FINDING 12 | BOYS OF TOMMEN

jealousy?

October 12th 2001

I watched them closely, the way Connor leaned into her laugh, his body language far too relaxed. The brunette, Kelly, kept giggling at everything he said, her hand lightly brushing his arm with each laugh. It wasn't a casual, friendly touch—it lingered, like she was claiming a part of him.

Every flirtatious giggle and lingering touch made my chest tighten. It wasn't that I didn't trust Connor—I'd never seen him act this way with anyone else before—but something about this felt wrong. Their connection was undeniable, and it was like they had their own private joke, completely lost in each other's company. A knot formed in my stomach, jealousy rising like bile in my throat.

Without thinking, I was on my feet, my heart pounding faster with each step as I crossed the room toward them.

"Be right back," I muttered to Eloise, my voice sharper than I intended. She gave me a concerned look, but nodded, not saying anything.

As I moved through the crowded room, I could feel the heat rising in my face, my pulse quickening with every step. I kept my eyes locked on them, noticing the way Kelly's hand lingered just a second too long on his arm, her laugh a little too enthusiastic. It made me sick.

When I finally reached them, I forced a smile, though my voice was tight. "Hey, Connor," I said, stepping right up to his side. "Who's your friend?"

Connor looked over at me, his usual charming grin flashing across his face as he pulled me in by the waist. But something in his eyes didn't sit right with me—it was as if he was putting on a show. "Babe, this is Kelly," he said, glancing toward the girl. "She's just a friend from class. No big deal."

Kelly turned to me with a smile that was anything but genuine. Her eyes flicked up and down, sizing me up. "Yeah, we go way back," she said, her voice sickly sweet.

My instincts screamed at me, every alarm bell ringing. "Way back, huh?" I forced a laugh, trying to act casual, but I could feel the tightness in my chest. "You two seem pretty close."

Connor's arm tightened around my waist, his grip suddenly a little too firm, almost possessive. He shot a quick glance at Kelly, then back at me. "Babe," he said with a slightly mocking tone, "are you jealous?" His words were light, but there was an edge to them that made my skin prickle.

"No, I'm not jealous," I snapped, but my heart was racing, and I could already feel myself second-guessing. Was I overreacting? Was this all in my head?

Kelly, still standing way too close for my liking, let out a small, condescending laugh. "It's really no big deal," she said, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Connor and I just have a lot of history. But don't worry, you have nothing to be jealous of."

Her words were like salt in a wound. I didn't need her reassurance, especially not with that smug tone. I glanced at Connor, waiting for him to say something—anything—to shut this down, but he just smiled, like this whole situation was amusing to him.

"You're being paranoid," Connor finally said, his voice soft but dismissive. "Come on, babe. It's nothing. Don't get worked up over something so stupid." He kissed the side of my head, but the gesture felt empty, like a band-aid for a much deeper wound.

I tried to push the doubt away, but it was clawing at me, making it hard to think straight. "It doesn't feel like nothing," I muttered, my voice softer now, but I couldn't keep the frustration out of it.

Connor sighed, like I was being difficult. "Look, I get it. You're tense." His tone shifted, trying to soothe me, but it came off patronizing. "Let me get you a drink, alright? You need to relax."

I hesitated, glancing between him and Kelly, who was now busying herself with her phone like she wasn't listening to every word. "Fine," I mumbled. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe a drink would help take the edge off.

Connor flashed me a smile before heading toward the drinks table. I stood there awkwardly, my eyes darting between Kelly and the crowd, feeling the weight of my jealousy still gnawing at me. A few minutes later, he returned with a cup in hand.

"Here you go," he said, pressing the drink into my palm, his voice back to its usual smooth tone. "Let's just enjoy the party, alright?"

I took a sip, trying to calm the storm brewing inside me. The drink tasted a little off—bitter, almost metallic—but I ignored it, taking another sip, hoping it would help me shake the weird tension that had settled over me.

Connor stayed close, chatting casually as if nothing had happened, but the longer I stood there, the more I realized something wasn't right. My head felt heavy, and my vision blurred at the edges. I blinked hard, trying to clear it, but the fuzziness only seemed to get worse.

"Connor..." I mumbled, the words feeling thick on my tongue. "I don't feel good..."

Connor turned to me, his face blurry, but there was an unsettling calmness in his voice. "You're fine, babe," he said smoothly, his hand brushing down my arm. "You've probably just had a bit too much to drink."

I wanted to argue, to tell him this was different, but I couldn't. The words wouldn't come out. Everything around me seemed to slow down, the music fading into the background as the room started to spin. I reached out to steady myself, but my legs felt weak, my balance slipping.

Connor's arm wrapped around me, holding me up. "Come on, let's get you upstairs," he said softly, his voice too calm, too practiced. "You just need to lie down for a bit."

Panic surged through me, but my body wasn't cooperating. Everything felt heavy, my thoughts swirling and slipping away from me. I tried to protest, to tell him something was wrong, but the words were lost as my world faded into a thick, disorienting haze.

Something was terribly wrong.