“You’re right,” somebody else chortled. “She’s all red now.”
More snickering.
A fork hit the table hard enough to snap silence around the group.
“And this is all funny how?” a deep, deep voice asked in a not so amused tone.
Hearing it was like feeling both the quenching relief of cold water on the hottest of days and like the tiniest pin popping an over inflated balloon.
My bubble of anger exploded. If there was red paint inside, splatter would be everywhere. And in the middle, clear as day, I would see Connor across the table from me. Staring my family down like he was both disgusted and angry.For me.
And while I was grateful there was still someone on my side, he couldn’t do that. It was bad enough that he’d shown up at this dinner out of the blue. Using his little sister as a guise to being‘coincidentally invited’, when really I could tell by the way he’d been staring me down from the moment he got here that he had somehow orchestrated himself here for me.
Of course my family didn’t mind, but I found that I minded. For the first time I minded, because I wasn’t feeling like myself and if I knew he was going to be here, I would have had time to get it together before I saw him. Instead, I was caught dumbfounded as I opened the door for him and Fergy standing there, learning that he was staying for dinner.
And now he was standing up for me at a table with my family?
He couldn’t do that. And not just because of this confusing feeling of safety he gave me, soothing the burning that had spread through my chest with his smooth, even voice. But because this was my family. It was funny to them because they knew me. They teased me because they knew I could take a joke, and now they were all looking at me expectantly because they knew I would never justlethim take up for me.
My chair screeched as I moved it away from the table. Without looking at Connor I spat out a quick, “None of your business, Ferguson,” before tossing my napkin onto my full plate and sweeping it out of the room.
It took me dumping my uneaten dinner, rinsing my plate and putting it away in the dishwasher for Connor to show up. When I saw him appear, I silently padded out of the room into the hallway, as far away from the dining room as we could be without being suspicious. In case someone came for me. As soon as we were safely tucked away, I whirled on him.
“Don’t do that,” I said as I met his eyes. Angry. I was angry at him for sure, but when I looked at him, this strange sense of homecoming overtook me instead. It was like the hustle of this past week had masked the fact that I missed him, and now that he was standing here in front of me without the barrier of my family around us, the longing was hitting me front and center. We rarely spent multiple days let alone an entire week without contacting each other. So the past week or so, with my phone broken and my schedule packed with failure after failure, was strange.
“What?” Connor asked. “Take up for you?”
“Feel sorry for me,” I corrected. “I can handle myself.”
“I’m well aware you can take care of yourself.But you weren’t, so I did,” he said, his face frowning as he looked me over. “I don’t mind handling a thing or two every once in a while, Cee.”
I bit my cheek. I was still irritated that he felt the need to speak for me but…but what was I supposed to say to that?No, don’t be sweet and get mad on my behalf?
Yeah, no. I couldn’t say that. So instead I just huffed, crossing my arms over my chest and looking away from him. He took a step toward me.
“You know, you’ve been such a little shit lately,” he said, sounding like he was just realizing this for himself.
My head whipped toward him so fast my neck hurt.
“Me?What’d I do!” I asked, genuinely surprised. Usually, I knew and agreed when I was being a little shit. But this was coming off of not seeing each other for a week. What could I have possibly done to deserve that?
He crossed big arms over his chest. “You seem to have lost your phone or my number, I’m not sure which.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?” He raised a thick eyebrow and for a second I thought he was pissed, but then he sighed. “Look, I get it. You were busy, but I was worried.”
“Sorry.”
“You should be. I had to weasel my way in here today just to see if you were alright.”
Holding my arms out at my sides, I gestured to myself with a little flourish. “You see me. I’m alright. Can we drop it?”
“Not quite alright,” he grumbled, looking me over. But when I gave him a questioning look he dismissed it and stepped forward, still frowning. “You know how antsy I get when you stop answering out of the blue.”
I did know. It was a side effect of his sister going silent on him for five years and it was something he told me quickly after we started hanging out. He had said something about liking my text back speed and I had scoffed, telling him not to flatter himself, that I was just free and it wasn't like I was waiting around for him. Going serious, he told me that it had nothing to do with him or me being available to him, but just that you never knew when someone would stop answering for good, so he just appreciated that I kept him in the loop.
Now, even knowing this, I still couldn’t stop myself from pouting as I yanked my gaze away from him again. “So?”
