Begin Again(85)

“After everything we’ve been through? Just like that?”

Connor leans back on the console, trying to seem confident, like he knows exactly what to say next. He looks more like his father than he ever has.

“I know you, Andie. Past, present, future. I’ve been there for everything. Do you think we’ll ever find other people who know us half as well as we know each other?” He sits on the edge of the seat, pressing a hand to his chest. “I know how to make you happy. I want to make you happy.”

I say it as gently as I can, even though I’m saying it through my teeth. “I don’t think either of us has been happy in a long time.”

Connor just continues on like he hasn’t heard me, not even giving the words a chance to land. “This is all just—it’s growing pains. Or maybe it’s being away from Little Fells so long. I mean, maybe this place is the problem. We weren’t supposed to be in a place like this.” He gestures out at the campus beyond these walls. “Do you really feel like you belong here?”

“Excuse me?”

Connor recognizes the edge in my voice and tries to recover. “What I mean is—we have so many friends in Little Fells. We were so happy. We never had problems before then.”

“You created the problem, Connor. Not me,” I say clearly. “And now on top of everything, you’re going to sit here and imply I’m not good enough to be here?”

“Well. Andie. You didn’t even get in the first time around.”

It takes a lot to make me angry. And up until now, I didn’t even think I had it in me to kick it up a notch to actual rage. But it comes swarming through me anyway, this roaring, fiery blaze that starts in my core and rushes through me so fast I’m almost dizzy with it.

“I didn’t get in because of you, Connor.”

I’m not yelling, but the way Connor’s jaw drops in surprise, I might as well be. I’ve never seen myself this riled, so of course, neither has he.

But it’s been years of holding this in my heart. The anxiety over my grades and the heartbreak from the rejection and the exhaustion of doing everything, anything I could to find my way back here to my mom. To the dream I had for myself long before I knew she wouldn’t be there to see it.

“I spent our entire sophomore year focusing on your classes and your pressure from your parents and I ended up with a bunch of Cs,” I say. “You asked for my help. You asked and asked and asked, and I gave it. And I never held that against you because that was my choice, but—” I have to pause, only because I’ve never felt this kind of fury before. I don’t know how to hold on to it, but I need it. I need to say this here and now, to let it out of myself so I never have to carry it again. “How dare you bring that up. When you should know full well why I didn’t get in the first time. Why I had to work twice as hard to get in on a transfer.”

“But—it’s not like I wanted you to fail at my expense,” Connor says defensively. “I mean, come on, Andie.”

I shake my head. He knew I was skipping out on my own work to study for his back then, the same way he’s known about it this whole semester. For a moment I’m back to Valentine’s Day, sitting on my bed, Connor’s voice low in my ears: You’d still give up all this time to make this happen for me?

“And now I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” I say, letting out a strangled laugh. I felt so lost here in the beginning that I relied on something that I knew I could do: help Connor. All this work scrambling around to get his ribbons when I should have been studying, or exploring campus, or spending more time with my friends—I was so worried about keeping my place with him, with his family, that I barely let myself find a place here.

But I don’t need that crutch anymore. I’m not lost. And I can tell Connor knows it when he suddenly stands up, not quite matching my anger but coming close. “You’re acting like I’m the only bad guy here.”

“Oh yeah?” This time I’m the one who takes a step toward him. He has half a foot on me, but I’ve never felt taller in my life. “And what did I do?”

“You clearly fell for another guy.”

My skin feels hot enough to ignite. “Be careful what you say next, Connor, because there’s only one cheater in this room.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t have some dumb crush on your RA.”

The guilt is so immediate that for the first time, I know it’s true. I do have a crush on Milo. It’s been simmering for months, and only now has it started to boil and burn.

But that’s just it—the difference between me and Connor. I never would have acted on it. I know myself, and I know Milo. I would never cheat on anyone, and he never would have let himself be a part of it.

Connor takes my stunned silence and rolls with it. “I mean, for Christ’s sake, you just dragged me into a windowless room with his picture mounted on the wall; who knows what you’ve been up to in—”

“This is a recording studio. He’s the Knight,” I spit back.

“And you’re in here all the time because . . . ?”

It’s not like I mean to say it. But seeing the way his eyebrows raise in this suggestive, accusatory way makes my stomach roil, both on my behalf and Milo’s.

“Because I’m the Squire,” I tell him.