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Except<\/h3>\n
Later that night, Connor lay sprawled on the couch with SportsCenter blaring, scrolling his phone. I sat at the kitchen table, tapping my pen against an empty page in my notebook and contemplating running as my Object of Devotion. I couldn\u2019t muster the blood and guts to put it to paper. I liked running. It served a purpose, but did I want to make it my life?<\/p>\n
\u201cOh shit,\u201d Connor cried from behind me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI accidentally texted her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho?\u201d I said, knowing damn well who.<\/p>\n
\u201cAutumn. I was fucking messing around and I hit that stupid predictive text thing, then panicked and hit send.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t text or call a girl until at least<\/em> three days have passed.\u201d<\/p>\nI set down my pen and turned around. \u201cAre you serious?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course I\u2019m serious. It looks desperate to text her the same day.<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\nI hid a smile. \u201cWhat did you text?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust \u2018yes\u2019.\u201d His eyes widened. \u201cShit. She\u2019s texting me back.\u201d<\/p>\n
Connor jumped up from the couch and came to where I sat, standing next to my chair as we both watched his phone.<\/p>\n
Yes\u2026? <\/strong>J<\/strong><\/p>\nConnor typed, Hey<\/strong>.<\/p>\nI smirked. \u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, so?\u201d<\/p>\n
A pause, then a new text bubbled up. What\u2019s up?<\/strong><\/p>\n\u201cNow she\u2019s annoyed,\u201d I said. \u201cOr impatient.\u201d<\/p>\n
Connor looked to me. \u201cWhat do I say?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy are you asking me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re good at this shit. How many papers did you write for me at Sinclair?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is not<\/em> the same thing.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cBallpark.\u201d Connor made a face. \u201cDude, she\u2019s waiting.\u201d<\/p>\n
I frowned, thought for a moment. \u201cTell her the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHell no\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTell her the truth but make it better. Tell her you were messing with your phone while thinking about her. Tell her that you wanted to talk to her so badly, your subconscious made it happen.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, that\u2019s good.\u201d<\/p>\n
Connor\u2019s fingers flew, and then he hit send.<\/p>\n
There was a pause and no answer.<\/p>\n
Connor frowned. \u201cWhat\u2019s this mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s good. I mean she\u2019s thinking about what you said.\u201d<\/p>\n
The rolling dots of Autumn\u2019s reply came in.<\/p>\n
The old \u2018accidental text\u2019 move? I feel like I\u2019ve seen that before\u2026;-)<\/strong><\/p>\n\u201cShe\u2019s not letting you off the hook so easily,\u201d I said, smiling despite myself. \u201cDon\u2019t deny. Tell her she\u2019s one hundred percent right. You\u2019ll make any excuse to talk to her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s perfect, man.\u201d<\/p>\n
Connor typed and hit send.<\/p>\n
I like your honesty, <\/strong>came the reply.<\/p>\n\u201cHey, it\u2019s working.\u201d Connor beamed. \u201cNow what?\u201d<\/p>\n
It was working, and I didn\u2019t like what it <\/em>was.<\/p>\n\u201cI don\u2019t know, man,\u201d I said, waving a hand. \u201cType something. Whatever you\u2019re thinking.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI want her to go out with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen ask.\u201d<\/p>\n
With a horrible fascination, I watched Connor type, So, dinner?<\/strong><\/p>\n\u201cJesus, dude,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat? That\u2019s exactly what you told me to do.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot like that,\u201d I said. \u201cI told you she needs romance.\u201d<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t know<\/strong>, she wrote. I have so much work to do already.<\/strong><\/p>\n\u201cFuck,\u201d Connor said. He nudged me with his phone. \u201cWes, man, you do it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I blinked. \u201cDo what now?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAsk her out for me. The right way.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared.<\/p>\n
\u201cLook, this girl is special. I\u2019m not too proud to admit I need back-up getting things rolling with her.\u201d He grinned that winning smile. \u201cC\u2019mon. Just this once.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Connor shoved his phone into my hand. \u201cCome on, man. Do what you do. Write something witty and poetic. Something that\u2019ll impress her enough to get me another text. Another\u2026anything.\u201d He clapped me on the shoulder. \u201cWrite something that knocks her on her ass and gets me in the door. That\u2019s all I ask.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at Connor’s phone in my hand and Autumn Caldwell\u2019s text, waiting for an answer. I felt my best friend\u2019s expectations literally breathing down my neck as he leaned over me.<\/p>\n
Ignoring the small ache in my heart, I thought about what I would\u2019ve said to Autumn had it been my phone in my hand, and began to type.<\/p>\n
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Emma Scott is a bestselling author of emotional, character-driven romances in which art and love intertwine to heal, and in which love always wins. If you enjoy thoughtful, realistic stories with diverse characters and kind-hearted heroes, you will enjoy my novels.<\/p>\n
NEWSLETTER<\/a> | FACEBOOK<\/a> | WEBSITE<\/a> | TWITTER<\/a> | INSTAGRAM<\/a> | FACEBOOK READER GROUP<\/a> | AMAZON PAGE<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Sinopse Synopsis Eu me apaixonei por Connor Drake. Eu n\u00e3o queria; eu lutei contra, mas mesmo assim me apaixonei. Com suas palavras. Sua poesia. Com ele. A gentileza e beleza de sua alma falam diretamente com a minha. Ele escreve como se ele pudesse sentir meu cora\u00e7\u00e3o, escutar sua cad\u00eancia e compor a letra…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-348","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.twobooksinashelf.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/348","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.twobooksinashelf.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.twobooksinashelf.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.twobooksinashelf.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.twobooksinashelf.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=348"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.twobooksinashelf.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/348\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":349,"href":"https:\/\/www.twobooksinashelf.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/348\/revisions\/349"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.twobooksinashelf.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=348"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.twobooksinashelf.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=348"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.twobooksinashelf.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=348"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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