling into my gut as I realized this fucking false bullshit wasn’t going to change a thing between us. “You’ll love the pancakes here.”
Her eyes shot to mine, her eyebrows furrowing slightly as if she were irritated that I’d dared to acknowledge that I knew she loved pancakes.
“What, I can’t suggest a menu item?” I asked, feeling fucking punchy all of a sudden.
“Of course you can,” she said, her eyes narrowing even more as she looked at me like she wasn’t sure what I was up to. “Thank you.”
“By the way, you look really pretty today,” I said, leaning forward and lowering my voice. “No one has a face like you, Duff. It’s soft and gorgeous, but it’s also stubborn and sharp and fucking interesting as shit. I could stare at you for hours and never get bored.”
Her mouth dropped open. She blinked fast and closed her eyes briefly before opening them again and squinting at me. “What the hell are you doing?”
I shrugged. “Just stating a fact, I guess.”
“No, you’re not, you’re being obnoxious.”
That actually made me smile a little, which was surprising when I felt ornery as fuck. “How is me telling you how much I like your face obnoxious?”
“You’re only saying it because I told you not to.”
“Um, no, you’re wrong, and also when did you tell me not to call you pretty?”
“You know what I mean,” she snapped. “You’re going to ruin everything, so stop it.”
“How am I going to ruin everything exactly?” I asked, feeling marginally better even though she was scowling at me. I couldn’t stand the politeness and stoicism—at least she was showing some sort of emotion with me now.
“Because now I probably look like an angry psycho instead of a besotted girlfriend.”
“Then smile,” I said, knowing it would irritate her.
She sighed and dropped her menu. Clasped her hands together on the table and reset her fake smile.
“Attagirl,” I said, chuckling in spite of everything because I knew her head was exploding.
“I have no idea how I’m going to make it through a meal with you if this is how it’s going to be,” she said through gritted teeth, but still smiling. “I envisioned you politely granting me this favor because, y’know, you were an asshole so it’s the right thing to do. I never imagined you—”
“I can’t help it,” I confessed, leaning forward across the table and lowering my voice. “I thought I’d be able to go along with this, but I can’t. I want to for you, Duff, but I fucking can’t.”
“Then I’m only getting coffee. But tell me—why can’t you?” she asked, and for the first time since she walked in, she looked sad. Her eyes swept over my face before she quietly added, “Why can’t you just be nice and give me this one tiny thing?”
“Because it sucks too much, okay?” I said, shaking my head.
“I want the real thing with you, not some fake show. I thought if I tried, this little pretend date would at least be a crumb I could enjoy, but it’s not.
It’s just a reminder of how great the real thing was and how much I fucking hate crumbs. ”
“Well, I’m sorry,” she said tightly. “But you ruined the real thing and crumbs are all that’s left.”
“Can we stop saying ‘crumbs’? I hate this analogy.”
“You started it,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “You’re the one who keeps saying it.”
“I know,” I said, hearing what a pouty dick I sounded like. “I hate that, too.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, but her breath was shaky as she sighed. “But we were never really more than friends aside from like a week, so—”
“So…what?” I said, suddenly not giving a shit about anything other than saying it.
Saying all of it. “Is that supposed to make this better? Because it doesn’t, Duff.
You being my friend was the best part of it all, the good part that you said you wanted when we talked about love at the Commons.
I can’t hear ‘Exile’ without remembering how fucking cool you were to karaoke with me in a dive bar.
I can’t watch hockey without remembering what a keyed-up little shit you are when the ref pisses you off, and every morning when I talk to my grandpa, I can’t stop myself from remembering the way you dropped everything to visit him with me, just because I asked you to. ”
It was too much, and I could see from her expression that I was burning this shit to the ground but I couldn’t stop. The words wouldn’t stop coming, even as she blinked fast and watched me like I was coming apart.
“I know it was a jerk move to ask you out as a favor to the team, and I’m sorry for not telling you, but every single thing after that, every moment between us, was fucking perfection, so I can’t apologize for everything else.
It was all real for me. And the zombie hunt was not someone else’s idea—it was one of the best nights of my life, for the record.
I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you or making you feel like you weren’t worthy, but how can I regret the stupid stunt that allowed me to get to know you? ”
She was still watching me like I was nuts, and I realized I was probably ruining the whole scheme.
Shit.
“I’m screwing this up, I know, so if you’ll just lean forward, I’ll smile and drop a very fake kiss on your mouth, just to offset my tirade, okay?”
“What?” she asked, clearly disoriented and rightfully so because I was making zero sense.
“Bring it in, I’ll give the people the photo op and then leave so you won’t have to make it through the meal with me.” I leaned forward, my elbows on the table, and let my fingers slide over the curve of her jaw, feeling a deep sense of sadness and regret.
Fuck me, I love this girl, I thought as she said nothing, as her brown eyes gave no hint of what was going on in her head.
I didn’t have to fake anything as my fingertips caressed her skin and my mouth found its way to hers. I was drowning in a want so consuming it felt almost suffocating, like I was going to lose my ever-loving shit if I couldn’t find a way out of this mess and back to her.
I kissed her and felt her gasp against my lips, like she hadn’t expected me to follow through. Maybe she’d thought it was going to be like the kiss cam, some funny little joke, but this wasn’t a game to me, not when this could be the last time I’d kiss her.
I wanted so badly to linger, to tease her into something more, but I wasn’t going to deliver unwanted affection.
I performed, giving a chaste, picture-perfect kiss, and then I pulled back.
I smiled like a besotted boyfriend while still holding her cheek, even though it felt like the hardest thing in the world to do.
“I’m going to take off now,” I said through a broken smile, playing the part as she watched me in confusion. “I know you’re mad that I ruined this and I’m sorry about that, but it’s impossible for me to be sorry about us.”
I killed the space between us and brought my mouth to her ear. “I do love you, Duff, even if that pisses you off.”