“Being in shape is important to you?”
For the first time since we walked in, Connor made sustained eye contact with me. And it wasn’t the happy, cheerful kind of eye contact.
“The reason Long Beach was full of assholes is related to that,” he said. “I’ll let you connect the dots.”
He slammed his beer down with one last gulp.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he said. “I need to get some fresh air.”
“Can you wait until I finish my beer?” I said.
Connor snorted.
“Make it fast.”
If I didn’t know better, I would have guessed that this was what Connor meant by space. I was starting to figure out that the tough, brutal appearance served as a warning to others as much as a shield from having to take on more burden and weight. I did not want to be inside this guy’s mind, even if I wanted to be beside his body.
I tried to finish my beer as quickly as I could, though I wasn’t exactly an expert drinker, not even in college. I could sense Connor’s discomfort with having to wait for me, so I tried to push through, but damn. Guinness was not meant to be chugged.
As soon as I finished chugging, Connor threw down a twenty-dollar bill on the counter, walked outside ahead of me, and disappeared beyond the door. I looked at the bartender as if he might understand Connor’s behavior, but he was too busy taking the twenty and cleaning the table in front of me to do anything about it. I went outside and found Connor pacing in place.
I opened my mouth to ask if he was all right, but that would have been a stupid question. He wasn’t. I’d probably asked questions he hadn’t even asked himself. I felt like I was making this date into a complete disaster. I’d overdressed, asked too many questions, and put Connor into too much of a funk.
And then he walked over to me.
“You’re not fucking with me, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“This better not be a fucking trap,” he said. “I’m not going to be telling you about myself so that you can be mocking me later. I’ll fucking burn your store down if you—”
“Connor!” I said, taking his hand.
Like calming a wild beast down by grabbing their neck, I could feel Connor slowly start to loosen up.
“I am not fucking with you,” I said. “I just want to get to know you better. I’m sorry if I pressed too hard. I just want to get to know you better.”
The whole thing felt like it was teetering between either fucking enormous disaster or a hill that, once climbed, would lead to something great. I was now more convinced than ever that Connor wasn’t being a dick; he just didn’t know how to act in spots like these.
He nodded at me. He pulled his hand back. But his breathing had eased.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s walk.”
We took a couple steps forward.
“And ask whatever you want. I make no promises that I’ll answer you, though.”
