Goodbye Yellow Brick Road ✔︎

30 | Too Much Thinking

Conner is squinting now, like I'm causing him pain.

He waves an impatient hand in an air-circle, encouraging me to keep talking. The hand I can't see returns to my waist, warm and encouraging.

"There are a lot of feelings I've been trying not to think about," I say. "But I'm going home in a couple of days and I'm going to see Glenn—I have to see him; he lives on our property—and I don't know what I'm going to say. I don't know what he's going to say to me."

Conner straightens, suddenly energized. "You know what? We'll wait until you get back from Virginia if that's what you want but I'm not going to worry about it, because I know what this is." He does the back-and-forth thing with his hand. "And I know fate's on my side."

He delivers the last line with an adorable smile. I shift myself around, so I'm straddling his lap. And I kiss him, partly because I don't want him to talk anymore and partly because I want him to be right.

His hands move to my cheeks, which I love because it's so endearing, so real. I find the hem of his shirt and lift—I need to feel his skin against mine. Like now. He takes over, pulls off his shirt and tosses it. Then he starts on the buttons of my blouse and leans down to kiss my collarbone, mumbling warm, undecipherable words against my skin.

I drop my arms and shimmy out of my blouse while Conner's hands slide past my waist and up my back, where he fumbles with the hook on my bra. And then my stupid phone rings.

It's not Megan's special ringtone, which means it could be anyone—like my aunt calling to tell me she's on her way home. Not that she ever does that.

But now the thought is there.

"Let me just..." I brace my hands against his beautiful chest while my feet find the floor. "I'll just check. To make sure..."

I pluck my phone out of my purse. Crap. "It's my dad. This is an odd time of day for him to be calling. I should probably..."

Conner nods, gets up and heads for the kitchen. I slide his shirt over my head before I unlock my phone. "Dad, hi. What's up?"

"Hi, sweetie. How are you?"

"I'm good," I say and Conner gives me a half smile that makes me blush.

"Good," Dad says. "I'm calling to let you know there's been a change in plans. Your grandmother called this morning. Pop is going in for surgery next Monday. It's nothing bad, everything is fine but..."

I loose track after "everything's fine" because Conner is staring into the refrigerator: one hand holding the open door, the other hooked around the back of his neck. His pants are sagging enough to show that super sexy muscle just below his hips.

"So that's the bottom line," Dad says.

"The bottom what?"

"I changed your flight reservation to December. Your mom and I will fly into New York next Wednesday. We're having Thanksgiving dinner with Emily's next-door neighbors. I'm looking forward to meeting Chase."

My parents are coming to New York. Okay. That's...not necessarily a bad thing.

"Oh," Dad says, "and Emily said another one of your other friends will be there, too. I can't remember his name."

"Conner Barlow?"

Conner turns his head, lifts his chin. He just told me two days ago that his parents were going to Arizona for Thanksgiving and he didn't want to break his practice routine so he was going stay here.

"Yes, that's it," Dad says. "Conner Barlow."

Mother of shit.

Conner reads my alarm. I wave him off, shaking my head like it's no big deal. But it definitely is. I'm not ready for my worlds to collide.