Begin Again(84)

I hold up my phone. “I was just . . .”

Calling to break up with you, is what I should say.

But Connor gives me a rueful smile. “Even now we’re on the same wavelength, huh?”

I’m not the one saying the words, but somehow they still leave a bitter taste in my mouth. I step farther away from the quad, like I don’t want Connor’s presence to taint the magic I’m still coming down from. Connor follows one step behind, his eyes trained on me.

We reach the outside of an academic building where the crowd has thinned out and I stop. “Connor, I’m sorry, but . . .” It feels so weird to say. The finality of it. The way a few small words can finish something bigger than I can measure. “I’m done.”

His expression crumples so quickly that I can’t help the way my heart sinks—like watching him fall during that soccer game where he screwed up his knee, or when we were little kids and someone made fun of his slight stutter. There’s this urge to comfort him, to wipe the hurt from his face, that feels too loud to ignore.

“Andie. Andie, please,” he says, tears already clogging his throat. “Just . . . is there somewhere we can talk? I have so much I need to say. Things I should have said a long time ago.”

I glance down at my phone, willing myself not to waver. “I have an exam. You can follow me to the studio to get my stuff. But after that, I have to go.”

“Of course,” says Connor, his head bobbing. “We can talk there?”

I blow a breath out through my teeth, surprised at my own impatience. “Yeah. Sure.”

We walk over to the studio without another word, Connor slouching with his hands in his pockets and watching me closely, me shooting a quick text to Valeria and Shay not to wait up for me before picking up the pace. I need this to be finished.

I’ve spent too much time worrying about my future with Connor. I don’t think I even understood how much until I spent most of this day not worrying about him at all. I’ve always had space for him the way I have space in myself for everyone I love—but after today, after feeling so light and oddly free, I realize his space had its own weight. I’ve been pulling it for ages, and it’s only gotten heavier this past year.

I can’t hold on to it anymore.

If Connor senses the finality of the conversation we’re about to have, he sure doesn’t show it. The instant the door to the studio closes he takes stock of the place like this is a social visit, like he’s expecting me to give the whole tour. Music from the dance party set list is playing lightly from the booth, and Connor even tries to jokingly dance to it, like he can lighten the mood. Then he spots my backpack in the corner, sees the ribbons poking out of the front pocket.

“I can’t believe how hard you must have worked to get all of those,” he says, the waver in his voice undermining all his bravado.

My own voice is unyielding. “Yeah. Maybe someone else will want them.”

Connor takes a step toward me and I take a step back, so quickly that he startles.

“You mean it, huh?” he asks, deflating again. “After all this time, you’d really just give up on us.”

There’s this sweeping tone in his voice, romantic and tragic, the kind that might have made my heart skip a beat in some other circumstance.

“You cheated on me, Connor,” I say, shattering the spell of it. “And lied to me and to everyone we know about your transfer in a way that made me look like the biggest jerk in Little Fells.”

“And I’ll never not be sorry about it,” says Connor. “You know how much pressure I was under. I was so embarrassed. I didn’t want you to know the truth.”

“But I suppose it was okay for your other girlfriend to know it,” I say.

“Everything with Valeria happened because I was so ashamed. She was tutoring me. She already knew, and I just—It’s not an excuse,” he says quickly, when he sees my scowl deepening. “I just needed to explain.”

He runs a hand through his hair, taking a seat in the chair by the sound console. Shay’s chair. He glances at the chair next to it, clearly expecting me to sit down next to him. But if I let myself get settled, he’ll have more time to try to talk me out of this, and that’s the last thing I need.

“I mean, I know I can’t expect you to forgive me right away . . .”

He leaves the sentence hanging like I’m going to set terms, or give some timeline for that forgiveness. “Connor, you’ve been the one saying over and over how difficult the distance was,” I say instead. If I can’t appeal to the fact that he’s hurt me, I might as well remind him what it’ll do to him, too. “That’s not going to change. You’ll be in Little Fells and I’ll be here.”

“About that.”

I tilt my head sharply, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Uh—so my dad has a friend. It’d be a big favor, but . . .” Connor takes a breath, a shaky smile forming on his face. “He might be able to get me back into Blue Ridge next year.”

My jaw goes tight enough to chip a tooth.

“Good for you,” I say tersely.

Connor is earnest. Insistent. Like this blow to his pride is something he’s doing for my benefit, and nobody else. “We’d be together.”

“No. We wouldn’t,” I say calmly. “I’m breaking up with you.”