Page 71 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

But he remembers.

He pauses and I think he’s finished confessing, but he takes me by the hands and interlaces our fingers, his aura darkening.

“I was yours when I nearly beat Peter Rickard to death when I found out he’d taken your virginity.” Rage and sorrow seep from his pores.

But why? Because I didn’t give myself to Connor? He’d already had sex by then and I was convinced he didn’t see me that way after the kiss that “never was.”

“I was yours when I broke all ten of Robby Thompson’s fingers after he dared to touch your naked body. He’s lucky I didn’t break his tiny dick too.” Connor’s seething.

My mind’s spinning with his confessions, putting together missing pieces from the puzzle of my life.

It’s impossible he’s felt the way I have all these years.

How much time have we wasted lying to ourselves that we were just friends? It makes me ill with grief for the life we could’ve had together.

Connor composes himself and kisses the tip of my nose.

“I was yours yesterday, and every day before. I’ll be yours every day my heart is still beating. I’ll be yours if there’s an afterlife, and in every future life and universe for eternity.”

He presses a soft kiss to my parted lips and wipes the tears trickling down my cheeks.

His eyes soften and his voice wraps around my heart with the unadulterated adoration with which he says, “I’m hopelessly in love with you. I have been since before I understood what it meant. I’ll die from a broken heart if I wake up and this was all a dream.”

I shake my head furiously, gazing up through tears at the man I’ve always loved.

Sweet kisses punctuate each word as he says, “I”—kiss—“am”—kiss—“yours.”

We stand in silence, holding on to each other for dear life. The final boundary between us obliterated. His eyes search mine quiet and pleading, begging me to feel the same.

He’s laid himself bare and I haven’t managed to say a single word. I wipe my eyes and pull myself together enough for the truth to rise from my battered heart.

“All this time. We could’ve been together all this time. For every moment you’ve been mine, I’ve been yours. Every breath I’ve breathed has been for you. My heart has always beat in time with yours.

“I wanted all those memories to be with you. Every year I wished you’d ask me to the school dances. I wanted you to be my first time…but you’d already given yours away, so I settled. I only dated other guys because I couldn’t have you. You always had another girl on your arm, stealing the attention I was desperate for.”

Tears stream down my face unbidden.

“Why?” I barely croak. “Why didn’t you ever choose me?”

I’m just as guilty. I never made a move either.

Torment radiates from him. Regret, frustration, confusion, and grief mingling.

“I thought my feelings for you were plain as day, and I wasn’t what you wanted. Having you as my best friend had to be enough, since I couldn’t have all of you,” Connor admits.

He links his pinky with mine and leads me to sit on our couch. He turns to face me, one arm slung over the back of the sofa, fingers gently playing with the ends of my hair.

“I was scared. The way I wanted you was ugly and all-consuming. You were so good, and pure. I thought there was no way you’d want me. If I acted on my desires and you didn’t want me, or I fucked things up and hurt you…it was too big of a risk.

“I fell into the same safety net I think you did. Having you as my friend was better than not having you at all, and I promised myself I’d never do anything to jeopardize our friendship.”

Connor patiently waits for me to say something—anything, but I can’t.

He continues. “I was stupid. I tried distracting myself with other girls, that’s true, and I’m so fucking sorry I hurt you. I never would’ve touched another girl if I knew you wanted me. I honestly don’t know how you sat by and watched me be such an idiot. I nearly went to jail each time I found out another man touched you. I couldn’t handle it.”

My best friend pours his heart into my hands. He’s completely transparent, releasing a flood of pent-up sadness, disappointment, and anger from years of denying his feelings.

“If I knew you wanted me to be your first time, I would’ve waited forever.” He tugs on his hair, visibly distraught.