“You’re embarrassing,” I murmur, my face heating down my throat.
“I know. Does it bother you?”
When I sit in the car, I turn the volume down before any of the teachers appear. “No,” I admit lamely.
“Hey, Andy,” Conner calls as he closes my side of the car door.
My stomach stirs. I glance in the side mirror and at Andy watching from outside his car. His eyes narrow, and his fists clench, trembling at his sides.
Lowering my focus away from him, I pay attention to Conner. He closes his car door and smiles at me.
I will worry about Andy on Monday. For now, I will focus on Conner. “Why did you do that?” I ask while he drives out of the car park.
“I felt like singing, and when your song came on, it reminded me of you.”
“Are you always this spontaneous?”
“I’d like to think of it as one of my personality traits.” He leans towards me and grins. “Yours is blushing whenever you’re embarrassed—even if it’s over the smallest things. It’s cute.”
“Stop,” I whisper as I stare out the window.
He’s right. I’m doing it now as I relive Conner’s singing. And he knows, too. His breathy amusement slips out of his parted lips.
“Also, thank you for today.” I rub my palms along my tights. “I had fun.”
“I know. I wish I had been there to see it, though. Aaron told me you were super excited when you rolled high on the dice.”
I smile as I overlook the homes blurring past.
“You look beautiful when you smile,” Conner states.
“Sorry?” My eyes widen in bewilderment.
“You heard me.”
I certainly did, but I hoped he would respond differently after I questioned him.
Conner is candid. Too honest, and I guess his honesty surprised me. It’s like he’s an open book that’s ready for me to read while I’m here with chains, creating thousands of locks to ensure no one reads me.
Except that Conner has the master key and is twisting every lock with each interaction we have. He is turning pages. Figuring me out before I can figure myself out. And there’s a part of me that wants him to.
I want to sit in this car all night and tell him about my childhood, why I buy beer, and the utmost fear hovering over me.
But the thought of Dad suffocates those thoughts, and that shiny badge on his chest and gun strapped to his waist causes me to hold my tongue. He can move the pieces on the chessboard without rules restricting him.
Heisthe rules, and it weighs far more heavily on my shoulders than telling Conner any more than he should know.
“What is your favourite colour?”Conner asks as I finish serving the lady at the register. “I love the colour green.”
“Orange,” I answer.
“Why?”
“Like the sunset.” I clean the rollers. “Why do you like green?”
“There are different shades of green, so when I draw grass, leaves or mulch, I dabble with many colours, and I like that.”
A man enters my lane with his groceries. My thoughts run deeper at Conner’s answer while I scan the man’s packaged food.