I shove him with my hands and the blanket drops slightly down my breasts before I save myself. “Do you remember last night?”
Connor gives me a funny look as he scratches the back of his head. “Parts.”
“Which parts?” I’m furious.
“Not the part where you apparently got your childhood wish.” He examines his finger and leans back against the headboard. “The one where I’m your husband.”
I groan and quickly slide off the bed, taking the blanket with me, only allowing myself one glance at his impressive package, before giving him a glare. “We did not get married!”
He examines the scene before his eyes discover something, then he leans to the side to grab it from his bedside table. Connor chortles a sound and holds up the paper. “According to this, we are husband and wife.” Why is there a hint of a smug shade across his lips?
“No!” I look up to the ceiling.
Connor scrubs a hand across his face. “I’m sure this is not what my uncle had in mind for staying on the straight and narrow.”
I could scream, but instead, I head directly for the bathroom and abruptly close the door behind me, ensuring I lock it. Walking straight to the mirror, I rub my face and attempt to calm myself down. I look like a trainwreck, yet I have a glow on my cheeks, and this ring is a blinding accessory that is somewhat flipping perfect on my finger, but no, nuh-uh, I am not Connor’s wife!
“What have I done?” I whisper as my thoughts head into a memory from when I was eighteen and why Connor Spears can never be my husband.
Connor grips the steering wheel, internally preparing himself as he pauses before he starts the engine, probably because I’m sitting in the front seat. The air between us feels heightened. For the longest time, I thought the guy was neutral about me, has never given me any indication we could be anything more or less, except lately. First, when he showed up at my dance show, and then the other week when our families went out to dinner to celebrate being drafted. It was near unbearable because I kept catching that his eyes were on me, and our gaze held while his lips tugged, as though my sight on him is something he enjoys.
And here we are because we were both watching our little brothers play T-ball, and our parents wanted to take the team out for pizza and ice cream after. We love our brothers, but not a group of kids their age. Connor and I just looked at one another, agreeing on our version of hell, and made up excuses for why we couldn’t go. A promised attendance at a party for him, and tired for me because I rehearsed for six hours yesterday.
So here’s Connor, driving me home.
He is also my answer, and he might have appeared in my fantasies a few times too. Well, a lot. But right now, it isn’t just that. Something is causing me to want to orbit around him more than usual.
Connor backs the car up and drives us away. “Come on, let’s get you out of here, Sprinkles.” He gave me that nickname when I was thirteen, and I hate it as much as I love it.
“Why do you call me that?”
“Because you used to bring me cupcakes when you had a ridiculous crush, and you smelled of icing and cake. Sprinkles seemed fitting.”
A smile begins to stretch on my mouth.
“Can I go to the party with you?” I try my luck.
He scoffs and doesn’t even bat an eye as he focuses on the road. “Not a chance.”
“Why not?” I ask, defensive.
“Because that’s the deal we’ve always had. I’ve tolerated you because our parents are friends, and I know your dad would want me to keep an eye on you. That means no parties because I can’t watch you every second, and you’re a distraction to most.”
The corner of my mouth tugs that he called me a distraction. “Am I distraction to you?” I glance to him and notice the twist on the corner of his mouth.
“Yes.” He’s blunter than I anticipated, but I love his answer.
Silence overwhelms the car since he just admitted that I’m something.
I sigh and rest my head against the headrest. “I need a moment, and I’m not ready to go home. I’ll only think about my future there.”
He glances sidelong at me for a quick second before returning his focus to the road. It feels as though the mention of my future fueled compassion inside of him. “Come on, I know a place for that.”
“Okay.” A giddy feeling hits me.
It’s a few minutes later when he pulls off onto a side road then up a hill where he parks. It’s empty and dark, but I only feel safe around him. We get out, and the engine is off but his car still plays music, and when I follow him to sit on the back of his car where he opened the hatch, a bit of light from the car highlights his face, and the sky is speckled with stars.
“I come here to think of my future all the time.” He sighs.
