Our Secret Moments (Drayton Hills Series)

“ARE YOU CRYING RIGHT NOW?”

Wes turns to me, crumbs of popcorn falling down his chin. His face is completely red after rolling around for the last god knows how long as he pauses the credits to the fifth movie we’ve watched. I put one on as a treat since I managed to get through some more questions that Cat sent for me and I am strangely obsessed.

Since Wes’s advice with Cat last time somehow managed to work, I’ve decided to give him another chance. Which means sitting through a bunch of rom-coms back to back with a selection of candy, a blanket and popcorn spread around us. By the time the second movie finished, I couldn’t help it anymore and I told him everything from the night in the Manifestation Chamber to the day in the gym. As much as he’s a pain in my ass, he’s my best friend and if I kept our secret any longer, I think I would burst into flames.

I swipe my face with the back of my sweater. “We just watched one of the greatest movies to ever exist. Why aren’t you crying?”

Wes glances over at me, grinning ear to ear. “You’re a big baby, Connie boy. All this for Catherine Fables,” he says, gesturing to the mess we’ve made. He shakes his head with a disbelieving chuckle. “She’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’d do anything for her,” I murmur, resting my head back against the couch. I don’t think I fully register the weight of my words until they’re out of my mouth. All I know is that it’s true. So true that it scares me a little how one person can take up every thought in my brain, make every song somehow feel like her and have my days jumbled because I feel like I exist solely for the purpose of waiting for her.

“Yeah?” Wes asks, pushing himself up against the couch next to me.

“I’d give her anything she wants. Every part of me. If she asked me to move the fucking world, I’d do it,” I say, my chest aching just at the thought.

“Are you drunk?” I try to search for the joke in his question, but he sounds so serious. Too serious.

I shake my head. “Of course I’m not.”

“You’re that whipped, huh?”

“I’m fucking obsessed, Wes. Something’s wrong with me, I swear,” I admit, rubbing my hands across my face. If watching rom-coms back to back all day with your best friend just to impress a girl doesn’t show how down I am for her, I don’t know what will.

They say that when you know, you know. I think I’ve always known how much I cared for Catherine from the second I laid my eyes on her. There’s never been anyone else for me. Even if it took her fucking years to notice me too, it’s all worth it. If I just get to hold her, to listen to her, to talk to her even for a minute, I’ll be the happiest man on the planet.

“The crazy thing is,” Wes says. Just from the tone of his voice, I know he’s about to talk shit. “You haven’t even slept together and she’s already got you this fucked up. I bet your wrist is sore, though.”

I elbow him in the ribs. “You’re disgusting,” I mutter before reaching over to grab my phone. I’ve kept it silent whilst we watched the movie so I wouldn’t get distracted. Retaining information hasn’t exactly been my forte, but I’m trying.

When my eyes focus on my phone screen, I see over twenty texts for Cat and my heart drops straight through my ribs.

KIT-CAT

I’ll be at the silent study in Grand.

Bring ur own snacks. I don’t share.

Okay. I get it. That was kinda mean.

I’m going to stab myself in the eye with my pen. This shit is ridiculous.

I thought u were a great study buddy, connie???

I’m going to take a cat nap.

Get it?? Cuz my name…

Anyway. Wake me up when u get here.

I’m still waiting, Connor.

The messages start from six-thirty this morning until… How the fuck is it ten-thirty at night? Jesus. Sweat begins to gather at the back of my neck, my legs wobbling when I get to my feet, kicking over the popcorn bag that Wes and I shared.

I’m such an idiot.

“Fuck, Wes,” I shout, pushing my hand through my messy hair. “I was meant to meet Cat two hours ago. Why didn’t you tell me what time it was?”

Wes blinks at me, spluttering. “Woah, wait. How is this my fault? You have eyes and a brain too. There’s literally a clock right there!”

He points at the brown broken clock hanging on one of the shelves in our lounge. “That clock has been broken since we moved in, you imbecile,” I mutter, shoving as much shit into my bag as possible, zipping it up and swinging it over my shoulder.

“It has?” he asks. I just stare at him, wishing my eyes could somehow eliminate the sheer stupidity in his brain. “I thought I was just lucky that whenever I walked in here it was always one-thirty-two.”

“You’re an idiot,” I mutter before slamming the door.

I hightail it through campus, my heartbeat roaring in my ears as I try to get to her in record speed. I’m fast on the pitch, but with everyone now leaving ready to go out to a party, doors are swinging open in my way as sophomores rush past me like their life depends on it, it’s a fucking task.

I shouldn’t have gotten too caught up in those movies.

I shouldn’t have let Wes play more and more when I couldn’t get enough.

I should have checked my phone like a normal fucking person and got to her when she needed me, not hours later when she should have gone back to her dorm. Half of me is not even expecting her to still be there, but by the time I enter the dark and deserted library, she’s tucked away in a corner, her head dropped on the table, sheets spread out everywhere.

I rush over to her, tripping over myself as my heartbeat refuses to settle. I manage to make it to the seat next to her, pushing her bag onto the table as I kneel beside her. Her dark braids sweep down her back and in her face, fanning around her as she stirs, twisting her head to face me as I stroke my hand against her knee.

“Cat,” I whisper, not knowing why I’m trying to keep quiet when there’s no one in here. She doesn’t move, but her face twists slightly, nuzzling her cheek further into her forearm. I shake her forearm, trying to gently wake her, whispering her name again.

After a few more tries and when my breathing starts to finally settle, her eyes start fluttering open slightly. I let out a breath of relief. Her eyes are red, tired orbs that are being forced to stay open. She weakly lifts her head off the table, just enough to rest it back down on her forearms, blinking at me as I lean my head down to look at her properly.

I swipe one of her braids out of her eye, tucking it behind her ear. She’s so fucking pretty it hurts. “Baby,” I mutter, stroking my thumb on her cheek. She doesn’t say anything other than a small intangible mumble that tugs at my heart. “Fuck, Cat. I’m so sorry.”

She looks up at me then, her head stronger as I move my hand, smoothing it down her back. The glimmer in her eyes sends a wave of hurt straight through my body. A slight frown tugs at her lips as she looks up at me sleepily.

“You’re late,” she mumbles.

The two simple words almost knock the wind right out of me. “I know. I’m sorry,” I say again, but the words don’t seem to change the look in her eyes. She looks like one of those people who have heard those two words strung together too many times for it to mean anything. When I say them – which I vow to her from now on will be rare – it will mean something, because I never want her to get to the point with me where my apologies don’t mean anything. “How long have you been waiting, sweetheart?”

She finally gains the strength to lean against the back of the chair, pushing her braids over her shoulder whilst I stay at her feet. “I’ve been up since six,” she replies before yawning, rubbing her hand across her mouth. I stroke the inside of her thigh with my thumb again, waiting for her to give me more than that. “But I’ve been here since twelve.”

“It’s ten pm, Cat,” I say shakily, knowing this is completely my fault. Her head lolls back on the seat, blinking up at the ceiling, avoiding me. I look around at the mess on the table — papers, an empty salad box, two water bottles, her laptop and an iPad. “Have you eaten anything? Or left this seat at all?”

She swallows. “I had lunch after I finished writing the section on the team’s training schedule. Since then, I’ve just been here.”

“Catherine, you can’t just survive off a salad from the cafeteria when you’re studying all day. You need breaks,” I say gently, squeezing her thigh, needing her to look at me better, needing her to listen to me.

“I thought you were coming, so I was going to wait until we had dinner,” she says. She finally looks down at me now and it feels like a punch straight to my gut. Her bottom lip quivers that it physically hurts to look at her. “You’re late, Connor. You forgot.”

I swallow back the emotion in my throat until I can feel it low in my stomach, feeling like an absolute prick. I stand to my feet and start collecting her papers into neat colour coordinated piles. “Come on. I’m going to get you some food, take you home and you’re going to get some real sleep, okay? No more studying.”

“No more studying,” she repeats, nodding at me, a loopy grin on her face.

I feel like even more of a dick the whole time I walk her to my car in the parking lot outside my dorm and drive her to the nearest Taco Bell. She doesn’t say anything the whole time. I ordered her usual, and she thanked me quietly and then ate in silence as we waited in the parking lot. Even when we walked back up to her dorm, she didn’t say anything to me as she kept her eyes on the ground, her fingers twisting inside the fabric of her sweater.

I don’t hear a word from her until I walk her to her bedroom, shut the door behind me and go to turn on the light.

“No, don’t turn on the light,” she mutters, moving closer to me next to the wall. She peers up at me, those gorgeous eyes blinking up at me, and I swear my heart stops and restarts again. I nod, listening and moving my hand from the switch.

“Come here, Catherine,” I murmur, tugging on her sweater and pulling her into me. “Can you look at me? Please.” She holds my gaze then, finally. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

She shakes her head immediately. “Nothing,” she whispers, “I just need to go to sleep. I’m tired, Connor.” I nod and she turns around, walking towards her bedside table. I stay glued to my spot, watching as she picks up her clothes from the drawer.

Before I can even turn around, she slowly pulls off her sweater, her back still to me as she drops the fabric to the floor.

Holy fuck. There’s too much skin –  long expanses of smooth, dark brown skin and no bra to restrict her. Her braids fall down to her ass and I don’t get a second before she shimmies off her pants, seamlessly pulling on an oversized shirt and covering her panties with shorts.

When she moves to her bed, still staying silent, I clear my throat, needing to give myself an out. “I guess I’ll just…” I clear my throat, again, because she looks up at me with those innocent doe eyes the second she slips under the covers and I just want to shred the distance between us and take her in my arms. I can’t tell if she’s mad at me or not and I want to give her the space to figure that out. “I’ll go. I’m sorry again, Cat.”

I don’t wait for her response as I turn around, muttering to myself about how stupid I am to have messed up what was supposed to be an easy study date.

I can’t even have a normal conversation with someone, never mind trying to hold my fort in an official NFL interview. If I keep doing stupid shit like this I’m never going to make it. I’m going to flunk out of school, move back in with my parents, turn into one of those people who—

“Stay.”

I turn around and blink back at her in the darkness. Her covers are tucked under her armpits, her hands twisting together on top of her stomach. “What?”

“Don’t go yet. Stay with me until I fall asleep. I’ll sleep better if you’re with me. Please, Connie,” she murmurs.

The helplessness in her voice has my feet moving before my brain can fully process it. I take off my shoes, slide into the bed beside her as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. I curl my arms around her, pulling her close to me. The fresh smell of her immediately calms me. When my erratic heartbeat starts to settle, I notice that she’s relaxed into me completely and I think for a second that she’s fallen asleep until she twists in my arms, resting one hand beneath her head as she studies me.

“Can I ask you something?” she whispers.

“Of course,” I say, swallowing, “Anything.”

“Why did you forget me today?” she asks, her voice quiet and desperate.

“Jesus, Cat, don’t say it like that,” I mutter, stroking my thumb against her collarbone. She drops her gaze to the comforter between us. “I was watching a movie and I lost track of time.”

“I don’t believe you,” she mumbles.

“Well, you should.”

“Why?”

“Because I was watching it for you,” I admit, my face heating up just at the thought of it. I’ve never done that for another person before, but for some reason Wes’s advice seems to be working and there’s nothing that I want more than for Cat to see me as more than her best friend’s brother who has a painful crush on her. “I wanted to impress you, so we could have something more to talk about.”

A disbelieving laugh leaves her mouth, shaking her head as she continues staring at me, her eyes tracing patterns across my face. “We always have something to talk about, Connor.”

“I know, but I wanted something just for us, you know. Something special,” I say into the space between us. I inch closer to her, pushing her body closer to mine until her hands find their way in my hair. I kiss the top of her nose and she scrunches it automatically, giggling as she pushes my face away from her.

“What movie did you watch?” she asks.

“I watched at least six. You could’ve told me how addicting they are, jeez,” I mutter, “Ten Things I Hate About You was my favourite, though.”

Her eyes light up, a child-like excitement taking over her whole face as her hands tighten at the nape of my neck. “That’s a good one,” she says through a giggle. The way her mind works, the way her mood changes from this happy sunshiny person to someone who looks like she’s lived an abundance of lives and is stuck in the one that wears her out the most, as if she’s simply existing. “My mom named me after Catherine Earnshaw. You know, the novel by Emily Bronte. She loved Virginia Woolf, too. She loved reading the letters between her and Vita Sackville-West. I think that’s what made her believe in love most.”

Her rambling is adorable. She gives me these little pockets of information, tiny pieces of herself that I just want to treasure forever. She doesn’t talk about her mom a lot. When she does, she gets this passive, longing look on her face and my soul aches to take away her pain. To take away the suffering she had from so young. I don’t even say anything for a while, taking in her quiet and sweet voice.  “I know it’s a book,” I say through a laugh.

She pokes me in the cheek. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Did you want me to?”

She shakes her head lightly. “I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Sometimes, I just like telling you things.”

“And I like listening.”

“Yeah?” Her tone is slightly apprehensive. I bring my hand to the side of her face, stroking my thumb over her cheek and she nestles into my palm, closing her eyes.

“I could listen to you talk all day, Cat, and I don’t think I’d ever get bored.”

“Do you really mean that?”

I swallow, my words shaky as I say, “I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure of anything in my life. When you talk to me, everything goes quiet. The noise in my head doesn’t exist anymore and it’s just… You.”

She scoffs, opening her eyes to meet my determined gaze. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“You—”

“We could do this all night, sweetheart,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead and she softens beneath me. “You’ve got to stop doing that thing where you don’t let good things happen to you because you’re scared.”

Her eyebrows pinch. “I’m not doing that,” she whispers. Her voice lacks the conviction I would need to see she’s telling the truth. She’s a shit liar.

“You’re not?” I mock. She shakes her head. “Then let me be good to you. Let me be good for you, Cat. I know I messed up today, but I won’t do anything like that again. I would never leave you alone like that.”

“Okay,” she says. I press my forehead to hers, taking in a deep breath. “I really like you, Connor, like… a lot. And I don’t ever want to feel like I did earlier. Like you forgot about me. Like I didn’t matter to you.”

“I like you too, Catherine,” I whisper, pressing my lips to her forehead, sealing the moment. “So fucking much. You mean more to me than either of us could ever comprehend.”

The small smile that forms on her lips at my words is all I need for the rest of my life. Even when she’s finally fast asleep and I force myself to slip out of her bed, I still have that warm, fuzzy feeling weighing on my chest, just knowing that I have her through everything.

“Fuck!” I whisper-shout when I bump into my sister on my way out of their dorm. Shit. Shit. Shit. Nora rubs at her eye, her slippers with dog ears flopping on the floor as she squints at me.

“Connor? What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice heavy with sleep. Jesus, I don’t even know what time it is. I swear time just doesn’t exist when she’s around. It’s been that way since the day I met her.

“Uh, Cat passed out in the library, so I brought her back. She’s exhausted. I must have fallen asleep,” I explain, only half-lying.

Nora’s eyes soften. “Oh… Did she say anything to you? She was off this morning and I’m a little worried.”

My heart sinks. “No, she didn’t. Why?”

She glances back to Cat’s closed door and then to the bottle of water in her hands. “Her mom’s anniversary is coming up soon, so I know next week is going to be hard for her. So, if you see her around, just be nice, okay?

“I’m always nice to her,” I mutter.

She lets out a scoff, shaking her head. “Yeah,” she laughs, but I’m not laughing. She rolls her eyes before pushing past me. “Okay. Whatever. Just go home.”