And it didn’t amount to anything.
Before that moment I always believed that heartbreak was a singular thing, something one person does to another. Perhaps to an onlooker, it was me that was breaking Connie’s heart at that moment, or maybe her breaking mine, but I knew that even heartbreak was something we shared. Her lip curled in and her eyes welled up and I had to look away, afraid that even then I would lose my resolve and try to embrace her, comfort her.
For the first time I thought I finally understand her shrewd caginess, so unlike my own. That obstinate pride that kept her from revealing her true self to anyone at all for fear of a rebuff.
I still refused to look at her when I finally brought myself to whisper; “Then…be with me.”
“Alex…”
I sucked in a deep breath and closed my eyes. “Connie—if you love me—if I asked you to be with me—to really be with me—would you do it? If we just said fuck it to the rumors and our reputations and everything else—”