𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇 // 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐨𝐧𝐞

THERE WERE SEVERAL THINGS that Connor Rhodes regretted. Not kissing Eila Chapman was one of them, and it was something that couldn't quite seem to leave his mind. Truth was, he could not get his mind off her — and it was a new feeling for the surgeon. Of course, he had been feeling the same way about Robin, but it could not compare to his feelings for Eila.

They never could.

As he sat on her couch, watching her move around the living room, re-arranging decorations, and humming Christmas songs, he found himself smiling. There was something about her peaceful demeanour that brought him to a certain peace too. However, he didn't notice how his gaze was locked on her until she giggled, pretending to toss something at him.

"You're staring."

Connor simply grinned in a response, figuring it was better not to say anything. She had caught him, how ( and why ) was he going to explain his way out of it? "It's peaceful, you know, watching you. I see how much you enjoy Christmas, and I can only hope I feel even half of what you're feeling about the holidays soon."

"It's even better when you get to spend it with people you truly care about," she smiled, pausing, almost seeming as if she held her breath for a second, avoiding Connor's gaze. "You know, such as you."

As if Connor's heart had not skipped a beat when he looked at her before, it must have gone into a complete cardiac arrest as the surgeon struggled to wrap his head around Eila's words. He drew a deep, shaky breath as he leaned back on the couch, keeping his blue eyes on Eila.

"I, uh—," Eila swallowed hard, avoiding Connor's blue eyes as she rushed towards the kitchen. "Do you want a beer?"

The surgeon didn't even have the chance to respond before she had returned, a beer in her hand, patiently waiting for him to take it. Reaching out, he wrapped his fingers around the cold glass-bottle, smiling gratefully at his neighbour. She always seemed to know what he needed, even in situations the two of them had just encountered. Truth was, Connor had never been a master of feelings, and just the past three weeks he had found himself dancing around the actual truth of what he was feeling.

               In many ways, you could say he was lying to himself about his feelings for Eila, something that had reached a point where he quite frankly was tormenting himself from the very inside of his own mind.

"Do you like sunsets?"

Eila raised an eyebrow as she heard his question, swallowing a mouthful of her beer. "What?"

Connor swallowed nervously, rubbing a sweaty palm against the rough fabric of his jeans. "You see, watching the sunset is a pretty spectacular thing. It's like saying goodbye to the sun, a way of saying 'I'll see you in the morning' — all the colours, the prettiest colours you can imagine, swirl together like a paint palette," he paused, noticing the puzzled look on Eila's face. "It's fleeting, yet angelic, as if they are celebrating your day, no matter how it went. I can see a patient die on my table, but the sunset is still so incredibly beautiful; it's still out there, celebrating that I got through yet another day. Sunsets are just — they're always there."

               "And this means what—?"

               "I don't know." Connor sighed, scratching his jaw. "I'm sorry. I'm nervous, and well — rambling."

               "What are you nervous about?"

                Connor froze. She had a point — what was he nervous about? He was a surgeon, who time and time again had risked his career due to a poor choice of words, especially when he meant it was the right choice of words. Why should he be sitting in front of her, afraid of admitting his feelings for her?

                I like you. A lot, actually.

               Come on, Connor. Don't be a wuss, just tell her how you feel, for God's sake.

               The surgeon didn't know how to express himself. Truth was, there were plenty of ways he could tell her his feelings, even without using those three words he nearly feared.

             Your presence has impacted me so deeply, I'm convinced if I never met you, I would permanently feel something missing from my life.

             You're my favorite. My favorite pair of eyes to look into, my favorite name to appear on my phone, my favorite way to spend an afternoon. You're my favorite everything.

            Yet Connor found himself, staring at the woman he loved, unable to speak — and God, how he hated it.