Dream girl…
Got away…
Saving his heart for you…
“Oh, you know,” I stalled. “Girl stuff.”
“I’m surprised.” Connor playfully zapped my waist. Goose bumps burst on my skin. “She didn’t ask about your intentions?”
I knew he was only teasing, but my body reacted before I could tease him back.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…” he said, incredulous. “Shedidask?”
Shit, I thought.Shit, shit, shit.
I didn’t want to get Mads in trouble, because even if her words worried me, I knew she meant well. And she technically hadn’t asked after my intentions. The tractor’s cinematic arrival had made sure of that.
Connor prodded me. “Olivia?”
“Mmm?”
“Jeez, don’tmmmme…”
“No,” I said, wincing at my voice. It sounded a little too firm. “No, there was no interrogation.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “She’s a really great friend, Connor.”
“I know,” he said as he shifted to prop himself up on an elbow. We made eye contact in the lantern’s dim light. “Can you please loop me in here?”
My heart twisted. “Only if you promise not to get upset at Mads.”
“I promise,” he said, no hesitation. “Mads usually has a method to her madsness.”
Mads-ness.
If the night were less charged, I would’ve laughed. “Okay, it’snot a big deal,” I said, stupidly making it sound like the opposite. “We were just talking about you, and Mads mentioned how much I mean to you, and that you’ve haven’t felt this way about any other girls.”
Connor didn’t even blink. “I don’t understand. What’s the problem?”
I opened my mouth, but he fit puzzle pieces together too fast.
“Unless the issue is on your end,” he said. “You mean a lot to me, but I don’t mean as much to you.”
I shook my head. “That’s not what I’m saying. Not at all. It’s just…”
“It’s just?” he prompted when I trailed off. “It’s just what?”
“It just wasn’t supposed to be like this!” I blurted, sitting up and suddenly feeling very naked. Too naked. “We’re supposed to be having fun together—wearehaving fun together—but what does that mean to you, Connor?”
He didn’t speak for a second, so I took the silence to snatch my shirt off the floor and pull it over my head.
“It means exactly that,” he finally said as the nighttime breeze rustled our tent. “We’re having fun together… It’s the truth, but to me, it’s also an understatement.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I think about us picking up where we left off when I get back home next month. I want to invite you over for dinner so you can meet my family. I imagine us taking turns visiting each other at school. You know Notre Dame is only a hundred miles from Northwestern, right?”
“That’s so Troy Bolton,” I mumbled, thinking of the corny but still swoonyHigh School Musicalline. “Thirty-two point seven miles away from you,” Troy pointed out to Gabriella, when telling her about his college choice.
But I didn’t hate hearing it.
Not at all.
Quite the opposite.
