Not nearly, but talk about a coincidence!
I appreciated that he’d let me handle Chad on my own, though. I didn’t need someone swooping in to save me.
“When do you think this moratorium will end?” Marco asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Meredith—one of the bridesmaids—wonders if I’ve already met the right guy but haven’t realized it yet.”
“Ah…” Marco took off his glasses to clean their lenses. “Connor.”
My stomach dropped. “You think so too?!”
Because the Monnor (or Cads?) ship was gaining speed. Austin, Samira, the bridesmaids, Natalie, and I doubted my dads would ever oppose…
“I don’tthink.” Marco gave me acut the bullshitlook. “Isee. You were staring at him all night tonight.”
“I was?” I asked, even though I knew he was right—the supercut began to play in my head. Connor glancing up from the bowl of chips and salsa to smile at me, Connor running a mindless hand through his fair hair, Connor backing his brother up when Liam claimed that Taylor Swift would ultimately fix the United States economy, Connor’s elbow brushing mine while we chowed down on Da’s grilled corn on the cob.
But then there was also Connor…andLauren. Connor holding Lauren’s hand as she smiled and said it was great to seeme. Connor laughing when Lauren confessed to Austin, future DMD, that she never flossed. Connor introducing Lauren as his “girlfriend” to my parents.
You idiot, the voice in my head berated.You blew it!
I should’ve known better. Connor had a reputation with girls. He wasn’t a man-slut or anything; he genuinely liked having a girlfriend and Lauren had been campaigning for months.Whyhad I procrastinated so long about asking him out? Connor wasn’t expecting me to, he had no idea it was coming—or,supposedto come. Why the hell had I thought he would wait for me to get my shit together?
“It’s too late,” I whispered, to both Marco and the moon. “I’m too late.”
“Maybe,” Marco whispered back. “Maybe not.”
“Listen, I’mnotgoing to break them up,” I said. “I would never do that to Connor.”
“I wasn’t remotely suggesting that,” Marco replied. “And I’m a bit insulted you thought otherwise.”
I laughed. “You’re right; I’m not that sweet to you.”
“Nah, you are.” Marco grinned. “You’re just more of a sweet tart than a sweetheart.”
“Connor goes for sweethearts,” I grumbled.
Because Lauren Bitterman? She might’ve gotten on my nerves, but everyone at school thought she was nice. Like Connor, she’d unanimously been voted next spring’s lacrosse captain.
“Connor’s only seventeen,” Marco said. “He doesn’t know anything.”
“Oh, and you do?” I asked airily. “Has Princeton already taught you everything?”
“Noteverything,” he answered, tossing the throw pillow back at me. I hugged it to my chest after catching it. “But yes, sweet tart, I like to think I know some stuff.”
“Like what?” I teased, but when he only winked at me, I felt the sudden and strange urge to hide my face in the pillow and scream.
He was exasperating.
Fourteen
Little did I know that while I’d been away at Penn’s field hockey camp the following week, Marco had pretty much made himself at home. I slept in the day after getting back, and once I’d finally summoned the energy to drag my aching body downstairs, I spotted him through a window. He was out on the front porch, working at his laptop and surrounded by books. “She rises!” he said when I joined him at the table with a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast slathered in raspberry jam. “Like a phoenix from the ashes!”
“Mmm,” was my muttered response.
Marco chuckled. “How was camp?”
“Completely and utterly—shit!” I spotted the time on my Apple Watch. “I’ll be right back! Make sure the dogs don’t get my breakfast!”
