Bring Down the Stars (Beautiful Hearts Duet #1)(37)

“I do but then I feel all this pressure to say something smart or meaningful, instead of just…going with the flow.” Connor shot me a look. “She loved those texts—”

“Forget it.”

He sighed. “You’ve completely abandoned me.”

For my sanity, yes.

“Figure it out,” I said. “You have a lot to offer, man. Can’t you dig a little and find something deeper to talk about?”

“I do. All the time. I tell her she’s pretty, she’s smart. When she starts talking about her goals, I tell her how ambitious she is—”

“She knows that already,” I said. “She doesn’t need compliments, she needs authenticity.”

He shrugged and sipped his Monster drink. “I don’t know. I guess I’m used to things being easier with girls.”

“Do you want to date girls that are easier for you or do you want to date Autumn? What do you want?”

Connor’s fingers tapped the side of the drink can. “I’ve never had a real relationship, you know? She’s my first shot at something serious and I think that’s what I want.” He shot me a grin. “And I want to sleep with her.”

I clenched my teeth, then quickly schooled my face to neutral, but not quick enough.

“Whoa, what was that? You looked like you were about to murder me.” Connor laughed and nudged my shoulder. “What’s with you, anyway? You’ve been even more…you lately, with your trademark Turner charm. And none of your usual parade of girls has passed through this way. What gives?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I’m busy. Doing your homework, by the way.”

I held up a printed page of the Macro-Econ essay I wrote for him. My words. His name at the top. Just like old times.

“Point taken,” Connor said with a laugh. He pushed off the counter and headed for the couch. “Anyway. We’re going to that Emily Dickinson museum like you suggested. That should count for something.”

I rolled my eyes. Counting, winning, keeping score… Connor belonged on the baseball field, not in a poet’s ancestral home. But I was done holding his hand with Autumn.

Or so I kept telling myself.

I refused to write any more texts for him, but I couldn’t keep my mouth shut with advice. The bitch of it all was I wanted both of them to be happy. I wasn’t counseling Connor just for his sake, but for Autumn’s too.

“Don’t be hard on yourself,” I said. “She needs someone like you to make her laugh and feel good.”

Connor sniffed from the couch. “She also needs the poetry and deep conversations, and saying the right thing at the right time. All that shit I’m not good at. I’m telling you, Wes, if you and I merged into one person, we’d be Autumn’s perfect guy.”

I stared as the truth of it slammed me in the chest. How often had I wished I had Connor’s easy-going humor? His open, friendly demeanor that drew people in, instead of my repellant brand of derision and snark.

But repelling was better than losing. That was my sad truth, constructed around me like an exoskeleton of armor I couldn’t take off.

“I’m going for a run,” I said.

“Cool.” Connor yawned, stretched, and reached for his Xbox controller. “I’ll order pizza later.”

I went out without another word, to run my stupid infatuation with Autumn out of me. But like the words on the page, there was always more.





Autumn



“Hayes, oh my God… Yes…YES…”

My roommate’s voice carried through the house, her drumming headboard keeping time. I smashed my pillow over my face and rolled onto my stomach. A peek at the clock said it was three a.m. Every weekend for the past month, Ruby and the runner from Wesleyan had played this song, whether I wanted to hear it or not.

Finally, after a screaming crescendo that showed Ruby had inherited some of her mother’s vocal prowess, quiet descended on the apartment. But the damage was done—I had to be up in two hours for my double-shift at the Panache Blanc.

I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t even be mad. What Ruby and Hayes had were #relationshipgoals as far as I was concerned. I envied her sleepy, tumbled-in-a-dryer, rumpled look the morning after. I envied even more her ability to keep things light and fun.

I’d tried my best to do the same with Connor, but the last month had been an expanded version of our first date. Our conversations never seemed to last long or delve as deep as I wanted them to. Most of the time, we waded through the shallow waters of small talk.

And yet…

I closed my eyes, remembering soft moments when Connor swept me off my feet with a look. Said something to make me laugh. Or made me feel beautiful and wanted.

And God, could the man kiss…

In the last week of September, we went with his gang to Lake Onota, to swim in the river and have a bonfire afterward. Connor and I kissed under a blanket in the sand, his hands roaming over me until I had to fight to keep my moans quiet.

He succeeded in easing the pain of my break-up, but we’d come to a standstill. I’d told him I wanted to keep it casual and maybe he was honoring that, both by not pushing me into something physical, and by keeping his more sentimental side to himself. But I wished he wouldn’t. Then I could stop fighting and let myself fall.