\\Connor//

Dinner and School

Dinner with Connor was great. My mom liked him, he liked my mom. He helped her clean up the dishes. It was a good time. What's strange though is that I feel it went very well, and that my mother likes him when I'm not even dating him. We aren't even really friends, yet I hope he makes a good impression on her.

She thinks he's cute. She told me. She told me that I haven't had a romance in so long that she's going to try to set me and Connor up. She told me to bring him around after school. I planned on asking him to come over in Algebra class, but when I got there he wasn't there. Figures.

"Have you seen Connor?" I asked the girls I hang out with at lunch. They laughed.

"That freak? No. We haven't seen it today," she answered. I felt my face curl into a scowl.

"What's your problem with him?" I shouted. A few other heads at lunch turned to look at me. "What did he do to you?"

"Oh," she giggled, "you haven't heard? You didn't hear about what it did? You'll find out soon enough if you keep looking for it."

I stood and walked away. I wouldn't stay to hear false rumors about a nice boy like Connor.

-

The day ended and I walked home. At the halfway point I hear footsteps coming after me.

"Dakota!" a voice shouted, "Dakota, wait!" It was Connor.

"Hey!" I shriek over enthusiastically. "I was looking for you today, but I missed you. Where'd you go?"

He shrugged. "Sorry, I had a doctor's appointment. My mom had to drive me."

"Are you okay? You aren't sick, right? I mean either way I want you to come over for dinner again, but are you okay?" I asked. I touched his arm, to let him know I actually care. I did care, a lot. Too much.

"Yeah, no. I'm fine. It wasn't that kind of doctor's appointment. It was for boy stuff. Gross," he laughed. "But, hey I would love to come over for dinner, again. Last time it was fun."

We started walking again. His hand brushed against mine, and my arm stiffened.

"Sorry," he said, "I'm sorry. I just wanted to hold your hand." I looked at his hand, and then at him. I hesitated, but reached out to him. He and I started walking hand in hand.

"Freaks!" Someone shouted from the window of a car that passed by us. It was full of the girls I sat with at lunch.

"You're not a freak. You're not. They are," I said to Connor. He looked at me sadly, and let go of my hand slowly.

"I can't take you down with me, Dakota. I won't do it to you," he said. "Maybe I can come over some other time, but I don't think I'm going to be much fun to be around after that."

"Connor, please. My mom wanted you to come over. She specifically told me to ask you to come over, and I wanted you to come over because I think I like you, and I can't stop talking, please stop me," I slurred. "I hate myself."

"Dakota, I want you to like me. I really, really do. I just don't want you to get bullied for my existence."

I stopped talking. I stopped trying to convince him, and I grabbed his hand and started walking with him. When he tried to talk to me I shushed him and I kept walking until we got to my house. My mom had made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

"This is great," I said almost in the form of a question. "See? You almost missed out on this."

He looked at me with sadness in his eyes again and nodded. "This is great. Thank you."