11

The sun is setting when we finally escape from the rehearsal dinner, and my tolerance for people reached its limit hours ago. The brief break that Connor and I took gave me a temporary boost of energy, but it faded when we rejoined the group.

They invited us to go back to the bar tonight, but as much as I love Cho and Andrew, I have no interest in socializing with the rest of the bridal party.

I had to grit my teeth and listen to one of the other bridesmaids, Kyra, whisper to Teri about how hot Connor is, and Teri egged her on, side-eying me the entire time. As far as I know, she hasn't shared what she saw last night between me and Connor, but her bitter expression says it all.

She's like a kid who's had a toy taken away.

A dog that lost her bone.

She wanted me, thought she could have me, and now she's deciding whether she's going to bite or just keep barking.

"Are we heading up to the room?" Connor's been off all day, and when he didn't want to talk about it this morning, I let it go. But what he said to me outside earlier just confirmed that he's struggling with this… with us.

Part of me wonders if giving in was the wrong decision.

Then I remember the desperate way he kissed me, and the explosive chemistry between us every time we touch, and it only wants me to get him alone again. I grab Connor's hand, weaving my fingers between his. His eyes fall to our entwined hands, and he takes a deep breath as he gives a quick squeeze.

And releases me.

The absence of his hand is like a weight in mine, and I glance up at his face, trying to read him. To an untrained eye, nothing seems out of the ordinary, and he appears completely normal, if not subdued.

But not me. I've been watching people for years, and I know what I see.

"No, I thought we'd visit our spot for a while." He doesn't even look at me as he speaks, just turns and walks towards the beach.

"It might rain." I gesture up at the dark sky, the stars missing except in small patches where the clouds let them peek through.

"Then we'll go inside if it does," he snaps, and I skid to a stop. This is the first time he's ever been short with me… the only time he's shown any blatant signs of anger.

He doesn't get snippy.

"Connor." He stops, but doesn't turn to face me, and my heart slams against the bars of my chest. I take a few hesitant steps closer, my hand outstretched towards him, but his tense posture has me retracting, letting it hang limply by my side once more. "Connor?" I whisper, and he flinches.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he mutters, dragging his palm over his face. In that moment, he looks so defeated that I can't resist reaching out and clutching his shirt, tugging until he takes a half-turn towards me.

His hand still obscures his face. "Have I done something to upset you?"

A momentary pause hangs in the air as he swallows and takes a deep inhale. When he finally meets my eyes, his smile is forced.

It's fake and insincere, and I fucking hate it.

"Of course not," he says, reaching to tuck my hair behind my ear again. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. Today was just a long day." He smiles again, a rigid, pitiful excuse for the real thing, like it's carved from wood and nailed to his face.

"Don't lie to me." He averts his gaze, and his shitty lying skills would be funny if I weren't at the receiving end of them. "If you don't want to tell me what's wrong, that's fine. I would never force you. But that is a rule, Connor. Our rule. We don't fucking lie to each other."

"I know…I know, and I'm sorry." He closes his eyes, tilting his face towards the dark sky. "Just… give me a few minutes."

"Okay," I whisper, and he wordlessly continues walking to our chairs on the beach. He's so heavy as he sinks down onto his, still staring at the darkness above.

A long stretch of silence beats between us before he breaks through the quiet. "Hey Tai?"

"Yeah?" I ask, kicking myself at my obvious overeagerness.

"I double dare you to tell me a secret."

"A secret?"

He nods, refusing to look at me. "Something you've never shared with anyone else."

Minutes tick by in silence as I prepare myself, and my voice is rough when I speak. "Everyone thinks I've got it all figured out." His eyes dart to me for a moment before drifting back to the sky. "They use the same word to describe me. Cool . I'm viewed as this… this calm and collected person who never gets worked up and never falters."

My hand rubs across my chest, at the phantom ache that lives there. "I've struggled with anxiety for most of my life, but it really blew up when I came out to my family."

"They weren't supportive?"

A dry, bitter laugh blows from my nose. "That's putting it mildly. They're very traditional, and the second I turned twenty, they were pushing me to find a nice girl to settle down with. Build a family. Be the picture-perfect son they'd always wanted, instead of… me."

"Fuck them," he announces, and I can't help my small laugh.

"My anxiety skyrocketed after that and hit a head when I had a panic attack in the middle of the grocery store one day. It was… fucking stupid. I was shopping, and my mom text me to say she'd set me up on a blind date with a friend's daughter. All of a sudden, it was impossible to breathe . My lungs felt like they were stone, and there was no way to fill them. It was terrifying, but I pretended nothing was happening, just kept on shopping until I couldn't anymore."

"I left my cart, and I fucking ran. I barely made it to my car, and when I sat down, I just… screamed. Or, I tried, but there was no air in my lungs. Nothing to make them work. I don't know how long I was sitting there, completely frozen in place, before the weight on my chest lifted."

Tears burn behind my eyes, and I glance over to find Connor's attention fully focused on me. "What happened?" His voice is so gentle, it only hurts worse.

"Went to therapy for a while… figured out how to manage the panic attacks when they snuck up on me. Learned how to control my face, my body language, to hide everything that was happening inside my head."

"No one knows?"

"No," I say, rolling over on my side to look at him. "My best friend suspects, I think. He has this way of seeing through me, no matter how practiced I am at making it seem like I have it all together. The others… my closest friends… they have no idea. Whenever one of them makes a comment about how cool I am, I want to scream. To show them what a broken fucking mess I really am."

"Why don't you tell them?"

I cross my arms over my chest, needing the pressure to ground me. "It hasn't happened in a long time… years. Part of me believes that if I refuse to acknowledge that part of my past, it never happened. It can't hurt me."

Connor's eyes get heavy, and he rolls to his back and stares at the sky. His lips separate as if he wants to say something, but he hesitates, changing his mind and shaking his head. "Thank you for telling me," he finally says. "What helps when you have one?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you were to have a panic attack now, what could I do to help you get past it?" His question causes a lump in my throat, because he sees right through me. The impending end of our time together has me closer to a breakdown than I've been in years.

"Ground me. Touch… sound… give me something to latch onto. Something tangible that I can focus on. There's a grounding technique that makes you go through your senses… find five things you can see, four things you can hear, and so on."

"Gotcha… hold you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear." A surprised laugh bubbles out of me, and Connor's smile spreads across his face for the first time since we left dinner.

Quiet surrounds us again as the gravity of my story hovers over both of us. "It's your turn," I say as Connor nods.

"Mine seems insignificant after that."

"Don't do trauma comparisons, man. There's no contest."

He chuckles, but the sound is heavy. "Fair enough." Another minute goes by as he continues to stare at the sky, and I miss the weight of his eyes on me. "Sex has become a chore for me."

Jealousy flares in my gut, but I tamp it down and put on the practiced face of calm that I'm so skilled at wearing. "How so?"

He sighs, his hands gesturing, waving around aimlessly as he tries to find his words. "For years, it seemed like something was wrong with me. I wasn't interested, did it more out of obligation than anything else. I haven't…" He trails off, hesitation making him pause.

I prop up on my elbow and wait for him to catch my eyes. "There's no judgement here, Connor."

He nods again, chest rising with a deep breath. "I haven't gotten off from sex in years."

My mouth sags as I stare. "Like, at all? You just don't—"

"Finish? Yeah," he admits. "That's terrible, isn't it? To pretend—fake it—because it feels like I have to? That if I admit otherwise… what? My man card is taken away?"

"But last night…"

Fuck, if his soft smile doesn't kick me square in the heart. "Last night was the first time I'd felt like that in years… maybe ever. You…" He turns and looks at me, and I see it then—the pain in his eyes. "You just do it for me, I guess."

"Your type is stoic, broken boys with long hair, huh?"

His smile is so sad. "It would appear so." Thunder rumbles somewhere far-off, and Connor's eyes turn distant. "Let's go inside before we're drenched."

My fingers twitch at my side as we walk, longing to reach for his hand as we take the brief trip into the resort, but I have to respect this distance he's putting between us.

Even if I hate it.

We reach our room, and I spend a few minutes in the bathroom, cleaning myself up while giving my anxiety time to dispel. When I come out, Connor sits on the bed, head in his hands.

Defeated.

I deliberately thunk my hand against the door so he hears me coming, and I swear I see him wipe at his eyes as he sits up straighter, his back still to me. "Want to put on a movie?"

"Yeah, sure," he says, a quiet sniffle breaking my heart as he refuses to meet my eyes. "I'm going to get ready for bed while you search. Pick whatever." He pushes past me and locks himself in the bathroom.

Panic tries to close my throat, and I focus on the comforters, counting the stripes to distract my mind until I can breathe.

As I flip through the channels, I manage a weak smile when I stumble upon a movie that started only ten minutes ago. Connor comes out in nothing but a pair of shorts, and I can't help the way my eyes travel over his beautiful body. "What's Mean Girls?"

I force a small laugh, my arms crossed so I keep my hands to myself. "Another classic you've deprived yourself of." He smiles, a tiny, sad thing, and I hate the tension between us.

His indecisiveness is written all over his face, so I take matters into my own hands and drop onto my bed. It's the first time I've laid on it in a couple days, and he stares at me for a second before nodding to himself. "So, what did I miss?" he asks as he sits on his bed.

So far away.

Mechanically, I review the opening scenes of the movie, and a thick silence falls. Minutes tick by, and then the squeak of the mattress is my only warning before he slides in beside me. "Scoot over," he says, voice rough.

He curls up behind me as I create room for him, wrapping his arms around my waist and hugging me against him. His hand runs over my hair, smoothing it back, and my eyes close as he plants a kiss on the top of my head. "Connor," I whisper.

"I'm a grown ass man, Tai. If I want to make a terrible decision, nothing's going to fucking stop me."

"Is that what I am?" Tears prickle in my eyes again. "A terrible decision?"

He's quiet as another of those tiny sniffles sounds beside my ear. "It's always a bad decision to want what you can't have," he says, and I tuck myself deeper into his arms as the first tear slips loose, falling into my pillow where he can't see.