Always You - Conrad Fisher (part 3)
summary: Fake dating isn't as easy as it seems. Lines get blurred, feelings get hurt. An important email makes you wonder what the next chapter of your life is going to look like.
warning: mentions of blood
a/n: I'm so tempted to just make this a full fledge fanfic LOL Enjoy part 3!
"This is going to take some getting used to."
"Shh, you're gonna wake them up."
The sound of hushed voices flow through my ear, then the shutter of a camera. I groan, not wanting to open my eyes yet. The surface beneath me shifts and my eyes almost shoot open when I remember what's under the weight of my body. I guess, who's under the weight of my body.
“Can you two go away, please.” Conrad’s chest vibrates under my ear as his low voice rumbles out. I feel the blanket tugged higher over us, his arm adjusting before it settles back against the small of my back, grounding me.
I try not to tense, but it’s no use. My pulse stutters beneath his touch, my entire body hyperaware of where his hand rests. What the hell is happening to me?
“We flew in late last night and would really like a little bit more sleep,” Conrad grumbles, his voice rough with sleep. The rasp of it makes me clutch at his t-shirt without thinking.
“You’re the one who decided to sleep in the living room,” Jeremiah’s voice teases. I can picture the smirk on his face. “Fine, fine. We’ll get our stuff upstairs. Going into town later to check out vendors, you two should come.”
Their voices fade, footsteps retreating, until it’s just us again.
Conrad exhales slowly, his arm tightening around me, as though he’s reluctant to let go. The steady thump of his heart echoes under my cheek, and I realize with a start, it’s racing almost as much as mine.
“I know you’re awake,” he whispers.
I freeze. My instinct is to pretend, to hold still and maybe he’ll let it go, but I know Conrad. He doesn’t say things like that unless he means them.
Reluctantly, I lift my head, shifting off him. “Sorry. That… probably wasn’t comfortable all night.” I wince, realizing just how much of my weight must’ve been on him.
Conrad shakes his head instantly. “Mmm, no. It was nice. Like a weighted blanket.” The corners of his lips curl up, soft and boyish in a way that tugs at me.
That’s the thing about Conrad, he’s never the type to make anyone feel self-conscious. He finds a way to disarm you, to make even your most awkward moments feel normal.
“I don’t wanna get up,” I mumble, closing my eyes again. My body feels heavy, like I could sink into the cushions forever.
His hand presses lightly against my back, guiding me down again. Then, almost absentmindedly, his fingers slip into my hair, stroking slowly.
My breath catches in my throat. It isn’t the first time he’s touched me like this, we’ve shared beds on road trips, cuddled through storms, even let him braid my hair once during finals week. But this feels different. Too quiet. Too intimate.
“So don’t,” he murmurs. “Stay like this a little longer.”
A smile creeps across my lips before I can stop it.
“If I’d known you were this comfy, I would’ve been using you as a pillow years ago,” I tease, trying to lighten the weight pressing in on us.
He chuckles, deep and low. “Permission granted. Use me as a pillow anytime.”
“Careful, Fisher. Might actually hold you to that.”
We walk side by side, a few paces behind Jeremiah and Belly. The air was cool on my face as we walked the downtown square. Wedding planning had officially started and day one started at the farmers market.
I watched as Jere and Belly swung their hands, basically skipping down the sidewalk.
I hook my arm through his, hand clinging to the fabric of his sleeve. It feels natural, instinctive, though I wonder if he notices how tight my grip is.
“They seem really happy,” I say, watching Belly tug Jeremiah toward a boutique florist stand.
Conrad follows my gaze, his expression unreadable. “They’ve always been in their own little world.”
There’s no bitterness in his tone, not exactly. More like resignation.
I glance up at him. “How are they even going to afford this?”
From the car ride over, I know Jeremiah is scraping by on intern pay and Belly’s juggling two part-time jobs. Neither of them screams “ready for a wedding budget.”
“They’re keeping it small. House wedding, minimal everything.” Conrad shrugs, but his jaw ticks. “They’ll figure it out.”
Belly’s voice carries down the street. “This one’s perfect, Jere! Imagine the tables covered in these!”
Jeremiah beams at her, like he’s ready to buy out the entire stand if it makes her smile.
I study Conrad’s face as he watches them. His features are calm, but his hands are shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders taut. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I.
Instead, I squeeze his arm gently, grounding him the way he's done for me countless of times before. His eyes flick down to me, softening for just a second, like he knows exactly what I’m trying to do.
His eyes look around the market, "How about some coffee?" He tilts his head towards a coffee cart.
"Please," I groan eagerly, basically dragging him with me over there. We'd slept for another 30 minutes after we woke up this morning but I still felt so tired.
The line wasn’t long, just a few locals already sipping their lattes and chatting with the barista like this was their daily ritual. The smell hit me first. Freshly ground beans, caramel syrup, something cinnamon-y wafting through the air. My stomach growled.
Conrad shoved his hands into his sweatshirt pocket, rocking back on his heels as we waited. “What’s your order?”
“You don’t already know?” I teased, tilting my head at him. He gave me that half-smile, the one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but still made my chest tighten.
He glanced at me for a second, then looked back toward the menu posted above the cart. “Vanilla latte. Hot, not iced. Extra shot when you’re tired, no whip. And you always ask for oat milk even though you don’t actually care if it’s oat or almond.”
I blinked at him, my mouth parting slightly. “Okay, stalker.”
He laughed, a low sound that pulled at my stomach in a way I didn’t want to analyze. “Not stalking. Observant.”
“Right,” I muttered, but I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. He was right. About all of it.
When it was our turn, Conrad ordered without hesitation for both of us. It was such a small thing, but watching him say my order like he’d been rehearsing it for years made something twist inside me. Something warm. Dangerous.
We moved to the side to wait, and I crossed my arms, trying to ignore the way my pulse was hammering in my neck. “So, you just…memorize people’s coffee orders?”
“Just yours,” he said simply.
I froze, caught off guard by how casually he said it. No hesitation. No joking tone. Just…truth. My lips parted, but before I could figure out what to say, the barista called out our drinks.
Conrad took them both, handing mine over without missing a beat. His fingers brushed mine, and I felt it all the way up my arm.
“Thanks,” I whispered, suddenly hyper-aware of the crowd around us, the cool breeze, the warmth of the cup in my hands.
He sipped his coffee, then gestured toward a little table under a string of lights. “Want to sit?”
I nodded, following him, my brain still replaying those three words. Just yours.
We sat across from each other, the market buzzing around us. Belly and Jeremiah were a blur somewhere in the crowd, darting from one booth to the next. But for a moment, it felt like it was just us.
Conrad leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. His hair was still a little messy from sleep, curling at the ends, and his sweatshirt looked too soft for its own good. I took a sip of my latte to distract myself, but it didn’t help.
“So,” he started, tapping his cup. “What do you think? You ready to be roped into floral arrangements and tasting cakes you’re not allowed to pick?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “As long as they don’t make me glue seashells onto centerpieces, I think I’ll survive.”
His lips quirked up. “Don’t put it past them.”
We sat there for a while, sipping our drinks, half-teasing about the wedding chaos that was bound to come. But every time his eyes caught mine across the table, the air between us seemed to shift, subtle but undeniable.
When we finally tossed our cups into the recycling bin, Conrad fell into step beside me as we wove back into the crowd of booths. The air smelled like kettle corn and fresh bread, vendors calling out deals to anyone who’d listen.
“Ooh, look at these!” I tugged his sleeve and pointed toward a stand with baskets of handmade soaps shaped like seashells.
He raised a brow. “You seriously want to smell soap right now?”
“Yes, Conrad, sometimes girls like things that smell good,” I shot back, already picking up a lavender bar and holding it to my nose. The scent was calming, earthy and sweet at the same time.
He leaned down, far too close, and sniffed the soap still in my hand. “Not bad,” he murmured. His shoulder brushed mine, casual but enough to send a flutter straight through my chest.
I quickly set it down, pretending I wasn’t suddenly hyper-aware of the space or lack thereof, between us. “Come on, there’s a booth with fresh bread over there.”
“Now you’re speaking my language.”
We moved toward a bakery stand, and I watched as Conrad’s expression softened when the older woman behind the counter offered us samples of sourdough. He thanked her politely, even complimented the bread, which made her beam like he’d made her whole morning.
It was these little things, I realized. The quiet way he noticed people. The way he paid attention. It was dangerous, letting myself notice it too much.
By the time we caught up with Jeremiah and Belly again, they were standing at a table scattered with flower arrangements. Belly’s face lit up when she saw us.
“There you are! We were about to send a search party.”
“Got distracted,” I said quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Coffee.”
Jeremiah smirked, his eyes flicking between me and Conrad. “Mmhmm. Coffee.”
Heat crept up my neck, but Conrad only rolled his eyes and adjusted the strap of the tote bag he’d picked up somewhere along the way. “What’d we miss?”
“Flowers!” Belly chirped, holding up a bouquet of wildflowers. “Aren’t these so pretty? I want something simple, not too fussy.”
I bent to smell them, nodding. “They’re perfect. Very…you.”
“Exactly what I said,” Jeremiah grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “You’ve got good taste, babe.”
I glanced over at Conrad who had left my side, he leaned over the vendors counters, grabbing a small jar with flowers in it and bringing it to the register.
He hands the woman a twenty before strolling back to us.
"For you, love." He hands me the jar and I can instantly feel my cheeks heat up.
Jeremiah and Belly gave each other knowing eyes, smiling at each other before turning to walk back towards the car. My fingers fiddled with the jar full of gerbera daisies.
"Thank you," I lift the jar up. "You really didn't have to."
"It's my pleasure. Plus, gotta make sure they believe us, right? Can't have them thinking there's lingering feelings about them." He shrugs.
We reached the car, Jere and Belly waiting for Conrad to unlock the door.
"You know, " Jere tilted his head towards us. "When you guys first told us you were together, I almost thought you were lying. Sure you guys have been best friends forever but it just seemed so random." He raises an eyebrow.
"But now, it's so obvious." He chuckles, pulling the back door open for Belly before climbing in after her.
I stand there slightly shocked before looking at Conrad who has a small smile on his face, shaking his head slightly before getting into the driver's seat.
Jeremiah had to leave early Monday morning to make it to work, he was gone long before the sun had risen and wouldn't be back till Friday evening.
It was just me, Conrad and Belly.
Things between Conrad and I have felt different in ways I can't describe. We kept up our act in front of Belly but we also didn't stop whenever she left the room and it's left me all jumbled up and confused, wondering if Conrad felt the same way.
Today is also the day I should be hearing back from the exchange program to see if I was selected. MICEFA only has 5 open slots a year and I'm hoping that one of those slots has my name on it.
I hadn't told anyone I even applied besides my parents. The odds of me actually getting in just felt too far out of reach and I figured sharing that I even applied would just get my hopes up and lead to disappointment.
I had no idea when to expect the email but I was on edge enough that my heart rate skyrocketed every time my phone buzzed with a notification.
A knock on the door caused my body to shutter, a small squeak escaping my mouth. I shut the laptop in front of me, concealing my screen.
Conrad's head peeks through the bedroom door.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Belly wants to go to Michael's, ready to go?" He raises an eyebrow.
I let out a small cough, "Actually, I'm going to sit this one out if that's okay." I give him a small smile.
His eyebrows knit together. "Is everything okay?"
"Y-yeah! I just have some schoolwork to do. You know how summer classes are. Just don't want to fall behind." I smile.
"O-kay." He doesn't look fully convinced but he let's it go anyway. "Well, we shouldn't be too long. I'll let you know when we're headed back."
I give him another smile, nodding at him before he waves and shuts the door again. I let out a small groan, falling back onto the bed.
Two hours passed and it's safe to say, I did not get any actual schoolwork done. I paced the kitchen over and over again, staring at my laptop screen for a new email to appear in my inbox.
The sound of the front door unlocking, pulls my gaze away from the screen. I could hear laughter as Conrad and Belly enter the house. He hadn't texted that he was on the way home.
"Hey!" I smile at them once they reach the kitchen. Their hands were full of plastic bags, carefully placing them onto the kitchen table. "Find everything you needed?"
Belly glanced over at Conrad and nodded her head. "Yes, he was a great help. Thanks for letting me steal him for the day."
I look over at Conrad who was staring at his feet.
"We brought some peaches, feel free!" She smiles before digging through the plastic bags and sorting through the items.
My eyes land on Conrad's shirt, instantly noticing the blotches of wet spots littering his shirt.
"Peaches?" I raise an eyebrow at him. "You're allergic to peaches," I state.
"I didn't have any." He shrugs. My eyes land onto his shirt again.
"Then why is there peach juice all over your shirt?"
The sound of plastic bags rustling stops as Belly's hands still.
"It's just sweat, we walked outside for a little bit." Conrad shakes his head. "No big deal, love." He chuckles walking past me to the refrigerator. The sweet smell of peaches hits my face as he walks past and I immediately know he's lying.
I scoff slightly, annoyed that Conrad was obviously lying to me and I don't know why.
I shut my laptop, picking it up off the counter and headed up the stairs.
"Y/N-" Conrad called out. I just kept walking, shutting my bedroom door behind me.
I spend the next hour actually studying and trying to get some schoolwork done. I saw Conrad going out back with his surfboard 30 minutes ago and assumed Belly went out again after hearing the front door open and shut.
My head shoots up as I hear the back door slam and then a yelp, followed by a thud. I'm out of my seat in seconds, running down the stairs and halting when I see Conrad leaned against the wall, blood dripping down his thigh.
"Conrad!" I shout, instantly at his side. "What-"
He hisses as he tries to stand upright. "Must've scrapped a piece of coral.." He groans. "Can you help me up the stairs?" His eyes catch mine and my chest hurts as I take in the pain on his face.
I nod my head, wrapping his arm around my should to take the weight off of him. We slowly made our way up the stairs, leaving droplets of red in our wake.
I push the bathroom door open, setting him onto the bathtub.
"Thank you, I can handle the rest-"
"Shut up," I glare at him. opening the cabinet to grab the first aid kit.
My legs straddle the bathtub mirroring him. I turned the knob, grabbing the shower head off it's mount. "This is gonna sting," I mumble.
I rinse his leg first, my hand gliding over his blood stained shin. Conrad leans forward, his head pressing onto my shoulder and his hand squeezing my thigh in anticipation of the pain that was about to follow.
It's silent in the bathroom, only the sound of the water spraying filled the room. I slid my hand up his leg, warning him. He sucks in a deep breath and then I rinse his open wound. He groans against me instantly, his grip on my thigh only getting tighter.
My breath is caught in my throat as I rinse it off as best as I can, hyperaware of our proximity and the way his hand felt on my thigh. My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest.
I shut the water off, opening the first aid kit and grabbing the materials to wrap his leg properly. Conrad pulls his head away from my slightly, looking down at my hands working against his skin.
I pulled the wrap tight, wanting pressure to hold the gauze against his cut.
"Okay-" I whisper. Conrad looks up at me and I almost stop breathing. Our faces were inches apart. His eyes caught mine and we just stared.
Water still dripped from his hair, his chest sank and rose rapidly as he tried to catch his breath.
"Y/N-" He whispers, his eyes flickering down to my lips. Goosebumps rise onto my skin at the sound of him saying my name,
"Hmm?" I can barely make a sound as he gives my thigh another squeeze.
The gap between us is closed and the overwhelming feeling of his lips on mine, makes me melt into him. My heart was racing against my chest. My hands wrap around his neck, instantly finding it's way to the ends of his hair as if that's where they called home.
Conrad kisses me like he’s been holding it back for years. His lips are warm, insistent, but there’s a hesitation too, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to want this.
The edge of the bathtub digs into the back of my legs, but I barely notice it. My whole body feels suspended, like the air has gone out of the room and the only thing tethering me to earth is the way his fingers press into my thigh.
I sigh into his mouth, and it’s like that tiny sound undoes him. His hand leaves my leg and cups my jaw, tilting my face toward him with a tenderness that makes my chest ache. His thumb grazes my cheekbone, and suddenly I’m terrified because this doesn’t feel casual. This doesn’t feel like a mistake.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. We’re both breathing hard, like we’ve just surfaced from underwater.
"Mmm, that was definitely better than an antiseptic," His voice is rough as he speaks lowly.
A smile spreads across my face.
"Think you can help me up?" I nod my head, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.
I pull us both up to our feet on the tiled floor, making sure he was stable enough to stand on his own.
Conrad towers over me, pulling my head in to place a kiss on my forehead. "Thanks, doctor. Don't know what I'd do without you." That was all he said before he hobbled out of the bathroom.
My fingertips instantly glide against my lips, my chest still heaving from the excitement.
Later in the day, I'm given the task of picking up dinner, as Conrad was still not feeling 100% and Belly was in a jungle of vases and fake flowers.
I drop the takeout bags onto the kitchen island. Calling out that dinner was here and to come downstairs. When I'm met with no response and a silent house, I make my way upstairs, checking their rooms.
A chime from my room causes my heart to give a ridiculous leap in my chest. I'm quick to turn to my room, my feet stopping right in front of my desk.
Subject: MICEFA - Paris Elective - Admission Decision
I don’t think I breathe as I click. The email is mercifully concise. Accepted. Welcome to MICEFA. Please see attached for next steps.
For a second I just stare. Then I do what any rational person with a caffeine addiction and a newfound scholarship to Paris does: I whoop, which comes out somewhere between a squeal and a strangled cheer. I jump up, nearly knocking the chair over and do a small, ridiculous victory dance in the living room that probably looked like interpretive flailing.
My chest if full of excitement from how well today was going. First Conrad-
I have to find Conrad so I can tell him.
I race down the stairs, screaming his name in excitement. I rush out the back door and am halted right before I almost screamed his name out into the sunset.
The dock is a little stage at the edge of the inlet, planks warmed by the sun. I slow as I approach because a scene unfolds that is not the one in my head.
Conrad and Belly are there, close enough that their shoulders touch. They’re talking low, the kind of conversation that makes me automatically back away, like I’m eavesdropping on private radio. Belly’s hand is curled into his sleeve, and for an awful, glorious second it looks like they’re holding hands. Then Conrad dips his head and pulls her into a hug.
It’s not a quick, platonic pat-on-the-back hug. It’s the kind that lingers. His hand at the small of her back, her head tucked under his chin, and for a breathless beat it reads like something private and perfectly theirs. Belly’s laugh is muffled against his shirt. He rests his cheek on her hair like he’s been given a minute to keep.
My stomach does that fall-into-your-throat trick. The world has a noise that suddenly sounds too loud: the gulls, someone’s radio, a distant laugh from a vendor packing up. I feel my feet move before my brain does, and stop two steps behind the outstretched dock like a statue.
They pull away. Conrad’s face lifts first, relaxed and soft. Not guilty. Not startled. He pulls his hand back as if remembering where he is and what people might think. Belly straightens and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, bright and oblivious and glowing.
For a bizarre second, everything in me wants to race forward, shout my news, make this normal again. But the words hit my throat and turn to sand.
I back away, trying to get back to the house as fast as possible to pretend like I hadn't seen anything. For reasons I didn't want to admit to myself, I could feel tears burning my eyes as I shut the backdoor behind me.
It was silly of me to think that maybe Conrad and I could actually happen. It was silly of me to think that maybe he really was over Belly.
Clearly, I was wrong.
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