Page 26 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

They say bad things come in threes. Connor and I are falling apart. My mom tore through my new life like a tornado. And now, I’ve come down with the virus from hell during finals week. Two of my finals are online, thankfully, but the third I have to take on campus.

Depending on who’s on babysitting duty, Connor, Izzy, or Livy help me wake up, coax some medicine, food, and hydration into my body, and help me log in to my finals.

I’m not so sick I can’t type in a username and password, but I’m disoriented enough I’m terrified to make a mistake and fail a test from a dumb error.

While I’m sure there are options for me if I don’t get good grades this semester, the future I want rests on these three exams. I’m already near the top of my class, so if I ace my finals, I’ll have one of the first picks for internships. And the internship I want is highly coveted amongst my classmates.

I’ve worked too hard for too long to fumble at the finish line and lose my advantage.

Despite my mind wading through split pea soup, I manage to get an A on one online final, and a B on the other leaving me with A’s in both classes.

The morning of my in-person final, everything goes to shit.

Connor offered to drive me to Greeley last night and get a hotel so I could get extra sleep before heading to campus. I said no, because he’s been doing so much for me already. I hate feeling helpless and weak, and this virus is kicking my ass.

I figured, I’ve already been sick for days, I have to start feeling better soon. Greeley’s a three-hour drive, but my exam is early afternoon, so I planned on waking up early, taking my time getting ready, and studying in the car.

The virus had other plans. Connor got called in for overtime last night but promised to drive me to Greeley as soon as he got home. And because this virus has turned my brain into Swiss cheese, and the nighttime cold medicine I took, I must’ve forgotten to set my alarm.

“Shit! Delilah, you’ve got to wake up.” I’m jostled awake by a frantic Connor.

“Wh-what time is it?” I ask.

“It’s after nine. I’ve been texting and calling you for hours trying to tell you I’d be home late, and we’d need to hit the road as soon as I got here. At this point we’ll barely make it in time for your final.”

I shoot up in bed, my head punishing me with brutal throbbing. “Oh my god! We have to go!” I throw off the blankets, but Connor gently holds me down by my shoulders.

“Doll, you’ve gotta re-schedule your final. You can’t take the test like this.”

My head tremors back and forth, “No. No, no, no. Not this final. The professor was clear there would be no exceptions.” I nervously fiddle with my sun necklace, the familiar warmth from the metal calming me a fraction.

Connor’s strong jaw ticks, displeased with my reality, but relents. “Alright. Get dressed and I’ll put together some breakfast and lunch for the road.” He helps me from bed and waits until I’m stable on my feet before rushing out of the room.

This can’t be happening. I’m so close to getting my internship I can taste it.

The tired, hopeless side of me says there’s no point in rushing because I’m going to bomb the test anyway. But the tiny ember in my heart that’s never been extinguished—no matter how hard my life has gotten—pushes me to throw on a pair of yoga pants, a sports bra under my favorite of Connor’s hoodies I stole years ago and twist my hair into a messy top knot.

I’m slipping my shoes on when Connor tears into our bedroom ripping his clothes off. I freeze, both stunned and ecstatic at the scene before me.

“Let me change and we can go,” he rushes out.

Healthy, functioning Delilah would’ve left the room immediately and pretended not to have seen his bare chest and boxer briefs slung indecently low on his hip bones.

But cold medicine-high, deliriously tired Delilah stands here like a drooling idiot and watches her best friend strip naked before getting re-dressed all too soon. His impressive cock disappears into his underwear just as he turns to face me.

Dear. Sweet. Baby. Jesus. That was Connor’s penis. My best friend’s dick.

How does he walk with that thing hanging between his legs?

I’ve always assumed he was well-endowed based on years of gym shorts and swim trunks. But nothing could’ve prepared me for that.

“Fuck! You scared the shit out of me! I thought you went into the living room!” Connor exclaims as he turns back away from me, frantically pulling on jeans and concealing his little—huge—secret.

I still haven’t moved from my spot in the bedroom, so I have an up-close and personal view of the flush creeping up Connor’s neck and onto his handsome face.

His embarrassment triggers my own and I trip over myself rushing from the bedroom. I can never unsee that. How will he ever look at me the same? I manage to pack my bag and gather the lunchbox and drinks Connor prepared for us.

He emerges from our room with a baseball cap low over his brows, hunched over on himself, trying to be invisible. He swipes his phone and keys from the kitchen counter and silently ushers me to the door.