Chapter 5

For days, my best friend's claim that they both liked me kept bothering me. I couldn't settle down.

I'd meant to ask them on the hike, but then I'd hurt my ankle. The question stayed buried inside me, keeping me awake.

Then Connor came over with chicken soup.

Tall and lean in a black outdoor jacket, with his hair carefully styled, he somehow looked even better than the last time I'd seen him.

I looked into the container. The soup looked awful. Bits of burned onion floated on top. Whoever had made it clearly shouldn't have been allowed near a stove.

I fought down my nausea and looked up, meeting Connor's eyes.

He was watching me without blinking. He swallowed and seemed a little nervous.

I lowered my gaze and saw several blisters on the inside of his wrist. A ridiculous thought occurred to me.

“Connor, did you make this?”

“Are you kidding?”

He denied it immediately, looking at me and then quickly away. His face went bright red.

“My mom made it. She made me bring it over. I'm busy. I didn't even want to come.”

“When did you get so full of yourself, Nora?”

I felt ridiculous for thinking it too. Connor couldn't cook. I pressed my lips together and said nothing.

I tried a couple of spoonfuls. It tasted so bad I nearly threw up my breakfast.

He'd been watching from beside me. His expression darkened.

“Is it that bad?”

I nodded without thinking.

He looked even more upset and sank back into his chair, saying nothing.

I took the opportunity to breathe out slowly. I tried to sound casual.

“By the way, Connor, there's something I wanted to ask you.”

“What?” he said irritably.

I took another breath. “Do you... do you like me?”

He stared at me, his pale eyes widening. For half a second, he seemed to stop breathing.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

Only then did I get nervous. I gripped my spoon so tightly it dug into my palm.

The seconds dragged by. Neither of us moved.

Finally, Connor bent forward. His shoulders gave a small shake. Then he collapsed over the edge of the table, clutching his stomach and laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

When he looked up, there were tears in the corners of his eyes, as though he'd heard the funniest thing in his life.

“Nora, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Me? Like you? That's a sick joke. You seriously think I'd like you? Try looking in a mirror sometime.”

“I'm going to need therapy after this. Your confidence is honestly terrifying.”

“Let me make this clear. You could be the last woman on earth, and I still wouldn't want you.”

Something unfamiliar struck me in the chest. My heart seemed to sink lower and lower until it was hard to breathe.

I swallowed with difficulty, unable to think of anything to say.

Connor had been perfectly clear. He didn't like me.