Social Skills (4 page)

“What?”
Connor’s mouth dropped open, and this time there was no mistaking the blush on
Jared’s skin.
When had Jared heard…

“I
mean, I assume so. I guess I haven’t actually seen you play up close, but I
passed through Old Cabell Hall a few weeks ago while you guys were having
practice. I was too far away to really see your hands, but the stuff you were
playing…sounded awesome.”

“Oh.” Connor
breathed out slowly, mulling over the first thought that popped into his head—that
not many people had a reason to be “passing through” Old Cabell Hall during an
orchestra rehearsal.

“Hey,
why don’t you show me?” Jared interrupted before Connor could reach any
reasonable conclusion.

“Show
you?”

“Yeah,
play something for me. You have your violin here.”

“Oh…I…I
don’t have my music.”

It
was a blatant lie. Jared had to know that. Anyone with half a brain could tell
there was music stored in the outside pocket of his case, or realize that
having achieved the level of professionalism to be in a university orchestra,
he could obviously play at least a few pieces from memory.

“Let’s
go to your place then.”

Connor
opened his mouth to object, but Jared had already grabbed his violin case by
that time and was halfway out the door.

***

“Seriously,
dude. No roommate? That’s fucking awesome.” Jared breathed with a sigh,
settling himself on the empty bed across from Connor’s. “I mean, don’t get me
wrong, Ben’s a cool guy and all, but…wow. No roommate. I wouldn’t mind that.”

Connor
shrugged. He’d only grown less and less sure of how to behave as their strange
day together wore on, and now Jared was in his space—his
sanctuary—and there’d be nowhere to run to if things got awkward.

Or
with his track record,
when
things
got awkward.

“All
right then, no more excuses. Play for me, maestro.”

Ordinarily,
Connor hated playing for private audiences. But at this point, it seemed like
the safest thing he could possibly do with Jared in the room. At least it would
offer him a much-needed break from his anxiety.

He
took out his violin and set some sheet music on his miserably bent wire stand,
just so he wouldn’t be caught in his lie from earlier. Then, with only a deep
breath to bolster him, he launched into the first thing he could think of—the
solo from
Scheherazade
.

It
was a haunting melody, wistful and yearning, yet with a touch of hopefulness to
it at the same time. The room and the tension slipped away as he drew the bow
across the strings, his fingers vibrating with emotion—a simple task
given what kinship he felt with the piece. It was so
easy
in this
space to express himself, to make perfectly clear who he was and what he wanted
from life. If only it were possible to speak with these notes in the real
world.

He
pulled the last sweet note to completion and kept his bow poised on the string,
soaking in the final drops of security.

“Jesus,
that was incredible.” Jared’s awestruck whisper dropped into the charged
silence. “You’re fucking amazing.”

Connor
shook his head. “N-not really…I’m not playing the solo for the concert or
anything.”

“Well
you should be,” Jared declared, standing and walking toward him.

Connor
blinked a few times as Jared was suddenly taking hold of his violin. He rarely
if ever let non-musicians handle it, but he couldn’t seem to find the willpower
to either stop Jared or put the violin away himself.

With
great care, Jared took his instrument and bow and laid them on the bed, then walked
back to him. He grasped Connor’s left hand and turned it over in his open palm.
“What did I tell you—you have great hand coordination.” His thick fingers
flitted over Connor’s more slender ones. They paused to feel each fingertip, lingering
in the faint grooves from the violin strings.

Connor
closed his eyes, his mind reeling. Jared stood far too close, and the
touching
was beyond any contingency he’d ever planned for. If he didn’t keep a grip
on himself, his body might decide to do something without his consent. Something
he’d never live down. Something that would force him to drop out of school and
move to a cabin in the middle of the woods, where he wouldn’t have to face this
ultimate humiliation ever again.

“Your
fingers are so nice,” Jared murmured. “Mine are like bear paws…”

Still
hiding behind closed lids, Connor didn’t realize a tear had slipped out until a
rough thumb brushed his cheek. And he certainly didn’t realize how impossibly
close Jared had gotten until he felt pressure against his lips—soft,
pliable skin, sliding over his, with the hint of a tongue begging for entry
into his mouth.

“Wh…what?”
he gasped, eyes flying open as he struggled to stand.

Jared
backed up quickly. He looked nearly as panicked as Connor felt, with pupils
dilated into pools of deep black. “Oh…oh…I’m sorry. I’m really…I just…sorry.”

He
rushed to the door and was almost out before Connor summoned the ability to
make a sound.

“Wait!”

Jared
turned around hesitantly, gaze on the floor and one hand still on the doorknob.
“Yeah?”

Even
on his best days, Connor would have had a much better chance of making a
coherent point in a research paper. At the moment, his vocabulary seemed to
have dwindled down to nonexistent.

“I…I
am,” he finally managed to get out.

“You
are?” Jared shook his head.

Connor
tried for a shrug, but his body had gone too stiff to allow it. “Yeah. I am.”

Jared
closed his eyes. “Oh, you are,” he exhaled softly, and this time, it wasn’t a
question. He shut the door and in two steps was flush against Connor’s chest. His
arms encircled Connor and he tugged upwards, leaning over to close the gap
between their faces at the same time. He succeeded in parting Connor’s lips
with his own seconds after they connected.

Mouth
filled and mind flooded, Connor had no choice but to surrender to Jared’s
advance. This was
nothing
like anything he had ever experienced. Jared
was not at all like the lonely violist on the back of the Regionals bus who’d
begged and pleaded and guilted him into his first—and only—kiss. And
unlike Clarissa Maddox, Jared didn’t have braces or breasts or breath that
tasted like peanut butter. Jared tasted like mint and his lips were firm and
strong, his tongue warm, and the way it darted around Connor’s mouth probably meant
he was pretty damned experienced in the art of kissing.

Experienced.
The thought that broke the moment.

“Jared,
wait.” Connor fell back on his heels, realizing he’d been on his toes for most
of their kiss.

“I
don’t want to wait,” Jared groaned. He ducked his head back in again to
continue, but to Connor’s surprise, his own tongue was quicker.

“Ronnie,”
he said.

Jared
froze. “What about her?”

“Sh-she’s…she’s
your girlfriend. We can’t…I can’t…”

Jared
backed up a few steps and rubbed his hand over his face. “Yeah. I know. You’re…you’re
right.” He continued toward the door. “Sorry again, then.”

Shaky,
labored breaths kept Connor from responding. Jared grabbed the door and opened
it, but paused with one foot in the hallway. “I didn’t mean to, you know.”

“K-kiss
me?”

“No.
Have a girlfriend.”

He
left with his head bowed and shut the door behind him.

Connor
stood still for the next two minutes before reclaiming his instrument. He
mechanically loosened the bow and put his violin away in its case. Then he threw
himself onto his beige comforter, open-mouthed, and gagged on the taste of his
pillow.

Of
all the times in his life to have a conscience, this had to be the worst.

Chapter Four

“Mrs.
Hasker asked you to pass the stuffing.”

The
thick put-on sweetness of his mother’s voice shook Connor from his thoughts. “Oh,
sorry,” he mumbled, finding the dish and handing it off to her plump friend.

Mrs.
Hasker opened her mouth as if to continue speaking with him. To avoid the
onslaught, he quickly lowered his eyes, and in his peripheral vision caught her
scrunching her chubby cheeks up in defeat.

“Connor’s
gotten too used to daydreaming through dinner while at college, I’m afraid.” His
mother turned to her guests around the Thanksgiving table with an apologetic
smile. “I’m sorry he isn’t being more sociable.”

Connor
slumped down in his chair and used his fork to make a path through his mashed
potatoes. He could have said something to placate his mother and stop the
reproving glances from his father, but there didn’t seem to be much point now
that he’d been called out. He was sure to get a lecture after dinner anyway,
and it wasn’t as if the Haskers—old family friends—weren’t used to
his behavior by now.

“Melissa’s
been learning a new piece for this year’s competition,” his mother continued in
a lighter tone. “Maybe she’d like to play it for us while we have some coffee?”

The
room erupted in murmured consent, and Melissa nodded happily. “Sure, Mom.”

Mrs.
Hasker and her husband shoveled in a few more mouthfuls of food before rising
stiffly. Connor stood as well, but before he even had a chance to grab his own
plate, his mother pinned him with an icy glare. “You can clear everyone’s
dishes, Connor, since you don’t seem to want to be here at all.”

That
suited him well enough. Because the truth was, he didn’t.

He thought
of at least ten places he’d rather be as he tossed the cranberry-stained plates
into the dishwasher. Maybe everyone else at school had been thrilled about the
chance to return to the comforts of home, but sometimes being around his
boisterous and sociable-to-the-point-of-exhaustion mother was harder than being
in a room full of strangers. At least strangers didn’t pierce him with that
frown of disappointment for failing expectations of being a
well-mannered
son.

He
scraped away some turkey skin remains and stuffed them down the garbage
disposal, then watched as the blade made quick work of dissolving the refuse.

If
only he could so easily dissolve the tangle of thoughts in his head.

For
the thousandth time in the past few days, he tried to make some sense of the
jumble.
Why
had Jared kissed him? And even more importantly, why had
he turned away the first guy who had ever shown any interest in him?

Veronica,
he told himself. But that wasn’t the whole story.

Per
his mother’s ingrained instructions, he fetched a used lemon from the
refrigerator and tore off a chunk to liquefy in the disposal. It whirled
angrily as the citrus scent rose up from the drain.

There
was no possible way Jared could actually be interested in him. Jared was
probably just experimenting—and safely, at that. He knew Connor would
never breathe a word. Besides, even if he tried, who would believe him?

Guys
like Jared were supposed to belittle and mock him, or, at best, ignore him. Things
couldn’t have changed so drastically in the six short months since high school.

Or
had they? Jared wasn’t exactly like other jocks. He was friendly. Very friendly.
And he had
kissed
him.

Connor
flicked on the garbage disposal one last time for no other reason than to attempt
to drown out his thoughts. “Idiot,” he muttered to himself. He knew why he’d
turned Jared away.

As
usual, it was fear.

The
sounds of one of Chopin’s Waltzes drifted out from the living room, followed by
a round of applause. A few minutes later Melissa flitted in, rubbing her
knuckles on her shirt. She blew on them with a self-important smirk.

“Mom
says to bring out the pumpkin pie, but you should warm it up first. It tastes
better that way.” She perched on a kitchen stool while Connor wiped stray water
drops off the counter. “So listen, I kinda want to duck out early and go
to Jamie’s house. Her family is having a holiday movie night. Should be more
fun than hanging around here.”

Connor
grabbed the pumpkin pie from the fridge and wrinkled his nose. His mother could
cook, but baking was not her specialty. The pie was a muddy brown color and far
too soupy to ever hope to congeal properly, even with a little extra time in
the oven.

“Connor,
I’m talking to you.” A wadded-up ball of paper towel sailed past his face.

“Yeah?”

“I’m
saying, I want to go to Jamie’s house. Can you help me out?”

“How
can I help?” Connor mumbled, sliding the pie into the oven. His mother’s
voice drifted closer as footsteps sounded in the hallway, and he headed for the
dining room to get out of sight.

Melissa
followed. “You can help by pulling some of the weight around here. Go get your
violin and play something, and maybe Mom won’t mind me leaving. Or just go out
there and talk to them about college. Adults love talking to kids about
college.”

Connor
skirted around to the foyer and grabbed the handrail to the stairs. If he left
now, he’d have a good ten minutes to hide in his room before he’d have to
return for the pie. “Just ask Dad while Mom’s not around. I’m busy right now.”

“Busy?”
Melissa scoffed. “Doing what? Gonna go hang out with your friends? Oh, wait.” She
paused to throw a hand on her hip. “That’s right, you don’t have any.”

He
pushed past her and took the stairs two at a time. Halfway up, his mother’s
voice stopped him.

“Connor?
The pie! And put on another pot of coffee, please. Melissa, Mrs. Hasker would
like to hear you play Mozart’s Sonata 14.”

Melissa
crossed her arms and glared at him. “Thanks for nothing.”

***

Four
whitewashed walls greeted Connor back at school, as he’d never bothered putting
up any decorations in his dorm room. Decorations were an advertisement of who
you were, and he had no one to advertise to.

But
as he stared at the vacant walls, he began to reconsider that stance. It would’ve
been nice to have something up there to distract him from his thoughts. At one
time, his room had seemed like the only safe haven on campus, but not anymore. Now
it was tainted. Tainted by the memories of a broad chest, strong arms, and warm
lips.

He
glanced at his cell phone display. Seven o’clock. The tutoring session would be
starting now, but he’d already called in sick. And this after skipping his
anthropology class on Monday—his first time ever playing hooky—all
in an effort to avoid Jared for as long as possible. Layers of guilt weighed
heavily upon him, but they couldn’t overpower his panic. He was way too off his
game to interact with anyone appropriately, let alone Jared. The safest thing
to do would be to eschew all human contact.

Squeezing
the blue foam ball he’d received during orientation—as a stress reliever,
ironically—he began formulating excuses for quitting at the tutoring
department. If he told them he needed more time for his studies, they couldn’t
fault him, could they?

He
threw the ball up in the air a few times and on the third attempt missed
catching it by an inch. It rolled off into a corner of the room.

Stress
reliever, my ass
. He yanked open his
astronomy book. Maybe he’d have better luck memorizing facts from the dry text.

Footsteps
padded down the hallway outside his room, and he ignored them, like always. But
the loud knock that came a few seconds later startled him half-off the bed. Straightening
his twisted t-shirt, he edged his way toward the door, as if whoever was on the
other side could jump out at him without warning.

“Hey,
Connor?”

Jared.

Connor
pressed his face into the door. The cool surface felt even colder against his
skin—skin that had heated the second Jared’s mellow voice sounded from
beyond the safety of his room. For a moment, he considered pretending he wasn’t
there…but he had a nagging suspicion Jared could already hear the pounding of
his heart through the wall that separated them.

He
cracked the door open a few inches. “Yeah?”

“Hey,
the tutoring place told me you called in sick, so I brought you some chicken
soup from the dining hall. It sucks being sick and alone, doesn’t it? I had a
really bad cold my first week here, and I know it kinda makes me sound like a
sissy…but I actually missed my mother taking care of me.”

Jared’s
smile shone in the hallway, almost blinding Connor as he peered out from his darkened
room. The tiny reading lamp wasn’t bright enough to combat the shadows of
evening. He reached back to flick on the overhead light, and Jared took the
opportunity to slip through the unguarded door. He closed it firmly behind him.

“So,
whaddaya got? A cold? A fever?”

“N-no.
It’s just…a bad headache.”

That,
at least, wasn’t a lie, because in the last several seconds, a staccato pulsing
had started behind his eyes.

“Oh,
like a migraine? I used to get those.”

Jared
put down the chicken soup and took Connor by the hand, dragging him onto the
bed. He made himself comfortable against the wall, then thrust both hands into
Connor’s hair.

“My
mom used to give me these head massages. They really helped.”

Connor
was forced to agree. Jared’s strong fingers did amazing things to help him
forget about the pain and the panic—until one of Jared’s legs snuck
around him and two strong arms pulled him against a muscular chest.

Jared
went back to his massage without skipping a beat.

“Wh-what…what
are you doing?” Connor’s voice shook, and he added embarrassment to the list of
bombarding emotions. He coughed to clear his throat and prepare it for a less humiliating
sound the next time he had to speak.

“I
dunno.” Jared’s shoulders shrugged against his back. “I just…wanted to be
close to you.”

“Why?”

A blast
of warm laughter tickled Connor’s neck. “I dunno. I mean, yeah, you’re really
shy and all, but that’s better than being one of those snobby geeks. I just got
the feeling that if I got to know you better, you’d be pretty cool. And so far,
I’ve been right.”

Connor
snorted. Self-deprecating thoughts staged an upsurge, but his tension eased as
Jared’s hands continued their work. And if this was to be his second
opportunity for…for
something
, he was going to have to grow a pair. At
least
pretend
to be normal.

“Jared?”
he whispered.

“Mhm?”

“I…I
wasn’t really sick. I was just…”

“Freaked
out? Yeah, I guess I did come on a little too strong,” Jared mused with a chuckle.
“I don’t think I’m usually that forward. Or that much of a gambler.”

“What…what
made you think that…that I was…”

“Caught
you staring at me. Lots of times, in fact.” A proud smirk touched his lips.
“I guess it was something in that look. Or maybe it takes one to know one, or
something?”

Connor
wasn’t sure about that
. He
obviously hadn’t known about Jared…but then
again, he was no expert judge of character. “So, um, Veronica,” he pressed,
unable to forget how she played into this picture. “Does that mean you’re…bi?”

Jared
pulled away. He leaned all the way back on the bed until he was lying down and
staring at the ceiling. “No, I don’t really think so. I used to kinda wish I
would be, because then I could just choose the path of least resistance and be
done with it. But I guess that’s not the way things turned out. I’m more
interested in…in hanging out with you now than I am with Ronnie.”

Connor
felt his face turning crimson, and he lay down next to Jared so he could at
least partially hide it in the curve of his pillow. “Oh. S-so why are you with
her then?”

“I
meant what I said the other day. I didn’t mean to be.”

That
wasn’t enough of an explanation, though Connor couldn’t bring himself to ask
for more. But he couldn’t change the topic, either, and after a few beats of
silence Jared grimaced and sighed like he’d been pressed to go on anyhow.

“We
were friends first, and when we hooked up over the summer she was on the
wait-list for UVA. Then she got in at the last minute, and before I knew it she
was telling me and everyone else we knew that we were together. She’s pretty
hot, so I didn’t turn it down because I thought it’d look weird. But lately she’s
been…sorta strange. I actually have been trying to break up with her, but it’s
like she mentally checks out and we just get into these fights that end with
her crying and me apologizing…and my father told me never to make a girl cry…”

He
trailed off for a moment, fidgeting with a bit of fuzz on the edge of his
sweater. “But I’m gonna have to try harder to make things clear to her now.”