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“You keep saying that, but I don’t—”
“I’m not doing this right now,” I snap, filling a cup with water. I reach up, turn the combination lock for the top cupboard where we keep all Mom’s meds, glasses, and anything sharp that could possibly harm her. I gather all the pills she needs at night and turn to Connor. “I’ll meet you in my room. Can you set everything up?”
He nods, but he doesn’t move.
I go to Mom, wake her gently, and help her to her room, where she downs multiple pills and falls back asleep without any issues. When I get to my room, Connor’s sitting on my desk chair, a tripod set up in front of him. He has his phone attached, the camera angled to my bed. We’re working on the multimedia project we were given early in the semester. For the past few days, we’d been doing the research and working on the script, and tonight we’re supposed to be filming it. “Should I change?” I ask, looking down at my baggy T-shirt and sweatpants.
“I think you look perfect,” Connor says, a sad, crooked smile playing on his lips.
I open my drawers, one by one, without really looking at anything in there. I hear the desk chair rolling across the carpet before I feel Connor’s touch on my waist. I turn to him, see the anguish coating his expression. “Why are you trying to keep this from me?”
“I told you, it’s not your problem.” Besides, who is he to question me when it comes to secrets?
“It is my problem.” He pulls me down until I’m sitting sideways on his leg, my feet between his. “You know how much I care about you, right?” I stay quiet because I don’t know how to respond. He kisses my temple, keeps his lips there. “What’s happening with us, Ava? I feel like we’re falling apart.”
Because we are.
“I don’t know, Connor. There’s just so much going on right now…”
“Why can’t you let me be a part of that?”
“You have your own things.” Wendy things. “We should just do this assignment and call it a night.” I get up, sit on the edge of my bed in front of the camera, and start going through my notes. Connor stays where he is, his head lowered. “Or we can do this tomorrow if you want.”
“No.” He shakes his head, then looks up at me. “We’ll do it now.”
He sets up behind the phone and presses record. I read off the script, doing my best to perform for the camera, but every time I look up, I see Connor’s face. See the way he looks at me through the screen of his phone. Something is missing. The brightness in his eyes has dulled, and he doesn’t look at me the way he used to, the way I love.
Gray.
Everything is gray, and there’s no color around me, no life.
I pause my speech and clear my throat, try to blink back my emotions. “Maybe now’s not a good time for this.”
He sighs, his gaze lifting an inch to look at the real me. His hands go to his hair, tugging. Then he gets up to sit next to me. “I can’t fix this if I don’t know what’s broken, Ava.”
Me.
I’m broken.
Every time I look at my mother, it breaks me.
Every time Trevor walks through the door, it shatters me.
And every time I’m with Connor, it ruins me.
“I’m fine,” I lie. Again. “I just want you to be the same.”
He nods, accepting the vagueness of my response, and sucks in a huge breath. “You want me to stay with you tonight?”
I’m quick to shake my head, ignoring the disappointment that fills his eyes. “I’m pretty beat,” I tell him. “I’m probably just going to sleep now.” He knows it’s an excuse, just like every other night since we slept together in his truck. He hasn’t stayed over, and we haven’t been intimate. Besides, it’s hard to give that part of yourself to someone when you’re constantly questioning whether he’s given that part of him to someone else.
THIRTY-TWO
connor
The next morning, Ava’s waiting out by my truck in her pajamas, not even close to being ready for school. “You left your phone on the tripod,” she says, handing it to me.
“Yeah, I figured,” I say, tapping on the screen. The batteries dead; not surprising.
