Page 10 of Made Better Together

Still no sign of Connor.

You should double-check your phone, in case he’s messaged you?

Strolling up the stairs to the deck, I stop in front of one of the large fans they’ve blessedly set up. Pulling my phone out, I go to my Instagram DMs.

Nope, nothing new. Just our messages from three days ago.

EDEN: Hi, I wasn’t sure if you knew this already, but I’m coming to Grace’s wedding with my dad. I know you’ll be busy with your family but just wanted to give you a heads up :)

I’d debated for two weeks whether to send him the message, but ultimately figured it’s better to break the ice virtually than in the middle of this big affair.

We haven’t interacted since he liked a post from my spring break trip with my besties from the soccer team. “Everyone is single at the same time for the first time, and you know what that means…” had been the caption.

It’s been a lot longer since we’ve seen each other.

After I sent the DM, it took him half a day to respond—I suspect he’s not on social media much—but when he did, I was grateful I did write.

CONNOR: I didn’t know, but that’s great. I’ll find a way we can chat.

I’m sure he hadn’t combed over his sister’s guest list, so it made sense he didn’t know. At least the fact that I’m attending wouldn’t be a surprise in real time.

EDEN: Awesome :)

The offer to catch up was more than I expected, with his inevitable family obligations for the wedding. Standing here on the deck now, with no new DMs from the man, there’s no sign it’ll actually happen. I try to tamp down my disappointment.

At the end of the day, you barely know him, and he’s probably slammed with duties for the event.

I’m also as guilty as him at neglecting our social media interactions. We’ve not exactly been regular correspondents.

Yet there’s been something unforgettable about Connor since that first day we met, when he towered over Dad, all arms and legs, staring at me like I’d shocked him somehow.

Of course, in the two summers after, I’ve had a chance to take note as the reed-like frame of his filled out, his personality started to show itself, and well…other things.

With my phone open, I slip into my habit of checking for unread messages. I’ve come to hate the red little circles on each app with the number of unopened texts and emails. But the discomfort of leaving them to linger, unreviewed and unanswered, is even greater.

New email number one is for my NIL deal with FlashFuel, an energy drink company, and contains the specs for the next collab they want me to do. Fine.

New email number two is an interview request for the Tolliver Times, our school paper. Fine.

New email number three is from our Tolliver head coach, Marnie Brenner, confirming the schedule of our upcoming preseason. Fine.

Seriously, don’t these people know it’s a holiday?

It turns out my unread text messages are all from Bree.

BREE: Have you seen him yet?

BREE: I wonder if he’ll whisk you off to do some dirty things.

BREE: By the way, have you figured out the plan for your captain’s practice tomorrow? Because I have some thoughts.

I love Bree, but texting with her about drills for our first player-only session or Connor maybe wanting to hook up at his sister’s wedding is not exactly productive at the moment.

EDEN: Hiiiiii…not yet to all. Let’s talk when I’m home.

After I press send, I slip my phone in my purse before everything swirling in my world distracts me again.

I don’t begrudge Bree’s questions about Connor, though, because it’s thanks to her there’s even something to ask about…