We have time.
I wakewith no sense of morning or night, at least not from the room without windows. My phone, though, tells me it’s late morning. I slept past ten. That’s a first.
And there’s a message.
Samantha: How did yours and Conner’s first night go????
I smile.
Me: Really good.
Samantha (literally thirty seconds later): Did you have sex?????
Me: No.
Samantha: YOU DID! OMG! TELL ME EVERYTHING!!! DID IT HURT?
Samantha (again): My first time with Dylan hurt so badly. But then we found out it was bc we were going in dry. Did you do foreplay before sex?
You know what… I’m not going to respond. There’s no need. I can explain everything tomorrow morning at school, where I can tell her in person that nothing likethathappened. It’s so hard to convey that through text, at least to Samantha.
The door opens without a sound, and I leave the room. My clothes are folded and crisp on the ground beside the door. I look around as I pick them up, but there are no signs of Conner, and his bedroom door is wide open.
After I put on my clothes, I head to the washing machine, put Conner’s clothes in it, find the washing powder and fabric softener, turn the machine on, and walk around the kitchen island. I peek outside, but he isn’t on the balcony or in the bathroom. The door is wide open.
I go back into the bedroom, fear spiking when I grab my phone. What if Dad found out I wasn’t at Samantha’s, and he sought me out and did something to Conner while I was sleeping? Could I have slept through that?
No, I don’t think I would have been able to. The distinct voice of Dad would have woken me up. Unless he broke in while we were sleeping and?—
I jump when the door to the apartment opens. “Noya,” Conner calls.
I exhale a breath as I leave the bedroom.
Conner holds a tray with two cups. I can smell the dense, intoxicating coffee beans. And in his other hand, he holds a paper bag. He smiles, those hazel eyes crinkling. Knowing heis safe, my heart softens, and the tension around my bones releases.
Is this what I will be like every time he leaves the apartment? Will I freak out, wondering if Dad is outside, waiting for him to leave?
“I brought coffee and toasties.”
“Toasties?” I ask as I lean against the kitchen bench.
Conner nods as he places the bag in front of me. He grabs one cup of coffee and declares, “Ham, tomato, and cheese toasties.”
“Yum,” I say before sipping the bitter coffee. I smile at the sugar hit, realising Conner knows my ideal coffee taste.
We head out onto the balcony overlooking the large, round lake. People are walking about, or sitting on the grass, and the hum of cars rushes through my eardrums.
I listen to Conner as he tells me about his struggles with balancing drawing and what the world wants him to do: aim high, study at university, get a degree, and get paid immensely for his efforts.
“I’m not interested inanyof that,” he admits. Conner leans his elbows on the railing and overlooks the lake—no, it’s as if he’s overlooking the world… in a way. I find it attractive. “I want a choice to do what I love doing before I settle. Live life, right?” Conner scoffs. “They jam it down our throats on howwehave a choice until we’re in debt, paying off fees for venturing into a field that we might regret later in life.”
“And it seems like I am more your boulder than a rock to lean on,” I murmur. “You’re going to university because I want to graduate.”
“Not necessarily you,” he answers, grimacing. “My mum is a pusher. She wants me to thrive because there was a time when she was at a standstill, in an awful place with an evil man. Mum doesn’t want me to give up on education. Yet, she fails to understand that I’m not giving up. I’m thriving at what I lovedoing.” Conner takes a sip of his coffee and sighs. “She will understand more when we leave. It’s all about actions, and she’s wary because I haven’t acted and shown her how well I’m doing.”
“But you can do that after you graduate. What’s a year at university going to do for your dreams? Aside from delaying it.”
“My dreams aren’t everything if I can’t have that dream with you,” he breathes. “So, I will appease my mum for a year, save, and when you graduate, our dream will start—that is, if you want that.”