Chapter 17
CONNOR
I need your help.
ME
Ask away!
CONNOR
I would say you failed for saying yes without knowing what I need help with, but I’m desperate.
ME
I know you wouldn’t ask for help unless you really needed it. What’s up?
CONNOR
I have to fill out a questionnaire.
ME
I’m not really seeing the issue…
CONNOR
It’s asking me questions about myself and what I look for in a date.
ME
Still not seeing the problem…
CONNOR
I don’t like talking about myself. Also, how am I supposed to know what my best qualities are?
ME
Ah, so you reached out because I’m supposed to help you build your confidence. Or you just want me to tell you how amazing you are?
CONNOR
I didn’t mean it like that.
The three little dots appear and disappear repeatedly. I can picture the frustration on Connor’s face as he tries to figure out how to explain his request, so I decide to put him out of his misery before his face becomes stuck in a permanent frown.
ME
Relax, I’m messing with you.
ME
Be there in ten!
I pull up to Connor’s house. As I put the car in park, my stomach swirls at the realization that I don’t know what Connor’s questionnaire is even for.
Or why the form needs information on the kind of woman he wants to date.
It’s going to kill me if I have to hear him describe qualities I don’t possess. Maybe this wasn’t such a smart idea.
I’m about to grab my phone and text him that something came up to save my heart a world of pain when Connor steps out onto his front porch and waves. He must’ve heard me drive up.
“Bugleweed,” I mutter. There’s no turning back now. I reposition my headband and smooth my hands along my ribbed floral long-sleeved shirt before stepping out of the car and closing the distance between us.
He leaves one hand in his pocket but spreads his other arm wide as I near him.
I wrap my arms around him, accepting his hug.
Only, he doesn’t squeeze me. I pull my head back, and that’s when I realize that he was gesturing for me to come inside, not opening his arms for a welcome hug.
Splendid. Wonderful. Fan-freaking-tastic.
Connor awkwardly pats my back while I hold onto him like a barnacle.
Just call me a stage-six clinger.
I clear my throat and step back, moving inside his house with a speed I didn’t know I possessed while avoiding eye contact. Connor’s footsteps sound behind me, and I hear him shut the front door as I take a seat on his couch next to his open laptop.
My panic dissipates a little when I see the internet search he has pulled up: How to make myself sound more confident than I feel.
If someone who looks like a man sculpted to perfection by none other than Michelangelo himself can struggle with confidence, then it makes me feel less alone with my inner battles.
Connor takes the seat beside me, grabs his laptop, and exits out of the tab. The next web page pops up. From the brief glance I’m able to get, it appears to be whatever he wants help filling out.
The swirling sensation in my stomach returns. “You never did tell me what this questionnaire was for.”
He drops his face into his hands. “It’s embarrassing.”
Can’t be as embarrassing as me thinking he was opening his arms to hug me when he was only gesturing for me to go inside.
“Try me.”
Connor runs his hands through his hair. My eyes track his movement, appreciating the way his muscles bulge against his cotton shirt. “I’m going to be one of the bachelors in the annual LFD charity auction.”
A laugh bursts out of my lips at the ridiculous thought of Connor on a stage and being bid on for dates. But when I see the grim look on his face, I sober. “Wait, you’re serious?”
“Unfortunately.”
I grab the laptop from him. He attempts to take it back, but I hold a hand out to stop him as I read over the questions.
They don’t seem too outlandish. The questionnaire covers everything from the highest level of schooling he’s completed and what words his loved ones would use to describe him to asking him to share his ideal date and what he looks for in a partner.
“So, you need me to help you answer these so you can get the best date there.” I pick at the yellow polish on my nails, trying to look nonchalant. “Anyone specific you have in mind?”
He shakes his head. “I just don’t want to look like an idiot up there, and that’s exactly what will happen if I answer these questions myself.”
I reach out to comfort him but think better of it since he seems to still pull away whenever I touch him. I pin my hand under my thigh, putting it in leg jail. “You’re selling yourself short.”
“No.” His voice is firm. “I think you have too much confidence in me.”
“There’s no such thing. Come on, I’ll show you.” I gesture with my free hand to the laptop, ready for him to shoot a question my way.
“All right.” Connor clears his throat. “Highest level of schooling.”
I tilt my head. “You could put ‘High school graduate. No further schooling was necessary when I found my passion: fighting fires for my community.’”
He glances at me but continues typing. “This is why I need you.”
Connor needs me. My traitorous heart raps in my chest. No, he needs my help getting a date with another woman. The hope welling inside me bursts like a bubble hitting concrete.
“Words my family and friends would use to describe me?”
“Give me a few minutes for that one.” I pull out my phone and type out a group text to Mallory and her mom.
ME
What are some words you would use to describe Connor?
MALLORY
Annoying. Grumpy. Hermit.
MRS. PORTER
Veronica Mallory Porter, I raised you better than that.
MALLORY
Ooh, I got the full name. That must mean I’m really in trouble.
MRS. PORTER
And to think I was going to make chicken and dumplings for family dinner this weekend since it’s your favorite.
MRS. PORTER
I guess I’ll just have to make Connor’s favorite.
MALLORY
NOOO.
MALLORY
You know how much I hate chili.
MALLORY
Whoever thought ground beef belongs in soup deserves jail time.
MRS. PORTER
Don’t be so dramatic, dear.
MRS. PORTER
Also, chili isn’t soup.
ME
As entertaining as this is, I really do need some words to describe Connor!
MALLORY
Okay, I’ll play nice as long as Mom agrees to still make chicken and dumplings.
MRS. PORTER
Deal.
MALLORY
*GIF of a man saying ‘get in my belly’*
MALLORY
Connor is pragmatic.
MRS. PORTER
Courageous. He’s always been my brave boy.
MALLORY
He’s diligent and meticulous. I mean, have you seen his house and shed? In high school, I moved the lamp on his nightstand a few centimeters to see how long it would take him to notice, and he noticed IMMEDIATELY.
MRS. PORTER
He’s hardworking and reliable. I don’t think he’s ever shown up late in his life.
MALLORY
As much as I love to rag on him, Connor’s loyal, too.
MRS. PORTER
The most loyal kind of man you’ll ever meet.
ME
These are all great, thank you both so much!
MALLORY
Dare I ask what you need all these adjectives for?
ME
Let’s just say it involves a fundraiser.
MALLORY
OH MY GOSH!!! Please tell me he’s going to be in the firefighter auction.
ME
Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner!
MRS. PORTER
I don’t know that I like the idea of women bidding on my son like he’s a piece of meat.
MRS. PORTER
But I suppose since it’s for charity…
MALLORY
I just looked it up and sent you the location, day, and time, Mom. We’re so there.
ME
I’m not sure he’ll like having people he knows there…
MALLORY
Which is exactly why I HAVE to go. I’m never letting him live this down.
MRS. PORTER
He won’t even know we’re there.
MALLORY
Speak for yourself, mamacita.
I bite my bottom lip. I hope Connor won’t be mad that his family found out because of me. I look up and find him watching me intently.
“Good news: I got some adjectives to describe you from your mom and sister.”
“And the bad news?” he asks.
I look down and continue picking at my nail polish. “Your mom and sister figured out why I was asking and are planning on attending the auction.”
He sighs. “It’s not your fault. Let’s just hope I don’t make a complete fool of myself. I’m sure Station 13 will be there, too.”
“Sounds like you’ll have quite the audience.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he grumbles.
“You’re going to do great.”
Connor shakes his head. “I’m out of my wheelhouse here.”
“I have confidence in you.” I knock my knee against his. “And your family does, too.” I read off the adjectives his family used to describe him as Connor types them into the questionnaire.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, but his shoulders are slumped. The way he doubts himself breaks my heart. I wish he could see himself the way I do.
In an effort to cheer him up, I say, “You’re also someone who is willing to help others at the drop of a hat without expecting anything in return.”
Connor stops typing. “I mean, I did make you agree that you’d learn to set boundaries and figure out what you like in exchange for helping you with your flower truck.”
“But that was still your way of helping me.”
“Even though you didn’t ask for it?”
I nod. “Because you saw a need I had and decided to step in without needing to be asked.”
“I think you’re right.” Connor’s eyes soften. “Having you around is good for my confidence.”
You know what would be good for my confidence? A hot little make-out sesh with the man I’ve been dreaming of locking lips with since middle school.
I fan my face with my hand. Not the time, Shay. “Okay, what’s next?”
“What is one thing you can’t live without?” He raises his eyebrows and grumbles, “Solitude.”
I purse my lips. “I’m not sure that’s the kind of answer they’re looking for.”
“Even if it’s the truth?”
“The ladies want to get to know the man they’re trying to win a date with.”
“Then they may as well learn up front that I like my peace and quiet.”
I look around his living room, trying to find a better answer from the stuff he has lying around. “What about noise-cancelling headphones?”
“What about them?”
“As your answer to the question.”