Summary: After seeing his loved ones together again after years apart, questions about Conrad's love life end up bringing your photo to the table.
Words: 1,9k.
Warnings & Tags: established relationship. season three spoilers (specifically episode three). fluff. hurt/comfort. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).
Based by this request.
Note: Hello again♡ I didn't expect you to like my first fic so much! I was very nervous, and I loved receiving this request. I hope you like this.
Sometimes, Conrad would look across the table and see his mother smiling at him.
It didn’t matter that she had been gone for years now, her absence a quiet ache that threaded through every season since. It didn’t matter that this was her memorial, that the soft clink of cutlery was muted by the weight of grief, or that candles flickered gently in her name while bouquets of her favorite flowers filled the room with the ghost of summer. It didn’t matter that every chair was occupied by someone who had known her laugh, her warmth, and her boundless way of loving and who carried that loss like a stone in their chest.
It didn’t matter that the person really sitting across from him was his father, rigid in his collared shirt.
Because for him, Susannah was always there.
She was in the light. In the sun pouring through the restaurant window and catching the glint of the ocean just beyond the dunes. In the quiet way Laurel had wrapped her arms around him earlier, holding him like a second mother, so tight and grounding, as if she could hold him together just long enough to get through the day. She was in the sound of Steven’s easy laugh, in the way Belly rolled her eyes fondly at her brother’s joke, and in how Jeremiah nudged his shoulder like they hadn’t lost entire years between them.
Being with them again, after everything and despite everything, felt like slipping into a worn hoodie from his childhood. Frayed at the sleeves, thinned in places, but still warm. Still his.
And then there was you.
Maybe most of all, she was in you.
You, who had crashed into his life quietly and all at once, like the tide.
He’d met you just weeks before his mother died. A moment in time he sometimes thought about like a scene in a movie, too perfectly timed to be real. Like fate, or maybe something softer. Kinder. Maybe she had sent you. Maybe Susannah, with all her light and knowing and mother’s heart, had looked at her boy, being a splintered, grieving, impossibly young and already so tired, and thought: he’s going to need someone like her.
Someone patient. Someone with a voice like a lullaby and laughter that filled the cracks in his chest. Someone who ate ice cream even on rainy days and sang along, very badly, to the radio with him, who learned his silences and never tried to fix them, only sat beside him until he could breathe again.
You had been her parting gift. The last bright ribbon on a life wrapped too tightly around loss.
And sometimes, when you smiled at him from across the room like he was the only thing you saw, or when you pressed your hand flat against his chest like you could feel the places where it still hurt, Conrad would close his eyes, swallow the knot in his throat, and think:
Thank you, Mom.
He was still lost in thought about you when Laurel’s voice rose above the soft clink of glasses and low hum of conversation. Her tone was warm, filled with that quiet maternal pride that always wrapped around him like a knit blanket, one he never asked for but always accepted. She was raising a toast to her children, to their futures, her eyes glinting with unshed emotion beneath the dim restaurant lighting. The flicker of candlelight played across her face as she turned her gaze toward him, and the warmth in her voice softened further.
She spoke of him next.
Of all he’d done, all he’d built, far from home. Her words weren’t just kind, they were reverent and admiring. She spoke of his discipline, his strength, and the way he’d carried the weight of grief and still managed to chase down a future through lecture halls and exam rooms. Each sentence felt like a gentle pat on the shoulder, a reminder that he wasn’t invisible in his efforts. That someone, even from afar, had seen him.
Conrad stared down at the glass in front of him, the golden liquid inside catching the light just enough to blur his reflection. He felt the burn behind his eyes, low and steady, and swallowed it down like the rest of the things he never said.
But before the silence of her words could settle, before he could let the swell of emotion crest and fall, Steven’s voice cut in. Playful. Sharp. Curious. A disruption of that fragile stillness.
“So do you have a girl there?” He asked, his voice slicing through the quiet hum of reverence like a pebble skipped across still water.
Conrad blinked slowly, his gaze lifting from the golden ripple of his drink, catching the soft light that danced along the glass’s edge. For a moment, he hesitated, not because he didn’t know the answer, but because saying it aloud felt fragile and intimate, like unfolding a delicate secret in a room still steeped in memories and silence.
Around the table, Laurel smiled warmly, gently nudging Belly with an elbow as if sharing a quiet joke. Jeremiah tilted his head, curiosity flickering across his features. Even his father looked up from his plate, brows arched with a quiet but unmistakable interest.
The attention turned toward him like a slow tide.
Conrad didn’t rush. He never did. He rubbed a thumb against the condensation on his glass, lips twitching just slightly.
“Yeah,” he said, voice low but sure. “Yeah, I do.”
Steven leaned forward, eyes bright and wide with boyish enthusiasm. “Wait, seriously? You’re seeing someone?”
His dad chuckled softly, a sound rich with both surprise and amusement. “And you didn’t bring her? Why not?”
Conrad looked up then, eyes calm but glittering with something warmer, deeper. “It’s her family’s day, too,” he said quietly. “Didn’t feel right to take her away.”
A thoughtful pause followed, the kind that hangs heavy yet respectful in the air. Laurel’s voice broke it gently, honeyed with fondness. “What’s she like?”
And there it was, the question that mattered most.
Conrad didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for his wallet, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t just flipping through receipts and cards but handling something precious. He slid a small, worn photo from the back sleeve, the one he kept tucked there like a secret, like a prayer.
It was you, standing on the beach last fall, hair wild from the wind, the hem of your jeans wet with saltwater. You weren’t even looking at the camera. You were laughing at something he’d said, eyes half-shut from smiling, your hand lifted in a blurry motion like you’d just tossed a shell back into the waves.
He laid the photo on the table.
A soft collective breath escaped the group, somewhere between a sigh and a quiet ‘oh.’ Laurel’s hand fluttered to her chest, her eyes shining with unspoken emotion. Belly’s head tilted, brows knitting together in a thoughtful frown.
“Wait…that’s this beach,” she murmured.
“That’s our house behind,” Jeremiah added, glancing at his brother. “You brought her here? When?”
“Almost a year ago,” Conrad said softly.
For a moment, no one spoke. The room seemed to pause, the usual clatter of the restaurant fading beneath the weight of his quiet vulnerability. This raw, unguarded glimpse into his life was rare, almost sacred.
Even his father nodded slowly, a silent approval etched into the lines of his weathered face.
“Well,” Laurel said softly, eyes shimmering, “she must be pretty special.”
Conrad’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, the corners lifting with a quiet certainty. “She is,” he murmured. “She really is.”
A minute later, Conrad quietly excused himself from the table, slipping away from the low hum of conversation and the soft clinking of glasses. He didn’t really need the bathroom, he just needed a moment to breathe, to catch the sharp edges of his thoughts before they cut too deep.
His throat felt tight and heavy, the strange ache that comes when grief and love collide pressing against his chest like a weight he couldn’t set down.
Leaning against the cool, smooth tile wall, he pulled out his phone. Your name was already glowing softly on the screen, as if waiting for him, an anchor in the swirling storm.
He tapped it gently and held the phone to his ear, heart pounding a quiet rhythm.
You answered on the second ring, your voice soft and warm, wrapping around him like a familiar melody that made the noisy restaurant fade into a distant murmur.
“Hey, love. Everything alright?” you asked, your tone tender, filled with a soothing kind of care that made his tight chest ease a little.
He swallowed hard, the ache tightening as he pressed his forehead against the cold wall, eyes closing for a brief moment. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just needed a little break.”
A pause stretched between them, your steady breathing a quiet comfort over the line.
“You sound a little shaken,” you said gently. “Talk to me.”
He let out a shaky breath, fingers curling around the edge of the sink. “It’s just…today. Being with them, remembering her. And now…hearing your voice.”
You didn’t rush to fill the silence. Instead, you let it hold him like a soft, protective cloak, an unspoken invitation to unravel the tight knot inside his chest.
“I told them I have a girlfriend,” he said, a shy, almost bashful smile touching his lips. “Showed them a picture of you.”
Your laughter was gentle and bright through the phone. “Oh? You really did?”
He nodded, though you couldn’t see the movement. “Yeah. Wanted them to know you’re not just a voice in my ear.”
There was a tenderness in your voice that made his heart skip, a soft anchor in the tumult. “I’m very real.”
He brushed a trembling hand over his face, trying to chase away the rawness threatening to spill through his words. “I miss you so much.”
“I miss you too,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. “But at least we’re just a call away.”
His lips curved into a genuine, quiet smile. The heavy weight pressing on his chest lifted ever so slightly. “I’m lucky.”
“No,” you said softly, voice steady and sure. “I’m the lucky one.”
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, letting the warmth of your voice fill the hollow spaces inside him, the steady pulse of your love a balm to his weary heart. For a fragile, fleeting moment, everything felt like it might be alright.
He lingered in the silence, the phone pressed gently to his ear, as if holding onto you through the line could stop the world from spinning too fast.
“I wish you were here,” he finally murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, heavy with longing.
There was a quiet pause, full of everything that words couldn’t say.
“I know,” you answered softly. “I wish I was, too.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling the chill of the tiles seep through his skin, grounding him even as his heart soared.
“Soon,” you promised gently, “I’ll be with you for real. No more phone calls.”
A small, hopeful smile broke through the tension coiled inside him.
maybe conrad kept his relationship with reader a bit of a secret? i mean not on purpose but they just didn’t felt the need to tell anyone, so he just brings her randomly for christmas or some dinner and everyone is in shock, especially belly hehe
Nobody Knew About Her
conrad x reader
WARNINGS: nothing
stop I love this request it was so fun to write!!
The car ride was quiet with music in playing. The kind of silence that felt comforting. You were going to Cousins for Christmas dinner with Conrad’s family for the first time and they didn’t even know you. Conrad would glance over at you every few minutes just to make sure you were still okay.
“You nervous?” he asked suddenly, eyes still on the road.
You looked over at him. “A little.”
He smiled, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “They’re gonna love you.”
“Yeah, but… they don’t even know I exist.”
He winced, giving a small, guilty chuckle. “Not like I was hiding you.”
You raised an eyebrow, and he quickly added, “Okay. Not intentionally. I just… liked it being ours, you know?”
You leaned back against the seat, lips twitching. “I know.”
By the time he pulled into the driveway, your heart was thudding a little faster. The house was glowing from the inside — warm lights, wreaths on the windows, and soft music leaking out through the front door when someone opened it and stepped outside.
Jeremiah.
He grinned when he saw the car. “Hey dude! Finally—”
Then his eyes landed on you as you stepped out the car and his smile slipped into surprise.
“Hey,” Conrad said, casual. “This is y/n.”
Jeremiah blinked. “Oh… wow. Uh, hi!”
You smiled politely. “Hi.”
He turned back toward the house and yelled, “Conrad brought a guest!”
That’s when the domino effect started. Everyone came out to the front foyer. Laurel. Steven. Belly.
Belly, in her soft red sweater, her wedding ring barely visible, her face freezing in an unreadable expression the second she saw you.
She didn’t say anything at first. Just looked from you to Conrad, and then back again. “Hey,” she said eventually. Her voice was flat. “Didn’t know you were bringing someone.”
Conrad gave a small shrug. “Didn’t think it needed to be a whole thing.”
Dinner was… weird after that.
Laurel was sweet, asking you questions, trying to make up for the awkwardness with warmth. Jeremiah was his usual charming self, though he kept glancing at Belly like he was trying to silently figure her out. Belly mostly picked at her food, said little things here and there — polite but pointed. Casual but cold.
Like when you mentioned your job, and she blinked and said, “Oh, so you’re not in school anymore? Huh.”
Or when Conrad handed you a glass of wine and she said, “Wow, I’ve never seen him like this with anyone.”
The room would go quiet every time.
Later that night, after everyone had said their goodnights and headed off to their rooms, you and Conrad were curled up in the guest room — the one he used to sleep in every summer. You were still in his hoodie, your makeup wiped off, his legs tangled with yours under the blanket.
His thumb was rubbing slow circles into your arm.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
You hesitated. “I think she hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“She didn’t even talk to me.”
“She didn’t talk because she was shocked,” he said gently. “That’s not your fault. That’s on me. I should’ve… given everyone a heads-up.”
You were quiet.
He leaned in, forehead pressing against yours. “But I don’t regret bringing you. Not for a second.”
You looked up at him. “Even though your ex was downstairs silently glaring at me over ham and mashed potatoes?”
He laughed under his breath. “Even then.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Is it going to be like this every holiday?” you asked quietly.
“No,” he said firmly. “This is the only surprise one. After this, you’re just… part of it. Like everyone else.”
You smiled, finally letting your shoulders relax. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he echoed, and kissed your forehead. “We’ll be fine.”
some soft conrad fisher x fem reader smut pretty please !! maybe a LITTLE breast sucking…
lazy days & loving touches - conrad fisher x fem!reader
wc: 1219
summary: you and conrad go to cousins for a long weekend and get busy...
warnings: smut mdni, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it guys!!), breast/nipple play, kissing, oral (fem receiving)
me: hi honey thank u sm for the request!! was struck with inspo as soon as u sent it!! i'm still v unsure in writing smut so dont be afraid to give feedback!
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Soft sighs filled the room, both of you melded together into one being. You were in Conrad’s bedroom in the Cousins house, the two of you stealing a long weekend together by the beach.
You loved the beach house, though you hadn’t grown up there like the Fishers or Conklins had. You’d only been recently introduced to it since becoming Conrad’s girlfriend, but it was the kind of place where you could imagine being happy for the rest of your life.
Certainly, at least, you were currently existing in perfect contentedness.
Conrad’s lips were plush and soft against your own, tasting slightly of the vanilla bean lip balm you’d recently given him. His tongue slipped into your own mouth, smiling at your breathy moan.
One of his hands snaked beneath your waist, gripping you tight as he lay on top of you. The weight was comforting, warm like your favourite blanket. His other hand rested on your neck, thumb brushing the skin of your cheek.
Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. Both your legs intertwined under the light cotton sheets, perfect for the lazy summer day.
Conrad shifted his kisses down to your neck, sucking and licking as you giggled.
“Connie,” You moaned, “Feels so good.”
He chuckled against your skin, moving down lower.
“Yeah?” He asked with a teasing lilt. Conrad licked around the curve of the breast exposed above the hem of your tank top before sucking hard. You subconsciously pushed your chest up into him, jerking as he bit into the fat of your breasts. You whined his name, pulling on his hair.
You’d never been more grateful to go braless than when Conrad travelled further down, teeth grazing your nipple through the thin cotton fabric.
Seeing your pleasure, he carried on, free-hand bunching your top up so he could stare down upon your boobs.
“So fucking pretty,” He mumbled before diving back in, mouth sucking on one pink nipple as his hand moved to torture the other. You were already a mess, and you’d barely started.
You took the initiative to remove your shirt, flinging it across the room. Conrad’s guitar made a discordant echo as the fabric landed on the neck. Neither of you paid it any attention, Conrad practically devouring your breasts as you pawed at his shirt, silently begging him to take it off.
You propped yourself up on your elbows as Conrad pulled away for a moment, struggling almost comedically to get his shirt off in his desperation. Maybe Conrad wasn’t as built as his younger brother, but that couldn’t have concerned you less. You thought he was perfect, and gave him your best bedroom eyes to convey it.
Conrad watched you, staring up at him with lidded eyes under thick lashes. The corners of his lips twitched in an almost smile before he dove back into you, stealing a passionate kiss from your lips as his hands wandered down to the waistband of your white linen trousers, fiddling with the button.
You helped him shimmy the trousers and your panties down your legs, landing in a pile on Conrad’s floor.
Conrad kept his eyes on you as his fingers crept closer to where you needed them most, your breathing shallow as he teased. When his nimble fingers finally made contact with your clit you yelped, hips bucking up to create more friction.
“Calm down, baby. I’m not gonna let you go unsatisfied,” He teased you, floppy hair falling in front of his face as he lowered himself down to be level with your crotch.
Conrad only managed one polite lick before he was devouring you, mouthing at your pussy like it was the last time he’d ever eat. All you could do was sigh and moan and writhe under his attention.
“Oh, Connie, you treat me so well,” You babbled, hands fisting the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself.
If you thought Conrad’s mouth was heavenly, it was nothing compared to when he slid one long digit inside you, stretching you out.
“Need you, Con,” You mumbled, trying to wriggle out of his grip. He was reluctant to let you go, enjoying giving as much as you were enjoying getting.
“Need me how, angel?” He emerged, chin glistening with your juice.
“Wanna ride you.” Conrad’s face broke out into a grin, the pretty kind you loved being the cause of.
“Yeah?” He asked, sounding almost disbelieving. You nodded, producing an affirmative hum.
Conrad sprang into action, climbing up the bed to sit against his headboard, shimmying out of his shorts and boxers. He held out his hand, and you spat in it, watching in fascination as he jerked himself off with a few languid strokes.
You climbed on top of him, legs straddling his own brilliant thighs. There was a moment of quiet as you lined Conrad up with your entrance. You both moaned as you sank down on his length, holding each other like you were the only ones left on earth.
You smashed your lips against his, hands wandering over his body as you began to lift and sink on Conrad’s erection, the friction sending shudders up through your body.
Conrad’s eyes were glued to your breasts, staring as they bounced up and down in time with your movements. Without warning, he attached himself to you again, teeth catching your nipple.
He sucked, hard, his other hand drifting up your body so that both buds were stimulated, breathy sighs escaping without your consent.
“So handsome,” You admired him, eyes barely open as you focused on keeping a steady rhythm. “You’re so good to me, Con. I love you, I love you so much.” You blabbered, pressure building where the two of you joined.
“My girl,” He mumbled in response, face in the crook of your neck so his breath tickled your skin. “Making me feel so good. I love you.”
You traded whispered declarations of love and admiration as Conrad began thrusting up into you, both on the very edge of falling apart.
“Come on, beautiful. Come for me.” Conrad’s words, the earnestness and devotion, sent you over the edge, shaking until you slumped into your boyfriend’s chest.
Your erotic show was too much for Conrad to handle, and he followed soon after you, holding you tight to him as you felt him twitch and spill inside you.
When you were both finished, Conrad manoeuvred you into a lying position, still inside you. You lay intertwined, syncing your breaths until you felt like a singular being.
“Thank you,” You mumbled, hand threading through his hair.
“For what?” Conrad huffed a quiet laugh, “You did all the work.”
“For loving me. I’ve never felt the way I feel with you, Conrad.”
Conrad didn’t reply, just kissing your temple and pulling your head closer to his chest.
You both fell asleep in the golden light of the afternoon, sheets strewn haphazardly around your legs. You hoped this was what the rest of your summers would feel like: post sex glow, sinking sun, and Conrad Fisher growing older with you and never letting you go.
Conrad Fisher x Girlfriend!Reader
Rating: M
Word Count: 9.2K
Summary: It's the first summer since you and Conrad started officially exclusively dating. You're spending the latter part of the summer in the Fishers' beach house with Conrad, but you can't help noticing that Belly seems to still have some feelings for him.
Notes: This is technically a sequel to Bolting, but it's not necessary to read Bolting to understand everything that happens in this story. I try to summarize some of the things I changed from the canon in the show. It was requested. (Enjoy! I normally am not reliable at fulfilling requests, but once I read this one I just couldn't stop thinking about how that'd unfold and pulled this together in a day.) Warnings for smut (oral both F&M receiving, unprotected sex, mentions of bondage, praise kink) and drinking.
You’d already been in Cousins Beach for about a month and a half that summer by the time your boyfriend, Conrad Fisher, was able to come visit. He had spent most of the start of the summer studying for his USMLE Step 1 exam, but he called you as soon as he finished the test and told you he would be coming back to Cousins Beach for the rest of the summer.
The two of you had been together for about a year at that point, after you ran into him on the beach last summer. Conrad confessed that night he had a years-long crush on you, and you told him that you felt the same way. That conversation launched a whole series of events, and by the end of the summer, you both decided to be exclusive – even if it would mean having a long-distance relationship.
Though, the distance wasn’t going to last much longer. Over the course of the past year, you had visited him several times in the Bay Area, and you fell in love with California. You decided to move to San Francisco instead of nearby Palo Alto, but 30 miles apart was better than over 3,000. He was thrilled when you told him about it.
But until the move, the two of you agreed to spend as much time as you could in Cousins Beach before the summer was over. It might be both of your last chances before you moved to California. Conrad’s next few years of medical school were going to be tougher and more time-consuming, so he was unsure of the next time he’d be able to spend a quality summer there. You knew you were inclined to stay with him, even if that meant spending the summers in California.
When Conrad finally arrived in Cousins in late July, you told your parents you would be staying at the Fishers house for the rest of the summer. It was the first time you said something so bold to them, but both of your parents understood and agreed that you would visit at least three times each week. When Conrad picked you up, your dad made Conrad promise as much. Both your dad and Conrad hauled your bags in Conrad’s Range Rover. You eyed as the two men conserved again – most likely over the same promise to make sure you came by the house often. When Conrad hopped into the driver seat, he leaned over and kissed you.
“I missed you,” you said.
“I missed you too,” he replied.
When you made it to the house, he insisted on carrying your bags up to his room. It was only going to be the two of you in the house for most of the week, since Belly, Steven, Taylor and Jeremiah usually didn’t come until weekends when they were done with their day jobs. You watched as he went back and forth from the car, while you just laid on his bed and waited for him. By the time he was coming up with the last bag, you had slipped off your shirt and shorts – revealing a lacy light blue lingerie set you purchased just for today. When he walked through the door, his eyes widened when he spotted you laying across his bed. He let out a low whistle and grinned.
“Can’t believe I’m getting you all to myself finally,” he said, as he set your last bag down. He admired you for a second and gently ran the back of his hand along one of your legs. You shivered.
It had been so long since you last felt his touch, and you hadn’t realized just how much you had been yearning for it until you felt it. He leaned down to kiss you. As his lips met yours, one of his hands slipped into your underwear and stroked your core. You moaned into his mouth. He pulled away, grinning again. “You’re already wet. Were you just holding this in the whole car ride back here?” He lifted his hand up and you could see it was glistening.
You squirmed a little beneath him. You were eager to have his hands on you again. “You’re just so hot. I couldn’t help it.”
“Yeah?” he said. His hand cupped your face and he ran his thumb over your lips. You opened your mouth a little bit, and he stuck his index finger in. You closed your lips around his finger, and you tasted yourself on him. His eyes darkened as he peered down at you, and he pulled his finger out. He leaned down again to kiss you, and your hands cupped his face. “Good girl.”
You reached down to tug on him by his pants. You wanted him on top of you as soon as possible, but he just gave you a cocky smirk. You knew he loved when you got riled up like this. He especially loved knowing he was the one who had that power over you.
“Conrad please,” you said breathily.
“Please what?” he teased. You shot him a look. “Say it. You know I love it when you say it.”
You gave in. “Please fuck me.”
“Atta girl.” One of his hands cupped your boob over the lacy bra you were wearing. “I’ll fuck you, but first I need to touch you for a little longer. And I want your lips around my cock for a bit too.” His eyes lifted up to meet yours. “Do you think you can do that?” You nodded your head vigorously, and he smirked again.
He then swung his legs over you so he was finally on the bed. He pushed your bra up and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples. You let out another moan, and Conrad lifted his head up. “God I missed hearing that sound,” he said. He started kissing down your chest and stomach, and then began to pull your underwear down your legs. You lifted your hips slightly to help him. He gently pulled your legs apart, then leaned down to press a kiss on your center. One of his hands still reached up to cup your breast, as he softly sucked on your clit. He was practically devouring you. His tongue lightly teased at your entrance, and you gasped at the feeling. He moved his hand from your breast down toward your center. As his tongue focused on your clit again, he started fingering you.
“Conrad, oh my god,” you moaned. He kept stroking you and circling your clit with his tongue. Within minutes, you were on the brink of climaxing. “Conrad, I’m so close.”
“Come for me, baby,” he whispered. You came within seconds. He kept stroking you as you rode out your high.
When you finally caught your breath, he leaned over you to kiss you. You started unbuttoning his pants. You pushed him over to the side, so you could be on top of him. He was smiling as you tugged down his boxer briefs, and he threw his own t-shirt off.
You licked your hand and wrapped it around his cock, just to hold it as you kissed his tip. He groaned and ran one hand along the back of your head. “I want you to look at me, baby. I need to see you.” Your eyes instantly met his. You twirled your tongue around his tip, before wrapping your lips entirely around his cock and moving your head down. He groaned as you started bobbing your head up and down along his cock.
After a few minutes, he pulled you off and you whined a little. “I need to be inside you. C’mere.” You crawled up so you were completely on top of him, but he immediately flipped the two of you over. You let out a little squeak, and he laughed as he pulled your legs over his shoulders. One of his hands was wrapped around your leg, and the other was on his cock. He lined up with your entrance and slowly slid inside of you. You whimpered at the fullness. “You always feel so good. So perfect for me.” He started thrusting inside you. At first, he moved at a slow, steady pace, but after a few thrusts, he started picking it up. You clutched onto the sheets as he moved in and out of you.
He threw your legs off his shoulders so he could be closer to you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him. “I love you,” you whispered to him.
“Fuck, I love you,” he said back. You were squeezing his back and that made him groan. “Baby, I’m about to come.”
“Do it,” you urged. He kissed you again, still thrusting inside you.
You felt him then slow down, and you knew he had finished. The two of you kept kissing. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, and you kept your arms wrapped around him. Your hand lightly stroked the back of his head, as he stilled inside you. For a minute, the two of you just held each other, not moving.
He pulled out of you and you whimpered at the loss. He smiled and gave you a small peck.
“I’m gonna have to make you Mrs. Fisher soon,” he said. “I don’t know if I can last much longer without it.”
“Yeah? What ring are you going to get me?” you teased.
“The biggest one I could possibly find.” He grabbed a tissue and started cleaning you up. “But actually, I do have a ring for you. It was my mom’s ring, and it’s sitting in a drawer in Boston. I’m just waiting to actually make money before I get you tied up in my finances.”
You sat up. “Wait, really? You’re serious?”
His lips curled up. “Duh.”
“You want to marry me eventually?”
And again, he said, “Duh.”
You cupped his face and kissed him again. You had always known this was more serious than any other relationship you had, especially compared to your ex, but it was nice to hear Conrad verbalize it too. You were thrilled that he had been thinking about marriage. He was the first person you could actually see it with.
***
You and Conrad were spoiled the first few days in the summer house. You both had the house entirely to yourselves. You spent the mornings having sex, then eating breakfast. And in the afternoons, you would go to the beach or the pool and lay out in the sun. In the evenings, the two of you had sex again. You had been deprived of his touch for so long, you were eager to be around him any chance you got.
But now, it was Friday, which meant that Jeremiah, Belly, Taylor and Steven would be coming for the weekend.
“How are things with Jeremiah and Belly? And well, I guess Steven and Jeremiah?” you asked.
Conrad shrugged. “I know Steven and Jeremiah are fine now. Steven told me that Belly and Jer have been fine the past few weekends. They kept in touch when she moved to Paris for a year. I think it’ll be fine.”
You had a feeling in the pit of your stomach it was not going to be fine.
You tried not to put too much thought into it as the four of them arrived. Steven, Taylor and Jeremiah came first. They drove from Boston together to the house. Steven picked you up to give you a hug as soon as he saw you, which made both you and Conrad laugh. The five of you were sitting on the couch together catching up when Belly finally arrived from Philadelphia. Taylor was the first one to run over to her to give her a hug.
You noticed that the dynamic was different this year. Even though Conrad said that Jeremiah and Belly were fine, you noticed they kept avoiding each other’s eyes. They were both being nice to each other and making polite conversation, but it didn’t have the same warmth that it used to have.
You also couldn’t help noticing that Belly’s eyes kept flickering over to Conrad. You had made a similar observation last summer when she was engaged to Jeremiah, but now, it was more potent. You shifted over to be closer to your boyfriend. He seemed to detect that you felt a little off, since he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and gave you a quick peck on the side of your head.
“Okay, wrap it up lovebirds,” Jeremiah joked. You rolled your eyes, but laughed.
“Wait, Y/N, I heard you’re moving to California soon,” Steven said. “That’s awesome. When do you go?”
“I leave in September, so when he goes back basically,” you answered, pointing to Conrad. “We’re going to spend the rest of the summer here together, and then I’ll be off.”
“You’re moving to Palo Alto?” Belly asked. You shook your head.
“No, I’m going to move to San Francisco instead, so I’ll only be like a 30 minute drive from him,” you replied. “I decided I wanted to move in alone first, just so I could make my own identity in the city for a bit.”
Taylor nodded her head. “I totally get that,” she said. “I’ve only heard good things, but really all I know is from Steven who was drunk half of the time he was visiting Conrad so … do with that what you will.” Conrad snickered.
“I was not that drunk,” Steven protested.
“Steven, you literally at one point got on your knees and started giving a really incoherent speech about Jalen Hurts,” Conrad said. The whole group laughed.
“I think I’ve heard that speech,” Belly said. “Does he talk about that pass to Devonta Smith from the 50 yard line?”
Conrad laughed and nodded his head. “Yup, yup. That’s exactly what he did.”
“Oh c’mon, it was a good pass!” Steven said.
“We know, you’ve told us all at least 40 times about it,” Jeremiah joked. “Even though we all watched it happen live.”
“You know what, fuck you guys,” Steven said, shaking his head. “You guys are Pats fans, so you know nothing about taste.”
“Steven, literally no one is disagreeing with you about Jalen Hurts right now,” Conrad replied, laughing.
“Oh you didn’t say it, but I felt it,” Steven said. “You were coming for my husband.”
Taylor rolled her eyes. “He’s been wanting to put a photo of Jalen Hurts in our bedroom, but I was like, genuinely worried he’d look at that photo instead of me during sex.”
“He is really hot,” Y/N chimed in. “Like I think he’s the hottest quarterback in the NFL right now.”
“Not Caleb Williams?” Jeremiah asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s my husband.”
***
The six of you cooked dinner together that night. You sat around the dining table and drank wine, and by the time both you and Conrad made it up the stairs, you were sufficiently tipsy. He laughed as you flopped on top of his bed.
“Okay, c’mon, arms up,” he said as he loomed over you. You playfully threw your arms up and he peeled off your shirt. He reached behind you to undo the clasp of your bra and threw both items in his hamper. He then tugged your skirt down your legs and started taking off his own clothes.
“No t-shirt?” you asked.
He grinned mischievously. “Not yet.” You knew exactly what he was up to. You crawled underneath his covers and slipped off your underwear.
“Okay, but we have to be quiet now since we have other people in the house.” He smirked and nodded his head, as he slipped next to you in the bed.
“Believe me, I know. Because once they leave Sunday, I’m going to tie you to this bed and I plan to have you screaming my name all day,” he said, tugging you close to him. You grew wet at the thought. “Would you like that?” He started kissing along your neck, and you tried to restrain yourself from moaning. “Yes or no?”
You nodded your head vigorously. “I’d like that.”
Conrad lined himself up with your entrance and started thrusting into you again, just like he already did this morning. You wrapped your arms around him and buried your head in his neck in an attempt to be quiet.
***
The next morning, the group decided to go to the beach together. The six of you sat in a circle. You sat next to Conrad, and Belly was seated on his other side.
“Anyone up for a round of beach volleyball?” Belly asked.
Conrad looked over at her. “Are you sure? Do you think your knee will be okay?”
She nodded her head. “I just can’t do too much jumping.” She then pointed to Steven. “So don’t do the thing where you get ultra competitive.”
He raised his hands in a defense. “You’re the one who gets competitive, so you’ll be the one to decide that.”
“I’ll play,” Taylor said, standing up. “I don’t want to be on the same team as Steven though.”
“Heyyy,” Steven said. “What is it? National Come For Steven Day?”
Both Belly, Taylor and Jeremiah said in unison, without any hesitation, “Yes.” They all laughed.
“I’ll play with you, Steven,” Conrad said. You curled up in your beach chair, smiling as you watched your boyfriend walk over to the net. His arms looked toned, and you bit your lip as you saw him flex a little as he served the volleyball.
“So, Y/N, how are you really feeling about California?” You snapped out of your thought when you heard Jeremiah ask the question, and you turned to him.
“I’m feeling really good,” you answered. “It’s just going to be really different from the east coast. And might be weird at first, to really not know anyone except for Conrad, but I think I kind of need somewhat of a fresh start.”
Jeremiah nodded his head. “Yeah, I hear that.” It was quiet for a moment, and you studied him. He looked downcast after he spoke those words.
“Hey, have you been doing?” you asked. “I know the past year… Well, it hasn’t exactly been easy.”
He snorted. “That’s one way to put it.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s … fine.” The rest of the group was so far away, so it was unlikely they would hear you and Jeremiah speaking. Still, he lowered his voice as he continued to talk. “I mean, the summer has been a lot easier than I thought it’d be, but… It was weird last night – watching her with Conrad.”
Your eyebrows scrunched together. “What do you mean?”
“Well, the way she was acting around him,” Jeremiah said. You were still confused, and you just cocked your head. “The looks she kept giving him? The way she reacted when you said you were moving to California and it was clear to her how serious you guys were? The way she chimed in the conversation really only after Conrad said something? C’mon, you had to notice it.”
You had, but you weren’t sure if it was the right thing to acknowledge it. You didn’t want to egg Jeremiah further on and build more resentment in the house. “I mean, I guess, but it’s not like anything would ever happen in between the two of them, so I didn’t pay a lot of attention to it.”
Jeremiah shook his head. “I don’t know. I would just be careful if I were you.”
You curled your legs up and tucked them into your chest. You were starting to feel uncomfortable with the conversation. You knew Belly and Conrad had a history, but he reassured you repeatedly last summer it was over. It felt like you were navigating rocky territory, since you were talking about your own boyfriend after all, but it was clear Jeremiah knew something. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, he’s the reason we broke off the wedding,” he said. “She still loves him. She told me as much. And I’m willing to bet he still loves her too.”
You shook your head. “Jer, you know that’s not entirely how it happened.”
You remembered the moment clearly from last summer. You had met up with Conrad while he was out for his brother’s bachelor party, and you had been there when Redbird joked about Jeremiah hooking up with someone in Cabo. You watched as Conrad booked after his brother, but gave up on the confrontation. You’d also been there when Steven located the two of you via Find My Friends and Conrad told him what he’d overheard. Steven went and found Belly on the beach that night, while Jeremiah was blackout drunk up the stairs. The next morning, they called off the wedding. It had been a mutual decision, after it became clear their relationship was too chaotic to be sustainable.
“Y/N, she told me the next morning she still loves him,” he said. “I was there!”
“And so what if she did Jer?” you said, slightly exasperated. “But you know there’s more to that story. It’s not just on Belly and Conrad. And besides, all of this doesn’t matter at this point, because Conrad and I are together. He doesn’t want anything to do with this anymore!”
The two of you were silent for a second. You knew you were breathing heavily. You were slightly agitated with Jeremiah for avoiding accountability over all of the events from last summer, but even more so, for trying to make you feel insecure and unsteady in your own relationship.
But you took a beat to just breathe. It was clear he was hurting. It couldn’t have been easy to call off a wedding.
“Look, I’m not trying to fight with you, and I’m sorry,” you said. “It feels a little like you’re trying to make me insecure about it, and I’m just not gonna do that.”
Jeremiah sighed. “I’m sorry too. I’m projecting. I’ve been trying to work through letting all of it go with my therapist, but it’s hard.”
“Look, your dad hasn’t made it easy on you. Conrad has told me how he always created this competition between the two of you and he seems to constantly neg you,” you said. “I’m glad you didn’t take that job with him.”
Jeremiah smiled. “Yeah, I’m glad too. It’s been nice just to cook again and not be in an environment where his pressure is looming over me all the time. I think I’m actually going to go to culinary school in the fall.”
“I think you’d be great at that, Jer,” you said, and you meant it. You glanced over at your boyfriend, who was high-fiving Steven after the two of them apparently scored a point. “You know, it’s made me happy to see you and Conrad start to get close again. He really loves you, you know. You should come visit us in California soon. I know he’d really love to see you there. He had a blast with Steven last year. Maybe the three of you could all coordinate a trip together.”
You could see a twinkle in Jeremiah’s eyes. “That’s not a bad idea.”
At that moment, Conrad had come back over to the two of you. He walked over to the cooler to grab a few water bottles. He smiled at the two of you and passed you one of the bottles. “Don’t forget to drink some water, okay?” he said. “It’s hot out today.”
“Thank you, Dr. Fisher,” you teased.
Jeremiah studied the two of you. “You know, it’s been good to see him move forward. He seems really… at peace.”
“And you know that’s possible for you, too, Jer. It’s just going to take some time,” you said. “Now, c’mon, I know the doctor is making sure we stay hydrated, but I think we can do that with some fun involved.” You pulled two shooters of tequila out of the cooler and tossed one to him. He caught it cleanly.
“Ooh, I like the way you think,” he said. You both twisted open the shooters in unison and clinked the tiny bottles of plastic against each other. Then, you lifted the shooter in your mouth and threw back the shot. You saw Steven cheering you guys on from the volleyball court and laughed.
“Okay, now you gotta take a sip of water before Conrad starts becoming the overconcerned doctor,” Jeremiah said.
***
When the six of you got back to the house later that afternoon, you went up to Conrad’s room to decompress. Conrad followed right behind you. You curled up on top of his duvet, while he fiddled with his old CD player. You saw him grab the album The Colour And The Shape and insert it in the player.
“Foo Fighters?” you asked, sitting up. “Are you in a mood you want to talk about or something?” He laughed and shook his head.
“No, sorry, I just wanted to listen to my close and personal friend Dave Grohl.” He climbed onto the bed and wrapped you in his arms, as you heard Grohl sing, “You know in all this time we shared / I’ve never been so scared.” He pressed a kiss on your forehead, and you both closed your eyes for a minute.
But that moment of peace and quiet was over when you heard the guitar open up “Monkey Wrench.” Your eyes popped open, and you both laughed.
“I forgot how loud that kicks off,” Conrad said.
“Oh fuck yeah!” Steven yelled, barreling into the room. He started jumping and thrashing around like he was at the concert, and yelling the lyrics. Conrad hopped up and started doing the same. The boys were egging each other on. Soon, Jeremiah came in, and it practically looked like a moshpit. You were just seated on Conrad’s bed, giggling the whole time.
When the bridge came on, they all started yelling the lyrics, “ONE LAST THING BEFORE I QUIT I NEVER WANTED ANY MORE THAN I COULD FIT INTO MY HEAD I STILL REMEMBER EVERY WORD YOU SAID AND ALL THE SHIT THAT SOMEHOW CAME ALONG WITH IT!” You were throwing up your fist, cheering them on as they were screaming. Taylor appeared in the doorway, and she looked at them in disbelief as they danced. “STILL THERE’S ONE THING THAT COMFORTS ME SINCE I WAS ALWAYS CAGED AND NOW I’M FREE!”
Taylor shot you a look. “How do you put up with this all day?” gesturing to them.
You slightly shook your head. “I just… let them cook.”
Steven had leapt on the bed and started mimicking playing the guitar, and both you and Taylor laughed. She pulled out her camera and started recording the three boys.
It was good to see them bonding like this after all of the events from last summer. You never wanted it to go away.
When the song finished, the boys dapped each other up. “We gotta start grilling soon. Don’t forget,” Steven said. He threw his arms around Taylor, and they walked down the hallway together.
“Hey, did you marinade the chicken?” Jeremiah asked Conrad. “Or should I do that now before we grill?”
You raised your hand. “I marinaded it this morning. It’s in the fridge.”
Jeremiah pointed to you and said, “You’re a real one. I hope you know that.”
“Yeah, she makes me more competent,” Conrad said.
Jeremiah clapped his hand on his brother’s back. “Yeah, if you ever leave her, I’m gonna be pissed. She makes you cooler.” And the three of you laughed, before Jeremiah left the room.
Conrad threw himself back onto the bed, as “Hey, Johnny Park!” played.
“You’re a little sweaty now,” you commented, but you snuggled into his chest anyway.
“Sorry, I was being a rockstar for a second,” he replied.
“That was really cute by the way. It’s good to see you guys all getting along.”
Conrad smiled. “I know, right? Kind of felt like the good old days again.” You squeezed his arm as he spoke. The past few years were difficult for him. After Jeremiah started dating Belly, Conrad put an emotional distance between him and his younger brother. It was to protect his own peace, but when you first learned about it last summer, you could see how much it killed him not to be close to his sibling anymore. “I’m just glad Jer and I are cool again.”
“I’m glad too,” you said. “We had a really good conversation at the beach today.”
“I was wondering what you guys were talking about. Your body language at one point wasn’t looking too good, but it seemed like you guys were cool by the end.”
You nodded your head and mulled over how to explain this to Conrad. “Yeah, he was just talking about him and Belly, and I don’t know. He seems to still have this idea that you’re the reason they ended their relationship.” Conrad stiffened. “I told him that he knows there’s more to it than that, and after that, things were chill.”
“Why would he say that though?”
You shook your head. “That’s something you’re going to have to talk to him about, but I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Like I said, he cooled down after that and acknowledged Cabo and everything. He talked about wanting to visit you in California and culinary school. It really was just a brief comment. That was the only time I got thrown off.”
Conrad still wasn’t satisfied. His face was still scrunched up. “I dunno. It’s just weird of him to say. He’s definitely never said anything like that to me. He just said I intervened too much.”
You squeezed his arm. “You didn’t do anything wrong last summer. And like I said, I wouldn’t put too much thought into it. It really was a throw away comment.”
Conrad sat up a little so he could make eye contact with you. “I need you to know though, there’s nothing there anymore.”
You nodded your head. “I do know that.”
He let out a long breath. “Okay, good.” Conrad seemed to finally relax and leaned back down. He ran one of his hands along your side.
You both just laid there for a minute, holding each other and listening to the Foo Fighters. You were thinking about the first time you came into his room last summer when you parsed through his collection and found his array of CDs. You both talked about music for hours that night, until you finally kissed him. It was the first time the two of you had sex. And now, a whole year later, you were moving across the country for him.
Steven knocked on the door frame. “Sorry to break this up, lovebirds. We gotta grill Conrad.”
Conrad kissed your forehead and got up to help the boys out. You peered at him from the window as “See You” played. Jeremiah cracked a beer open, and the boys were joking around as Conrad flipped the chicken and some corn on the grill.
Someone knocked on the door, and you spun around. It was Belly, leaning against the frame. “Hey, Taylor and I were thinking about making margaritas in the kitchen. Do you want to join us?”
You smiled. “That’d be great.” You paused Conrad’s CD player and followed Belly down the stairs. Taylor was already standing near the kitchen island. She had bottles of tequila, triple sec, simple syrup and lime juice in front of her.
“Do we have some frozen strawberries left over?” Belly asked, as the two of you walked into the kitchen. “We should throw them in.”
“I’ll check,” you offered, turning immediately to the left and opening up the freezer. There was a small bag left, almost completely filled to the brim. You held it up in victory.
“Okay, let’s put two cups of that in the blender,” Taylor said.
“You know, I remember those batch of margaritas that you made like… five years ago?” you said. “That night was so much fun.”
“I’m surprised you remember it at all,” Belly said. “The rest of us do not.”
“Literally everyone blacked out except Conrad,” Taylor said.
“Conrad says he wasn’t that drunk, but he was pretty drunk,” you said. “I remember that because at one point, he tried to talk to me but kept losing track of our conversation. He does remember that we talked at that party, but could not tell you anything that was said.”
They both laughed. “That sounds like Conrad,” Belly said.
Taylor started pouring the tequila in the blender and jokingly mimicked, “Two shots of vodka.” You threw in some of the frozen strawberries, and Taylor finished the rest by adding the triple sec, simple syrup and lime juice. Belly jumped in to make sure the blender was sealed before they turned it on.
It took a few spins to make sure it was done, but once it was complete, Belly pulled out the margarita glasses from one of the top cabinets. She passed you two at a time, and you set them on the counter. Taylor was the one who poured the batch into the glasses.
Conrad came back in and gave you a quick peck. “We’re going to eat outside. Does that work for everyone?”
“That works,” Belly said.
“Conrad, we know that the reason you’re coming in is just so you can kiss your girlfriend,” Taylor teased. “It’s okay to admit it.”
Conrad threw up his hands. “Can you blame me?” He then noticed the batch of margaritas. “You guys have been busy in here.”
“Yeah, and we’re trying to have some quality girl time while you guys finish grilling, so shoo,” Taylor said, ushering Conrad out.
He laughed and then went back outside to grill with the boys. You picked up one of the glasses and took a sip.
“Good?” Taylor asked.
“Very,” you said, nodding your head. “I need like four of these.”
“Should we start taking the glasses outside? And then we can talk there?” Belly asked.
Taylor flashed her an incredulous look. “You really want to be closer to your ex-boyfriend? Or should I say, ex-boyfriends?”
“Taylor,” Belly scolded, looking over at you. “Sorry, I hope that’s not weird.”
You waved it off and meant it. “No, I don’t care. But like, yeah, are you good with Jeremiah?”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s all in the past,” Belly said. “We’ve talked about it a few times. Wait, did he say something?”
You shook your head. “He hasn’t said anything to me.” It wasn’t true, but you wanted to keep the peace and figured the fib would be better in the long run.
The three of you, each carrying two glasses, walked out to the backyard. Some of the food was done being grilled and was stacked on plates. Now, the boys were working on grilling skewers. You curled up in one of the chairs on the back deck, glancing at your boyfriend out of the corner of your eye. He looked happy as he chatted with Steven and Jeremiah. They each had a Corona in their hand. He met your eyes for a second, and you smiled at him.
“So, Y/N, is it weird not being in your parents house for the summer?” Belly asked.
You shook your head. “No, I mean, I still see them a lot. We’ve gone over for dinner a few times this week, and we might go on a boat with them next weekend. And I missed Conrad so much during the year, it’s nice to finally have some quality time with him.”
“Has it felt like a lover’s getaway this week?” Taylor asked. “Having the house all to yourselves?”
You giggled and blushed. “Okay, a little.”
“Things have been getting pretty serious with you guys,” Belly said. You felt like there was some meaning behind her statement, but you weren’t sure if you overthinking it after Jeremiah’s comment from earlier in the day. You decided to mentally brush it off.
You shrugged, still smiling. “I mean, yeah. I’m really happy with him. But… enough about boys. I want to hear about what your jobs are like.”
Belly was interning in Brown University’s athletics department for the summer, and Taylor was working in the communications department of the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. Both her and Steven were talking about potentially moving to New York City next year. Taylor said it was always her dream to live in the city and work for a magazine.
The boys walked over with the plates filled with food. Conrad and Jeremiah went inside to haul out two extra chairs, and some plates and silverware. Conrad set one of the chairs next to you and sat down. The six of you dug in. It felt like a family meal, and you were overjoyed to see the way Conrad was joking with Jeremiah, like there had never been any tension between the two of them.
***
After dinner was done, the six of you sat around the table for a bit, just chatting and sipping margaritas. You’d been tired after your day at the beach, so you called it a night early. Conrad was going to go up with you, but you insisted he stay downstairs and catch up with his family and friends.
You woke up briefly at 3 a.m. as he slightly stumbled into the bedroom. He leaned down and gave you a kiss on the forehead.
“Hey party boy,” you murmured, as he started to undress. You sat up and turned on his bedside table lamp, wincing a little as the light hit your eyes.
“Hey, hey, hey, go back to sleep,” Conrad whispered.
“No, it’s okay.” You rubbed your eyes. “How was it?”
“It was great. It felt like old times.” Conrad was smiling as he stripped down to his boxers. He climbed into the bed next to you. He pulled you close to him. “Do you want to spoon?” He always said that when he really wanted to be the big spoon, but wanted to act like it was your idea.
“Mmm yeah,” you said, shifting over to lay on your side. He tucked one arm right underneath your head, and the other wrapped around your waist. “How much did you drink?”
“I… kinda lost count.”
“Conrad Fisher being just a little irresponsible?” you teased. You rubbed one of your hands over his arm. “I’m glad. You needed to let loose. You’re too hard on yourself.”
He pressed a kiss on your cheek, and you both fell asleep.
***
The next three weeks went by normally. You and Conrad saw your family at least three times each week, as promised. The two of you would lounge around the house during the weekdays. When Steven, Jeremiah, Taylor and Belly came up on weekends, you all would drink a bunch and joke around. Sometimes, you would go out together to bars, before crashing at 2 a.m.
Things were starting to feel normal with Belly. You didn’t really catch her flashing glances at Conrad as often. You were happy to see the two of them bonding, just like they used to when they were little kids. Plus, you and Jeremiah were getting closer. You could tell Conrad was elated, after years of feeling so distant from his friends and family. You wanted nothing more for him.
But the peace didn’t last for long.
It had been a Saturday night. The house all decided to go out on a bar crawl in downtown Cousins, but you decided to go out separately with your friend Adelaide. She was in town for the weekend, and you desperately wanted to catch up with her. So, you went to a wine bar, while your boyfriend and the rest of the housemates went to a series of different dive bars.
You and Adelaide initially were going to go just to the wine bar, but one drink turned to three and then you decided to go out dancing. You texted Conrad updates of your location. At around 1:30 a.m., he texted you the group was on the way home.
You and Adelaide managed to stay out another hour, since you decided to get late night pizza together. You were back at the house at 2:30 a.m. You were still a little drunk from the glasses of wine as you walked in.
You quietly opened the door using the key that Conrad gave you, since you figured the rest of the house was asleep. You very gently closed it, trying to be discreet. But as you walked in, you realized you weren’t the only one that was awake. You heard Conrad’s voice in the kitchen.
“Belly, this is so fucking unfair,” he said. They were somehow both yelling and speaking in hushed tones. “You were the one who broke things off. You made out with my brother not even a month after we broke up!”
You froze by the doorway. You weren’t sure what to do. They were clearly having some intense argument that seemed private. Should you walk in and announce your presence, or just let them have their moment? You thought about spinning around and walking back outside to just wait it out a little longer.
“I know, okay. And it was all a mistake!” she said. “I’ve thought about it every day – thought about you almost every day. Even as I was in Paris, I was just thinking about how I always wanted to be there with you.”
Oh.
“Stop, just stop!” Conrad said. “You know I have a girlfriend. I don’t understand why the hell you’re even bringing this up now.”
“Because I’m fucking in love with you, Conrad! Because every single time I’m with you, I don’t want to be away from you.”
Your mind was racing. You could literally feel yourself shaking. You weren’t sure if it was anxiety, anger, or something else, but whatever the feeling was, it paralyzed you in the front entryway. They kept arguing.
“Belly, I was in love with you for fucking years. And you- you bringing this up now is so cruel. I’m not just some toy you can pick up and play with now that things are done with Jer.”
“That’s not what I’m doing, and I think you know that,” Belly said.
There was a pause in the conversation. You weren’t sure what was going on, so you ran into the kitchen. You were certain your eyes looked wild. Conrad had his hand over his face, and he was leaning against the kitchen island. Belly was standing right in front of him. She saw you immediately.
“Y/N,” she said. Her eyes were wide.
Conrad immediately snapped up. You could see his chest heaving. “Y/N-” he started.
But you cut him off. “Look, I don’t understand what the hell I just walked in on, but whatever it is, it needs to be done,” you said. You were gesturing a bit wildly with your hands, but you felt like you couldn’t really control yourself. “I’m not going to do this thing with you two where there’s some unresolved drama and I’m just getting dragged into the middle of it. So whatever this is, figure it out and be done with it.”
You started booking it toward the stairs before you could look at either of them a second longer. If you did, you might start crying. You knew part of it was the alcohol that was making your emotions feel out of control. But if anything, you just felt a sense of panic. Your mind was spinning too much to get a sense of control over it.
Conrad came running after you, and you spun around. “I need space,” you said. “Just please give me space for a second.” His shoulders and head dropped, but he nodded his head. Your heart broke seeing him defeated like that and knowing you were the cause, but if you spent another second around this environment – especially after drinking – you knew you would not handle it in a responsible way.
As you walked up the stairs, you saw Jeremiah peering out of his door, rubbing his eyes. “Y/N? What’s going on?” he asked. And for some reason, seeing Jeremiah Fisher made you finally break and start crying. He widened his eyes and wrapped his arms around you. “Okay, okay. What happened? What do you need?”
You shook your head. “I- They were talking downstairs, and I-” You couldn’t even finish the words. You could see the realization sink in through Jeremiah’s eyes.
“Fuck, Y/N, I’m sorry,” he said. He set his hands on both of your shoulders. “I didn’t drink tonight. Do you want to leave?” You paused, but then nodded your head. “Okay, I’ll get dressed. Meet me downstairs and I’ll get you to your parents house. Or we can go somewhere else if that’s what you need.”
You hiccuped. “O-okay.”
You started packing an overnight bag to go home, just of whatever clothes you could grab quickly. You jogged back down the stairs with your bag, and you overheard Jeremiah speaking now.
“You know, you guys have a lot of nerve right now dude,” Jeremiah said. “I don’t know what happened, but whatever you did clearly made Y/N upset.”
“Why do you always assume it’s my fault man?” Conrad replied. He let out a long breath, and his next words were spoken a little more evenly. “Look, she always forgets to take off her makeup after a long night out, so will you at least give her these?”
As you walked into the front entryway, you saw Conrad pass Jeremiah a single use pack of makeup wipes. He always kept a small one in his wallet since you started dating. He looked over at you as you stepped in. Belly was nowhere in sight.
“Hey,” Conrad said. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I know you need space right now, so I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
“Okay, thank you.” You paused. “I love you. I just- I need a second.” That seemed to give him some reassurance, since his shoulders relaxed slightly.
“You ready to go?” Jeremiah asked. You nodded your head. Conrad stuck his hands into his pockets, as he watched the two of you walk out the door.
You hopped into the passenger seat of Jeremiah’s red Jeep. You’d never been in the car before. You knew it had been Conrad’s at one point, years ago, but you and Conrad only had seen each other in passing at that point in your lives.
Jeremiah handed you the makeup wipe. You pulled down the sun visor mirror and almost gasped as you saw how your mascara was streaking down your face.
“You’re telling me I looked like this the entire time I was giving my dramatic ass goodbye to my boyfriend,” you said to Jeremiah. He laughed.
“Listen, I would’ve warned you before you walked down the stairs,” he said, throwing up his hands. You pulled out the wipe and started taking off your makeup. “So, where to? Parents? Somewhere else?”
“Parents,” you replied. “Thanks for doing this.”
He put the key in the ignition and started the car. “Of course, just tell me… where exactly should I be driving?”
You started giving Jeremiah directions over how to get to your parents house. It was only a 10 minute drive. As he pulled out of the front loop to the beach house, he asked, “So, do you want to talk about what happened? Or… are you not at that stage yet?”
You let out a long sigh. “When I got home tonight, I walked in on a conversation with Belly and Conrad. I guess, Belly confessed that she still had feelings for him, and he was telling her about how unfair it was of her to do that.” You huffed. “I don’t even know. I kind of stormed in and made a scene about it, and then I found you.”
“Well, what did you say?” he asked.
“I told them basically, I don’t know what the hell this is, but whatever it is, it needs to be done.” You shrugged. “I- I don’t know if I handled that well or what.”
“Well, you handled it better than I did,” he said. You glanced over at him. “I think last year I punched Conrad in the face at some point just because I was upset about him for telling Steven about Cabo.”
“I remember that.” Conrad had come home with a small bruise on his face, but brushed it off when you pried about it. You didn’t learn until about a day later that it was from Jeremiah. “I guess you get to say I told you so.”
“I meannnnn,” Jeremiah started, laughing a little, but ultimately, he shook his head. “Look, I don’t think some of the stuff I said on the beach is true. I don’t really think that Conrad is still in love with Belly. At least, not from what I’ve seen this summer. He hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you the entire time we’ve been here. And from what you’ve said, it sounds like he wasn’t telling Belly he was still into her or anything. It mostly sounds like he was trying to shut it down.”
“I know, I know,” you said, dropping your head a little. “It just was a lot tonight.”
“Hey, I get it,” he said. “Actually, I might be the only person in the house who gets it.”
You frowned. “I’m sure hearing all about this can’t be easy for you either.”
He sighed. “It’s… fine. At least, it’s a lot better than it used to be.” He finally pulled into the driveway in front of your parents’ house and parked the car. “Look, I think take the night, think it through, and if you want, I can come pick you back up tomorrow at like… 2?”
You nodded your head. “Let’s do that.”
***
In the morning, your parents were concerned when they saw you at the house. You didn’t really know how to explain, but you reassured them that things in between you and Conrad were fine. Instead, you lied and said that you drunkenly ordered an Uber to the wrong house. You could tell they didn’t really believe you, but they didn’t push on it.
You spent the day thinking about Conrad and what you heard in the kitchen. You felt a little more clearheaded about it now. If anything, you were mostly upset with Belly. She had been in the same house with you for weeks and listened to you talk excitedly about moving to California. Now, for her to confess her feelings to Conrad after all of that, felt diabolical.
Jeremiah showed up as promised at 2 p.m. He greeted you with a ginger ale as soon as you slid into the passenger seat. “Conrad said you always want a ginger ale the day after you drink wine,” he said.
“Well, he was right on that,” you said, as you popped open the can. “How is he doing?”
“Well, he won’t stop playing the guitar and doing his whole brooding thing,” he replied. “It’s actually kind of annoying. Let’s just say the house is very eager to have you back.”
“And what about Belly? Is she still around?”
Jeremiah shook his head. “She already headed back to Philly for the week. I don’t know if she’s going to come back for a bit.”
You nodded your head. By the time you got back to the house, Steven and Taylor were standing in the front entryway with their bags. They had been waiting for Jeremiah to get back so they could carpool back to Boston.
“Oh thank god you’re back,” Steven said as you stepped into the house. “We can’t take his singing anymore.”
“Seriously,” Taylor said.
“You’re going to be okay? Do you want any of us to stick around?” Jeremiah asked you. You shook your head.
“I’ll be fine. Thanks, Jer. Really,” you said.
Taylor hugged you goodbye first, then Steven. As he pulled away, he said to you, “I know it’s not my place, but Fisher really does like you. I hope you guys can work it out.” He clapped a hand on your back as he headed out the door. “I hope I’ll see you next weekend, Y/N.”
The three of them cleared out, and you could hear the strumming of a guitar from up the stairs. You started walking to Conrad’s room, and you heard his voice gently sing down the hall, “I wasn’t quite prepared. Doll me up in my bad luck.” You leaned against the doorway as he kept strumming and singing. He had been approaching the end of the song when he spotted you. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Hey Conrad,” you said, as he set his guitar off to the side.
“You’re home,” he said. He was sizing you up with his eyes, almost as if he didn’t believe you were there. Your heart wrenched as you looked at him. You could tell he didn’t sleep much last night from the faint circles around his eyes. You strode over to him, slid into his lap and wrapped your arms around him.
He froze when you first touched him, but after a beat, he wrapped his arms around you too and pulled you in as much as he could. He buried his head in your neck. “I missed you,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come back.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I always planned to. I- I just got freaked out.” You leaned back, and he set his hands just on your waist. “It was a lot last night.”
“I know, I know,” he said, squeezing your sides. “And I told her no. I told her I love you. I need you to know that – that I love you.”
You nodded your head. “I did know that, I just- I don’t know. Hearing her say all of that, I just got so scared. And I guess in my head I thought all of that was done so long ago, I was surprised to hear her bring it back up.”
“And it was done – for me at least. I meant that when I said it to you last summer. You’re the person I want to move forward with.”
You eyed him for a second. “I need you to be honest with me. Is there any part of you – even if it’s small – that still thinks of her romantically?”
“Absolutely not,” he said. “It’s done. And like I said, I told her that last night. The only person I want is you.”
You nodded your head again, soaking in his words. “I’m sorry I caused such a scene and ran out.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize to me for. I’m sorry you had to hear all that.” You rested your head on his shoulders, and his hand started to stroke the back of your head. “It’s not going to happen again, okay? You’re my girl. I wasn’t joking earlier this summer when I said I want to marry you.”
You lifted your head up. “Good, because I’ve kind of gotten really excited about being Mrs. Fisher one day.” He grinned, and you leaned down and kissed him. “I love you, Conrad.”
“I love you. Only you.”
Conrad Fisher x ex!fem!reader | part 2 part 3 this story is set in the Oceans Universe. Check chronology before reading.
Summary: When Conrad calls you from Cousins Beach, you expect a catch-up. Instead, he tells you Belly and Jeremiah just showed up engaged. What starts as a late-night FaceTime turns into sixteen years of friendship unraveling: old wounds, unspoken love, and the sting of realising he still hasn’t let go of her… and maybe never will.
Warnings/tags: angst, season 3 spoilers, Conrad doesn't know what he wants, mild swearing if you squint, English is not my first language
Word count: 4.2k
╭┈┈┈┈┈┈╯ 𓆉 𓇼 ╰┈┈┈┈┈┈╮
The beach house looked the same from the outside as it always had, but the moment Conrad stepped inside, it felt different. Four summers had passed since you were last here with him—the last one before you left for New York. Until now, he hadn’t realised how much the house had become a place that only existed in his memory, polished and softened by time like a piece of sea glass.
The first few days had been calm. Quiet mornings. Coffee on the porch. The endless rhythm of the ocean filling in the jagged edges of a life that had been all sharp corners ever since med school began. For the first time in a long time, it felt like he could breathe again.
Until today.
Jeremiah and Belly had shown up unannounced and engaged. Engaged. And now Belly was staying in the house.
The place suddenly felt much too small.
Later, after everyone had retreated to their own corners, Conrad shut himself in his room. The night pressed close around the windows, the only light the pale glow of his laptop on the desk. He sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, and hit FaceTime.
The screen flickered, and then there you were. Hair pulled back in a messy bun, a faint streak of dried paint on the collar of an old T-shirt. Behind you, the walls of your apartment were soft gallery white, and somewhere beyond the glass he could hear the hum of the city—muffled, like a heartbeat.
“Hey,” you said, a slow, surprised smile tugging at your lips when you saw him. “You look… stressed. Bad day?”
“You have no idea,” he answered, leaning back against the wall.
Your brows knit together, your eyes sharpening with concern. “What happened?”
He let out a long breath, dragging a hand over his face. “They showed up.”
“Who?”
“Jeremiah,” he said, pausing as if the next word might hit harder if he said it too fast. “And Belly.”
You straightened, folding your legs beneath you. “Wait. What? Why are they there?”
“They’re engaged,” he said. Saying it out loud still sounded absurd. “They came because Belly had a huge fight with her mom. So she’s staying.”
The call went quiet, except for the faint hiss of city noise coming through on your side.
You blinked slowly, each word settling like a stone. “Engaged,” you repeated, as if saying it might help you believe it.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. He never got to tell you after that stunt they pulled off at the diner.
You just stared at him for a long moment. He saw the crease form between your brows, the small tightness in your mouth as you thought.
“And you’re okay with that?” you asked finally. Your voice was steady, but there was something simmering under it.
A dry laugh escaped him, humourless. He tilted his head back against the wall, meeting your eyes through the screen.
“I honestly don’t know what I’m supposed to feel right now,” he admitted. “So tell me, what do you think I should do?”
You shook your head, exhaling sharply. “Shit. Are you serious? Belly and Jeremiah? Engaged? They’re kids.”
He could see you trying to process it, to make sense of something that didn’t make sense.
“Well,” you said after a moment, “are you going to stay there or fly back to California? What about that summer job at the clinic? There’s no way you can just go back?” You hesitated, then added quietly, “I know you lost it on your first day. With Steven’s accident and all.”
Conrad’s mouth curved faintly despite himself. Even now, you still had a way of cutting straight to the heart of things. You always had.
He let out another breath. The truth was, he had a flight booked for Saturday. But after today? He wasn’t sure he even wanted to be on it.
“I don’t even know anymore,” he admitted, fingers raking through his hair.
You studied him on the screen. At least this time, for once, you were in the same time zone. When he’d been in California and you in New York, catching each other had been harder. Or maybe it just felt hard because most of the time, he hadn’t answered.
“And that engagement…” you began, shaking your head. “How do you feel about it? Because, let’s be honest—it’s ridiculous. They’re kids. Didn’t you tell me Jere has to repeat a semester? And he owes your dad twenty grand? It’s insane.”
Conrad’s jaw tightened, a muscle flickering in his cheek. He knew it was stupid, reckless. And hearing you say it made it all too real. Like you were giving shape to the very thoughts he’d been trying to bury all afternoon.
He sighed, shoulders heavy. You always saw right through him.
“Connie, baby, c’mon. Talk to me,” you said as you moved from one room of your apartment to another, phone in hand.
Her words—your voice—washed over him like a tide. He hated how much just hearing you say his name could undo him.
He looked up, the screen’s blue light painting his face. You were in your pyjamas now, hair loose around your shoulders. Just looking at you eased something in his chest, even as everything else tightened.
“It’s just… it’s a mess, ” he said finally, the words tumbling out. “They’re kids. They don’t know what they’re doing. And Jeremiah—he’s barely getting his life together. He doesn’t even have a job.”
He paused, swallowing hard.
“And then there’s… Belly.”
The name caught in his throat, and you stiffened slightly. “Yeah, there’s Belly,” you echoed. “Belly, who’s now going to be staying alone with you in that house for God knows how long,” you added, raising a brow.
You didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Conrad’s jaw tightened again, hearing exactly what you weren’t saying.
Belly, with those brown eyes and that familiar laugh. Belly, who had been his best friend’s little sister. Belly, who—
He forced a humourless laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”
“Very funny,” you shot back, your expression flat. “It’s completely fine that your ex-girlfriend is right there with you, all alone. Ex-girlfriend who will be in love with you forever, no matter if she marries your brother or not.”
Your words struck something deep, and he hated the bitterness laced in your tone.
He raked a hand through his hair, frustration rippling through him. “You can’t seriously think—”
“Are you trying to bullshit yourself or me right now?” you cut him off, brow arched. You propped your phone up on the nightstand, climbed into bed with your laptop and a bowl of mac and cheese, still watching him.
He shut his mouth, staring at you, guilt twisting inside him.
“I’m not trying to bullshit anyone, especially not you,” he said finally.
“Look,” you said, stabbing at the pasta with your fork, “all I’m saying is that she will always be in love with you, and everybody knows it. Probably even Jere knows it, and they’re engaged. He’s back in Boston, doing that internship for your dad, and she’s there—alone with you. That’s all I’m saying.”
Conrad’s jaw tightened again. He hated that you were right.
“So what, you think I’m just gonna… hook up with her?” he asked, trying not to sound defensive.
“I think you’re too selfless to do that to Jere,” you replied, sliding your glasses on and opening your laptop. “But I do think you’d be more than willing to hook up with her if the situation were different.” The bitterness in your voice slipped out before you could stop it.
The tension between you thickened with every word. You’d never believed much in the so-called change he’d claimed over the years, and the sting of that was something he felt all over again now.
“You think you know me so well, don’t you?” he said, sharper than he intended.
You scoffed. “Oh, please. Are we really doing this? Is this high school all over again?” Your gaze flicked back to the screen. “Connie, all I’m saying is that… we both know the truth, whether you want to admit it or not. And you’re asking me what you’re supposed to do about Belly.” Your voice cracked slightly. “I just think it’s unfair. Out of line.”
Conrad’s eyes narrowed. The implication that he still had feelings for Belly—feelings that weren’t for you.
“Out of line,” he echoed, his voice tight. “You think talking to you about my ex-girlfriend is out of line? Even though we’re not together anymore?”
“Yes,” you said flatly. “It’s unfair to me. It’s uncomfortable. Especially when I’m in a whole different city, doing something completely separate from this.”
His jaw tightened again, anger flaring, guilt following close behind.
“So you expect me to just… not talk to you about it?” he asked.
“Oh my god…” You dragged a hand over your face. “Fine. Tell me, straight up, what you want to do about it?” You set the laptop and bowl aside and stared directly into the camera. “You see her for the first time in two years, she’s engaged to your brother who’s gone for a week, leaving you alone with her in that house. What does Conrad Fisher do? Tell me.”
Conrad sagged back against the headboard. The truth was simple but impossible.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice rough. “Honestly? I don’t know.”
Seeing Belly again had shaken him more than he cared to admit. He’d spent four years burying his feelings for her, but seeing her now—all those old feelings came rushing back.
And you could see it. You could see it all over his face. And it hurt. Because you knew then, with painful clarity, that it wasn’t you. It never was.
“My advice? Stay away from her unless you want to lose your brother,” you said coldly, turning back to your laptop.
Conrad’s chest tightened at the iciness in your tone. It stung more than he expected.
“Why did you call me?” you asked suddenly, still typing. The words came out low, pained. “Do you have any idea how happy I was when I saw your name on my screen? And of all things, we end up talking about her.”
He sank into himself, all the fight gone. “Because I needed to hear you,” he said finally, raw honesty in his voice. “I needed to hear your voice.”
Your fingers stilled on the keyboard. For a moment you just sat there, staring at the screen, throat tight.
“Well, you heard it,” you said after a moment, softer now. “You heard my opinion. And now what?”
Conrad dragged a hand down his face. “And now I try desperately to ignore the fact that Belly being here makes me feel things I shouldn’t feel.”
You nodded, eyes fixed on your laptop. “If this was just awkward, I’d fly there,” you said. “Like the good friend I am. But this? This isn’t just awkward. It’s because you still have feelings for her. And that? I can’t help you with.”
The word “friend” hit him like a punch.
“You’re really going to pull the friend card right now?” he asked, his voice rough.
“Isn’t that what I’ve been for sixteen years?” you said bitterly. “The best friend. That’s all I’ve ever been.”
His jaw clenched. He inhaled deeply, forcing down his frustration.
“It’s not all you’ve ever been.”
You clicked your tongue. “That was the past. And now, after four years, we’re here, talking about Belly again. It’s pathetic.” You closed your laptop sharply. “It’s pathetic for me, don’t you think?”
He sagged, the anger draining out of him. “Pathetic?” he repeated, quietly. “Is that really how you see me?”
“Connie, baby, not everything revolves around you,” you said softly, your voice flat. “I see myself that way. Pathetic that I’m still sitting here talking about this with you when I really, really don’t want to.”
His chest tightened, words failing him. He wanted to tell you that you weren’t pathetic. That you were everything. Strong and beautiful and always so far out of his league, it was almost comical. But he couldn’t get the words out.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally, the words low, raw.
You stayed quiet for a long moment before you finally whispered, “Sometimes I wonder if all those memories and plans we made as kids even matter anymore. I can’t remember the last time I saw you. And the fact that you call me for this and not to check in… It tells me exactly how you feel about me now.”
Conrad felt the air leave his lungs. Guilt pooled in his chest, heavy and suffocating.
“I… I didn’t mean for it to get like this,” he said softly. “You’re still the closest person to me.”
“Doesn’t feel like it. Hasn’t felt like that in a long time,” you said quietly, your voice steadier than you felt. “And I get it. You left for California and cut yourself off from everybody for your own good. And I’m happy for you, Connie. I really am. I’m proud that you’re growing, that you’re healing, that med school is everything you wanted it to be.”
For a moment your lips trembled, the strength in your voice wavering. “But I don’t… know who you are anymore. I don’t know you, Connie. I don’t know the person I spent most of my life with. And it feels… awful.”
The words sliced through him like cold steel.
Until now, Conrad hadn’t realised the full cost of his silence. He had been so focused on keeping himself afloat, on surviving med school, on burying his own pain, that he hadn’t stopped to consider what his absence had done to the people who mattered most—especially you.
Guilt churned in his chest, bitter and sharp, as he stared at you on the screen. The sadness etched across your face, the hurt in your eyes, was worse than anything he could have imagined.
He opened his mouth, but the words stuck like stones in his throat. What could he possibly say to fix something like this? Could he even fix it?
“Y/N…” he started, but no more came out.
“I just wish you checked in on me the way I do from time to time,” you said, glancing at him through the screen, your voice quieter now, almost fragile. “And not just call me about your ex-girlfriend.” You let out a small, humourless laugh that sounded more like a crack in glass. “Because, flash news, baby—I’m an ex too.”
You paused, your next words a whisper. “And I bet you don’t talk to Belly about me. I bet you don’t talk to anyone about me. It’s like I stopped existing.”
The breath left his lungs like a punch.
The way your voice wavered broke something in him.
He felt like the world’s biggest asshole, because you were right. You had been right all along.
Conrad dropped his gaze, unable to meet your eyes through the screen.
“You’re not an ex,” he said finally, his voice low, gruff, almost desperate. “You’re… you. You’re my best friend.”
You swallowed hard, your jaw clenching as you nodded slowly. “I’m just… me. Good to know. So you have ex-girlfriends—and then there’s me. Just me,” you said, shaking your head, disbelief flashing in your eyes. “Do you know how humiliating that sounds? How belittling it feels?”
Conrad’s chest tightened.
“I… I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, voice raw. “You’re more than just ‘you.’ You’re—”
But the sentence died in his throat. Because how do you explain that someone has always been everything when you’ve made them feel like nothing?
You gave him no time to find the words.
“I’m gonna tell you who I am, Conrad,” you said, straightening a little as your voice turned sharp, every word trembling but full of fire. “I’m the invisible best friend. I’m the forgotten ex-girlfriend. I’m the person you call to talk about another ex—the one you’re still in love with.”
You blinked back the tears threatening to spill as you kept going.
“I’m someone who’s been there for you for sixteen years. And in return? You don’t bother to call unless I do first. Or now—when you need to talk about Belly.”
Every word hit like a hammer.
“And I’m someone who’s been chasing a ghost for the past four years. Hoping, stupidly hoping, that maybe one day things would go back to normal. That maybe one day I’d have you back. But tonight? This whole thing just proves that I was wrong. I over-calculated my chances. I have work in the morning. So goodnight.”
And before he could respond, the screen went black.
Conrad sat frozen, staring at his own reflection in the dark glass of his phone.
The silence that followed was crushing.
It settled over him like a heavy blanket, suffocating, filling his lungs with guilt and shame until he couldn’t breathe.
He’d messed up. Badly.
The weight of everything you had said pressed down on him, suffocating and relentless.
I’m the invisible best friend.
The forgotten ex-girlfriend.
The person you call to talk about another ex.
The words replayed on an endless loop, each repetition cutting deeper.
He pressed a hand to his eyes, the guilt burning hot behind them.
How had he let it get this far?
He thought of every missed call, every unanswered text, every opportunity to check in that he had let slip by. Four years of silence that had built a wall between you so high, he didn’t know if he could ever tear it down.
He thought of your laugh. The way you used to make fun of him until his stomach hurt. The nights you’d talk until the sun rose. The way you always seemed to know what to say, always seemed to understand him, even when he didn’t understand himself.
And he had ruined it.
All of it.
He had been selfish, so wrapped up in his own pain and fear that he’d blinded himself to what you needed from him.
And in the process, he’d lost the one person who had always been there for him.
The one person who had never left.
Conrad leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his fingers tangled in his hair as the guilt rolled over him in crushing waves.
He had been terrified of feeling pain again. But tonight, as he sat alone in the dark, he realised that losing you hurt worse than anything he had ever been afraid of.
How the hell was he supposed to fix this?
Could he fix this?
Or was this the moment he’d finally lost you for good?
————————————————————————
The next day began already sour.
You woke up to chaos: your alarm hadn’t gone off, your coffee spilled across the counter like an act of betrayal, and then traffic locked you in place for nearly an hour, leaving you with nothing but the thrum of engines and your own thoughts. By the time you finally reached the gallery, your mood was hanging by a thread.
Last night had poisoned the whole day before it even started.
The knowledge that Conrad was under the same roof as Belly—that after all this time he was still uncertain, still torn—burned inside you like acid. It wasn’t just about Belly. It was about being reminded, in one terrible phone call, that no matter what history you and Conrad shared, she was still the ghost he couldn’t shake.
And the fact that he’d called you only to talk about it?
Humiliating.
Pathetic.
You were angry.
So when, just past noon, a man came into the gallery holding a bouquet of flowers, you assumed there had been some mistake. You weren’t expecting deliveries.
“Miss Y/L/N?” he asked, double-checking the note.
Your brows knit together as you signed for them.
The blooms were exquisite—your favourites. A riot of colour, soft and fragrant, standing out against the sterile white of the gallery walls.
Tucked between the stems was a card.
“I’m not asking for forgiveness. I just want you to know that I’m truly sorry.
—C”
Your fingers clenched on the paper until it bent. For a moment you wanted to throw the entire bouquet into the trash, as if that would erase the ache in your chest. Almost.
But you didn’t.
You said nothing. You didn’t text him. You didn’t tell him the flowers had come or that they were beautiful. Because they were beautiful, and that made it worse. You were too hurt.
Conrad spent the entire day staring at his phone like it was the only thing tethering him to earth.
He wanted to call. He wanted to say something—anything—to fix what he had broken. But he knew you needed space.
So he waited.
He checked the screen every few minutes, hoping, praying, for a message from you.
But nothing came.
As the hours dragged on, doubt began its slow creep.
What if she hates me now?
What if she never forgives me?
By the late afternoon, those doubts had transformed into certainties. He had convinced himself that the last four years had erased whatever you and he had been to each other.
That he’d lost you for good.
He went through the motions of the day in a haze—answering a few texts, eating lunch he couldn’t taste, pushing himself through surfing, responding to emails—but every thought circled back to you.
————————————————————————
When you finally made it back to your apartment, you stripped off your gallery clothes and threw on something soft, something that didn’t pinch or squeeze. You painted for a while, hoping the colours would pull your thoughts into a quieter place, but even the paintbrush couldn’t fully distract you.
By dinner, the flowers had already been brought home. They sat on your nightstand now, their scent delicate in the air, mocking you.
It hurt.
It hurt because Conrad was showing up, just as he always did. Because it only ever took one moment of you telling him exactly how deeply he had hurt you for him to do something. Not talk. Never words. Just gestures.
And gestures were sometimes worse.
You sighed, grabbed your phone, and opened your messages.
Y/N: Thanks for the flowers.
Simple. Bare. Practical. It was all you had the strength for.
Conrad’s heart almost leapt out of his chest when the notification finally appeared.
You had answered.
It was short, cold—just like you had been the night before. But it was something.
He opened your message and read it over and over, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. He deleted and retyped three different replies, none of them good enough.
Every word felt wrong. Too much or too little.
Finally, after agonising minutes, he settled on the safest thing he could think of:
Connie: You’re welcome.
You stared at the reply for a long moment, your phone balanced in your hand.
Was this how it was going to be from now on? Polite. Short. Stripped of everything you used to be?
You couldn’t reconcile it—the boy you had grown up with, the boy who had been your everything—with the man who could only manage “you’re welcome.”
The same boy who had held your hand in the rain. The same boy who kissed you like the whole world had disappeared.
Now you were just this. Words on a screen.
Belly had taken the rest.
You swallowed the ache and typed before you could stop yourself.
Y/N: Did you figure out what to do?
Conrad’s chest tightened as he read those words.
Of all the things you could have asked him, this was the one that made him feel like the smallest man alive.
He didn’t want to lie. But the truth was just as bad.
After a long pause, he answered.
Connie: Not yet. Not yet.
The message stung when you read it.
The fact that it was even a question—the fact that Belly was still, after all these years, an unresolved thing in his heart—was unbearable.
Your eyes prickled with tears you refused to let fall.
Why couldn’t it be you?
Why didn’t he fight for you the way he still seemed to fight against Belly?
You wanted to ask. You wanted to scream it.
But you didn’t. You couldn’t.
Y/N: I see. Goodnight.
Conrad’s world collapsed around two small words.
I see.
They were cold. Final.
He stared at the screen long after the conversation ended, until the glow dimmed and the phone went black.
He fell back on his pillow, the ceiling blurring as he blinked back the tears that came anyway.
“What have I done,” he whispered to the empty room.
Alone in the dark, Conrad thought about your laugh, your smile, your voice. He thought about your touch—the one thing that always brought him back to himself.
And he cried.
Silent, desperate, aching sobs that no one could hear.
Because for the first time, he truly believed he had lost you.
╭┈┈┈┈┈┈╯ 𓆉 𓇼 ╰┈┈┈┈┈┈╮
EDIT: PART 2 IS UP. READ HERE
PART 3 READ HERE
A/N: Here's this small piece. I may or may not have part 2 brewing, but tell me if you want one :)
Summary: A few nights before Belly and Jeremiah’s wedding, all Conrad can think of is his own greatest love - the one that got away, and the one that finds her way back to him.
Author’s Note: Hope y’all enjoy!! Am in the process of writing TWTW chapter three but this is just in the meantime whilst im still not totally happy with the new chapter hehe
“Okay, sorry, so let me get this straight,” Anika narrows her eyes, “You and Conrad dated for… two years?”
“Almost two, yeah.”
“And you broke up when he moved to California,” She continues, “And you haven’t seen him since then?”
“That’s right,” You sigh, dragging a brush through your hair.
“How is that possible?” She exclaims, hitting her hands against her legs to emphasise her point.
“Well, I moved to New York, he moved to California, he didn’t come home much and I guess neither did I,” You explain, “When we were dating we were both in Cousins, and then he was in Boston and I was in Cousins, and then he went to Brown for his first year of college and we were still together… but then he moved to Stanford and, I don’t know, the distance just didn’t work.”
“Isn’t it going to be weird to see him again?”
“I don’t know,” You shrug, readjusting your bikini as you stand in front of the mirror, “It wasn’t like some big angry break up, we just distanced, and we called and agreed that it was over.”
“What?!” Anika gasps, “After two years you ended it over the phone?”
“Correction,” You point your hairbrush in her direction, “He ended it.”
“And you were okay with that?”
“Well, it was mutual. He was just the one that said it,” You shrug, “Come on, you’re acting like this is the worst thing in the world, it’s been like almost four years now, we’ll just be… friends.”
“Girls!” Belly appears at the doorway, “The guys are back! And they have drinks.”
You were in Cousins this week for Belly and Jeremiah’s wedding. You’d grown up with your parents owning the house next to the Fisher’s in Cousins, meaning you spent your summers with the boys and the Conklins whenever you got the chance. You’d always been friends. And then, the Christmas before Conrad went to college, the two of you started dating. You dated through that summer, through year when he went to Brown, through everything that happened when he lost his Mom, the summer that followed, all up until he went to California and you went to college in New York. And suddenly this relationship that you thought was indestructible felt more fragile than ever. You didn’t communicate, your conversations were fragmented, it felt like neither of you had anything to say. And so it ended. It was easy to be distracted - college and New York and friends and things to keep you busy. Now, being back in Cousins, it all seemed to be hitting you like a wave. And soon, you’d be seeing him again. You felt four years younger, and every wall you’d built over those years now felt fragile and crumbling.
“Hey, are you coming?” Belly looks over to you, dressed in a white bikini with a veil hung over her hair.
“Yes, yeah, I’m coming,” You smile brightly, hurrying over to her and looping your arm with hers, “Let’s get this bachelorette started!”
You can already hear the bustle of the crowd growing downstairs - Taylor complaining at the guys for not getting enough seltzers, Steven arguing that they’d not bought enough snacks.
“You must be Conrad.”
It’s Anika who speaks the words, introducing herself to him.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s nice to meet you.”
At the sound of his voice, your feet falter on the steps, gripping the handle to stop yourself from tripping. Belly continues down ahead of you, oblivious to the way your heart twisted at the simplest words.
You take a deep breath, walking around the stairs and into the kitchen where the guys are unloading the bags of groceries.
Jeremiah grins when he sees you, stepping over and looping an arm around your shoulders, “Oh, guys, this is our friend from Cousins, the girl I was telling you about-“
“(Y/n).”
Conrad breathes out the word, like the air had been knocked from his lungs. Like your name wanted to linger on his tongue for just a moment longer.
Your eyes fall on him across the room, your lips parting but no words coming to mind.
He looked more handsome than ever - like he’d matured into his features. His eyes still just as piercing, his cheekbones defined. His shoulders seemed broader, his skin all the more sun kissed. You couldn’t explain it - he was every bit the man you’d known and every bit someone new.
“Hey! It’s nice to meet you!” A tall, brunette guy comes up in front of you, “I’m Redbird.”
“Redbird,” You repeat, clearing your throat, “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too, I’ve heard a lot about you,” He grins, replacing Jeremiah’s arm with his own around your shoulders, “Let’s get you a drink.”
“Oh, um, sure,” You smile politely, “Just a beer please.”
“My kind of girl,” Another boy grins at you from across the kitchen island, “I’m Blake.”
You can feel his eyes on you. Burning into you. Like he was having to convince himself that you were actually there. For the first time in almost a four years the two of you were in the same place at the same time. The last time you’d been like this was when you were saying goodbye to each other before you moved - together, happy, hopeful. Now wasn’t even remotely similar. Everything had changed in those four years. And yet somehow it felt like the two of you were back to everything normal.
“Alright, let’s take these drinks outside! We’ve got games to play!” Taylor encourages, ushering everybody towards the yard.
Within seconds, the boys are distracted, disappearing out into the yard with Belly, Taylor and Anika. And just like that, it’s you and him.
You go to the drawer to find a bottle opener for your beer.
“Oh I think they-“ Conrad pauses, “They took it with them.”
You purse your lips together, turning back to face him, “Of course they did.”
The two of you are silent for a moment, you looking anywhere but at him, him solely looking at you. You looked different now too. You’d matured - body, face, soul. Your hairstyle had changed but the color remained the same.
“Well, I should head out before-“
As you go to walk past him, Conrad reaches to grab your arm, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, pulling you to him.
“Sorry,” He quickly drops it, “I just-“
You turn to look at him, swallowing as the two of you stand mere inches from each other.
“I just…” Conrad shakes his head, “Come on, we haven’t seen each other in forever.”
“Yeah, um,” You drag a hand through your hair, “I’m sorry, I just feel like this is awkward right?”
He chuckles, “I’m glad you think so too.”
In the moment, you realise this didn’t need to be as big as it felt. It was just you seeing Conrad after so long apart. It was just you seeing an old friend. Someone you’d missed.
“Come here,” You reach up onto your toes and wrap your arms around him, your chin resting on his shoulder.
He holds you tightly, his arms around your back, hands splayed across your bare skin around your bikini. You feel yourself relax into the touch, like your body re-molds itself to him as soon as you’re in his arms.
You pull away first.
“God, how longs it been?” You half-laugh, “Too long, right?”
“Almost four years,” Conrad scratches at the back of his neck, “Too long.”
The last time he’d seen you, he could have kissed you. Now, he had to fight every instinct in him to not.
“I feel like I should be asking you how you‘ve been or something,” You laugh, “But I don’t know how to ask that when I’m asking about the last four years of your life.”
Conrad laughs, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his swimming shorts, “I’ve been good, yeah. Still in California. Still not a doctor yet.”
“Well, four years closer than you were when I last saw you,” You joke, wincing a little at your own words, “Is that harsh?”
“No, no, it’s true,” He chuckles, “And you? Still in New York, right?”
“Are you stalking me Conrad Fisher?”
“Your Mom keeps me updated,” He nods, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“My Mom?!” You grimace, “She still talks to you?”
“Yeah, yeah, pictures and everything. I actually got your family photos from last Christmas, they’re still on my phone if you want to-“
“Okay, okay, okay,” You push your hand into his chest gently, halting his words, “I think I’ve heard enough.”
He places his hand over yours, steadying himself. His eyes are on you, his hand still touching yours. Until the moment he clears his throat and the two of you are brought back to reality.
“I just…” You shake your head, dragging the hand that had been on his chest through your hair as if needing to find a way to keep it away from him, “I didn’t know what to expect. Seeing you again, you know?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, I felt the same.”
“But, come on, it’s been a long time, we’re both adults,” You take a deep breath, “We’re here for the wedding, we can be friends.”
“Friends,” Conrad repeats, “Of course.”
You sounded so sure of it. So why did your chest clench a little to hear him say the word back to you?
You walk out after that, certain you couldn’t spend any longer alone with him for now. Baby steps.
Conrad remains. Frozen in the spot he’d been in when you hugged him. His hands flex as if they’re unsure of what to do in the absence of you. Friends? He wasn’t sure he knew where to start.
———
Taylor and Conrad had separately organised the parties for that night, and everyone plans to head out at the same time. You offered to drive the girls, Conrad offered to drive the guys - always creatures of habit, always the first to offer to be responsible.
You were wearing a black mini dress and an oversized red leather jacket with black boots. Belly was just finishing her hair in the mirror, checking that it still curled well.
“So, I overheard something today,” She begins, setting down her curling iron to look over at you.
You turn around, dropping down onto the end of her mattress, “What did you overhear?”
“Well, Blake said that maybe he was interested in you,” She explains, “He mentioned it to Jere, about maybe asking you out whilst both of you were in town?”
“Blake?” You raise your brows, “Well, I’m flattered.”
“So… would you be interested?”
“I-“ You pause, chewing on the inside of your cheek, “I don’t know Belly…”
“He’s actually a really nice guy I promise! He’s funny and he’s sweet and he-“
“It’s not that,” You assure her, “It’s not that.”
She turns around in her chair to face you, “Do you… are things weird with seeing Conrad again?”
Your lips part to speak but you pause again before any words come out, “I don’t know, we spoke a little earlier. But just really to say hi again. We both agreed things felt awkward, and then we just agreed to be friends.”
“Isn’t it weird? You haven’t seen each other since you split up! In fact, you didn’t even see each other when you split up,” Belly shakes her head, “I can’t even imagine.”
“Yeah, it’s just as weird and awkward and strange as you’d expect,” You laugh, “But, come on, it’s been literally years! Conrad’s an attractive guy, he’s probably already seeing someone new.”
“He isn’t,” Belly confirms, “I already asked.”
You grab a cushion from her bed and toss it in her direction, “Belly!”
“I wanted to know!” She laughs, “Come on, you did too.”
“He’s seriously not seeing anyone?”
“Nope,” She shakes her head, “He said he had ‘no interest in dating’.”
“Yeah, well, he’s human, that will only last so long,” You stand up from her bed, “I appreciate you asking and all… but Conrad and I are a thing of the past.”
She raises her hands as if submitting to defeat, “Whatever you say. So you wouldn’t mind if Blake asked you out?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m real desperate for one of your fiancés frat bros to sweep me off my feet,” You laugh, sarcasm laced on your words.
“As far as frat bros go, they’re not the worst.”
“If you say so, Bells,” You shake your head, “Now, finish getting ready - we’ve got a bachelorette party to start.”
———
The first bar you go to ends up being with everyone - Belly and Jere certain that they wanted to at least spend some of the night together. It’s crowded in there, bodies pushing against bodies. You and Conrad are the last to walk in, both parking the cars whilst everyone else had headed inside.
“Hey, I think they’re over by that wall,” You turn around to Conrad at the door, shouting over the music for him to hear you.
“I’m right behind you,” He shouts back, the two of you embarking through the crowd.
As if on instinct, his hand settles onto your back to guide the two of you through. It’s subtle, simple, and yet you’re sure in the moment it feels like all those years ago when you and him were you and him. You both make it through the crowd until you break into where the rest of the group stood.
“Hey!” Taylor grins when she sees you, “There you are!”
“Here I am,” You smile, returning her hug, “Can I get you guys some drinks?”
“Ooooh I won’t say no to another,” Belly grins, swinging an empty shot glass in front of you.
You laugh, taking it from her, “Tequilas?”
They cheer in some form of agreement and you laugh, making your way over to the bar.
“Hey!” You lean over the bar to speak to the bartender, “Can I get three tequila shots and a water please?”
“Make that ten shots, and six beers,” An all too familiar voice calls over you, “And another water, please.”
You turn around and see Conrad stood behind you.
“Let me get this round.”
You smile, leaning back against the bar, “Gladly, I don’t plan on buying any drinks for your frat bro bachelors.”
“Correction - my brother’s frat bro bachelors,” He points out.
“Right, right,” You nod, “So you didn’t move into a frat house in the past four years, good to know.”
“No frat house,” He shakes his head, “Did you become an ‘upper east sider’ since you moved to New York?”
You laugh outwardly, “I live in a flat share in Brooklyn, no fifth avenue for me.”
He nods, saying something inaudible against the music.
You shake your head to tell him you haven’t heard. And he leans down, gently, his hand on your waist with caution.
“It feels like we haven’t changed,” He says, his words warm and sincere spoken to close to your ear.
“I don’t know about that,” You say back into his ear, your hand on his shoulder to keep him close to you, “I don’t feel like I did at nineteen.”
“You know what I mean,” Conrad returns, “You’re still… you.”
You pull away from him, your lips parting to speak just as the bartender sets a full tray down onto the bar. Conrad thanks him and lifts the tray, turning towards the group and walking over. You follow behind, dragging a hand through your hair once more as if reminding yourself to return to reality. This wasn’t four years ago.
———
After the first bar, the two groups go their separate ways. You end up in a karaoke bar with the girls, listening to one group sing an out of tune, out of time attempt at a Kelly Clarkson song. You have a table in one corner, with Taylor going through a list of options for the girls to sing. Every song she suggested was one that Anika hated and every one Anika suggested seemed to evoke the same hatred from Taylor.
“Okay forget about the song for a second,” Anika waves off Taylor, “I have a question for you.”
She points a finger in your direction.
“What was going on with you and Conrad at the bar?”
“Wh-“ You adjust your jacket around your shoulders, “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“We were just talking, it’s hard to hear each other in there you know?” You shrug, taking a sip of your water, “Just talking.”
“Right, of course,” She narrows her eyes at you, “I don’t believe you.”
“Did Blake speak to you?” Belly leans in beside you.
You frown, shaking your head, “I figured you told him not to, he didn’t say anything to me.”
She furrows her brows, “That’s… weird.”
You shrug, “Plenty more frats in the sea.”
“Oh I’ve so got it!” Taylor squeals, jumping up from her seat, “I’m putting us on the list.”
———
After the girls do more shots, and Taylor has dragged everyone up for two horrific attempts at karaoke, you all move along to the next bar. On the way, you bump into Steven and officially adopt Denise onto the girls night - convincing her she’d have much more fun than she would with the boys. Though, she didn’t take much convincing.
“So, how bad are the bachelors?” You ask, the two of you walking behind the other girls on your way to the next place.
“Oh, you know, they’re… idiots,” She laughs, “But the good kind of idiots, at least.”
“For the most part,” You encourage, “They’re harmless.”
She grins, both of you hurrying to catch up with the girls as they go into the next place.
All of them flock to the dance floor immediately, singing along to the Ariana Grande song blasting through the speakers. Belly grabs your hand to dance with you, twirling you around with that bright Belly Conklin smile on her face.
You’re oblivious to anyone else around you with this group - not thinking far beyond being there to make sure Belly has a good night. So you don’t notice when a guy approaches. Not until his hand is on your back, leaning in behind you to attempt to talk to you.
“Hey I noticed you from-“
“Woah, woah, woah,” Denise swoops in immediately, locking hands with yours to pull you away, “She’s got a boyfriend.”
You glance back and the guy raises his hands at you as if admitting defeat, smiling sheepishly before walking back over to his friends. You turn around to Denise.
“Thanks for covering for me,” You laugh, “You were quick to it.”
She shakes her head, “Don’t worry about it. Just tell your boyfriend he owes me one.”
“Wh-“ You laugh again, frowning a little, “Yeah, when I’ve got one, I’ll let him know.”
“You’re not seeing anybody?” She furrows her brows.
You shake your head.
“Oh, weird, Blake told me he wanted to ask you out but someone told him you were seeing someone.”
You feel like your heart pauses for just a moment. Like this sort of gut feeling that you already knew what had happened. Surely not. Conrad wasn’t ever a very good liar. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was him who’d done it. But why?
“Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have-“
“No, no, don’t worry about it. I’m just going to get some more drinks,” You squeeze her arm reassuringly, pushing through the mass of bodies in the bar to get into some sort of clearing where you felt like you could breathe.
And all your mind can think of is Conrad.
———
“Okay okay we have place left and then we can call it a night,” Taylor explains, checking the list on her phone, “Sound good Belly?”
“Sure,” Belly beams, swaying a little as she loops her arm with Taylor’s, “This has just been such a fun night, I love you girls so much I just…”
“Okay don’t you start getting emotional on us!” Taylor shakes her head, “I can’t cry tonight.”
“No come on I’m serious I mean I really love… Jere!” Belly exclaims the last word so loudly you all flinch in surprise.
You glance up and see the group of boys all walking towards you, Redbird with his arm hooked around Jeremiah’s neck. A couple of the other frat boys trying to talk to Steven about something - though he looks wildly unamused. And, right at the back, hands in his pockets, Conrad.
“There you are!” Jeremiah grins, running the rest of the way to meet Belly, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her from the ground.
“Ugh stop it’s sickening,” Steven grumbles as he walks up, “Having a good night?”
“Yeah,” Denise smiles softly, “Much more fun with the girls.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever,” He brushes her off, “Come on, we’ve still got three more places on the bar crawl.”
Jeremiah stumbles as he sets Belly back down, his words slurred as he speaks to her quietly, making her giggle and blush.
“Enough of that Jere!” Redbird grasps his shoulders, “Onto the next!”
He pulls Jeremiah away from his fiancé and guides him back onto the route they’d been following, the other guys following behind.
“Yeah we need to go too!” Taylor encourages, linking her arm back with Belly’s as they set off once again.
“Hey, Conrad.”
You’ve said the words before you’ve had enough time to think it through. He pauses in his tracks, turning around in his spot to face you.
“Can I talk to you?”
You look over your shoulder to the girls and motion for them that you’ll catch up. They all look at you a little bewildered, Belly with an obvious grin, Denise looking like she knew what was coming next. But they all accept and carry on ahead to the bar.
“You’ve saved me a bit, I could do with a break from that,” He gestures back towards where the guys were now piggybacking each other across the street.
You giggle, though it’s fleeting and momentary when it feels like your chest is tightening to be so near to him.
He turns back to you, hands still in his pockets, eyes piercing and focused only on you, “What did you want to talk about?”
“Did you… did you talk to Blake tonight?”
“Yeah I mean we spoke a bit about football and college and he tried to get me to drink a few times but-“
“Conrad,” You cut him off, “That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?” He half-laughs, “It’s a bachelor party, of course I’ve talked to him I-“
“Did you tell him that I was seeing someone?”
“I-“ He scratches at the back of his neck, “Okay, yeah, I might have said something like that.”
“Why?” You say softly, your voice quiet and timid - annoyingly so.
You don’t want to be so shy in your questioning, but it seemed as if he was bringing the nerves out of you.
“Because I-“ He scoffs, “I just… you’re an attractive girl,” He gestures a hand in your direction, “And you’re in New York and I just figured you’d have met someone.”
“So you just assumed I was? You didn’t think to ask?”
“Why? Are you disappointed that he didn’t ask you out because honestly I figured I’d be doing you a favour by helping you avoid that one,” He stuffs his hands into his pockets.
“Conrad I don’t care about going on a fucking date with Blake,” You snap, “I want to know why you lied to him.”
“Because-“ He blurts out and then pauses, “Because I… I don’t know.”
“You didn’t want him to ask me out.”
Conrad takes a breath, sighing deeply, “Okay, fine. Yeah. Satisfied?”
You try to speak but no words come to mind, both of you stood in the sweeping chill of the breeze, warmed by the tension between you. You felt magnetised to him, convinced that you couldn’t step away even if you wanted to.
“Why not?”
“Come on, we don’t need to do this,” He shakes his head, “Just forget it. I’ll tell Blake you’re single, we can forget it.”
“Conrad it’s not about that, I don’t care about that,” You remind him, “I just want to know why you did.”
He doesn’t say a word, looking down at his feet, back up at you.
“Maybe you’re right, maybe we should just forget it,” You clench your jaw, readjusting your bag on your shoulder, “Have a good night, Conrad.”
“Okay, wait, wait,” He reaches for your arm as you go to step past him.
You look up at him and he looks down at you with a softness to his eyes, like he’s silently begging you to not push him any more.
“You know I’d have thought after all this time we could still be honest with each other,” You swallow the lump in your throat, “But I guess not.”
You pull your arm away from his grip, wrapping your jacket around your torso as you hurry towards the bar where the girls had gone to. You don’t turn around to see him again. But the magnet pull in your heart reminds you that he’s still there - still waiting to find the right words.
———
After the last bar, you drive the girls home, dropping Denise back to the inn in the town. By the time you pull up into the driveway, Conrad’s car is already parked too.
“Come on Belly,” Taylor shakes her friend awake, “Let’s go get you back to your fiance.”
Belly grumbles, slumping into Taylor as the two of them walk towards the house, Anika following behind with her shoes dangling down in her hand.
You lock the car and go to walk towards the house.
“Hey, wait up!” Conrad’s voice calls out, followed by the sound of his car door closing.
“I thought you were inside already,” You say, wrapping your arms around your torso.
“Left my phone in the car,” He holds up the phone to prove his point, stuffing it into his pocket, “Did you have a good night?”
“Um, yeah, yeah,” You smile softly, “I didn’t even drink and yet I still feel like I smell of tequila and vodka.”
He laughs gently, “Yeah I’m pretty sure my car’s going to stink of beer for a good few days.”
You laugh, swallowing the lump in your throat.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” He takes a breath, “I should have been honest with you, I shouldn’t have lied to Blake, and I’m really sorry that I did.”
You nod, shrugging your shoulders, “Hey, for what it’s worth, I think you saved me from having to reject a frat bro so maybe I owe you one.”
“I don’t know, he told me tonight that he won ‘top chugger’ at their awards night last year - you might be missing out,” Conrad smirks, raising his brows to you.
“Wow, you know that was actually what I always wished my future husband would be like,” You scoff, “What could have been.”
“No, no, your future husband was supposed to be a good surfer, taller than you, and at least sort of able to play the guitar,” He numbers the points on his hand, “I still remember.”
“Oh my god,” You cover your face with your hands, “From that stupid video in middle school? I still can’t believe you even found that!”
Conrad laughs, “With your Jonas Brothers poster and the pigtails and-“
“Alright, alright, alright,” You wave him off, “How did we get onto this topic?”
Conrad composes himself, pausing before he says, “I am really sorry I lied.”
“Water under the bridge,” You shake your head, “I promise.”
He nods, looking as if he has a million more things to say.
“I should probably go in and check on Belly,” You say, “Good night Con.”
You hurry inside, once more not wanting to look back at him. The lights are all off in the house, the sound of snoring echoing from different rooms. You turn towards Belly’s room, where you were sharing with Taylor, and slowly open the door.
“Hey,” Taylor hisses in the dark, “We have a problem.”
You look over to see Belly asleep in your place, her dress still on, makeup still remaining.
“Jere’s knocked out on the bed, Belly asked if she could sleep in here instead,” Taylor explains quietly, “I can totally sleep downstairs if you want.”
“No, no,” You return, shaking your head, “Stay with Belly, I’ll find somewhere else.”
Taylor smiles, telling you that she’ll see you in the morning before snuggling back down into the covers, asleep before you have even stepped out of the room.
Cautiously, you pull the door closed, turning around as Conrad comes up the stairs.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, um, any chance you’ve got some spare blankets?” You whisper, “I’ll crash on the couch tonight.”
“No you won’t.”
“No, it’s okay, Belly and Taylor are already asleep and-“
“You can sleep in my room.”
Before you can respond, he’s turned towards his room already, and you find yourself drawn to follow him before you’ve even thought about it.
His room remains the same - just as clean, just as blue, just as cool and calm. On his nightstand used to be a photo of you and him together. Now, an empty space took its place.
“I can sleep on the floor,” Conrad offers.
It was strange. He’d seemed so certain and confident when he’d told you to come with him, and now it felt like all of that confidence had disappeared as soon as you were in the room.
“You don’t have to do that,” You say softly, “I’m sure we’re capable of sharing a bed.”
He nods, “Okay.”
You felt like you were eighteen again. With a crush on the boy who lived next door. You could feel the same nerves coursing through you, the same flutter in your stomach when his eyes were on you.
You move around each other in silence, getting ready for bed. He offers you one of his t-shirts to wear and you feel your cheeks heat up at the gesture. He leaves the room when you are about to get changed, the material of his top feeling foreign and new on your skin now. Something that had once felt like it could belong to you too.
When he comes back into the bedroom, you’re already tucked under the sheets, laying on your back, restraining yourself to stay on one side of the bed. Conrad walks around, lifting up his own side of the covers and climbs underneath. He tucks one arm under his head, both of you staring up at the ceiling. Both not knowing where to go from here.
“I still can’t believe Jere and Belly are getting married,” You break the silence first, “You used to always tell me they were going to end up together.”
“My Mom was the one that was so sure of it,” Conrad speaks softly, “She was so sure she knew who both of us would be with.”
She thought he’d end up with you.
“They seem really happy together,” You return, “It’s nice to know your Mom was right.”
Conrad laughs a little, “Yeah, yeah, she was.”
Silence again.
“So do you-“
“Have you-“
Both of you pause as your words tangle over each other, turning to glance at the other bashfully. It was something that had become sort of a habit when the two of you were together - you always managed to say things at the same time. As always before, Conrad lets you speak first.
“So do you think you’ll stay in California after you’re finished with Medical school out there?”
“Maybe,” Conrad says, “I like the west coast but sometimes I just miss being out east, you know? I think if there’s anywhere I want to be it’s just back here, back home.”
You hum in response, “I know what you mean, I love New York but every so often I’m walking home or I’m out at a bar or I’m in these ridiculously tall buildings and I just wish I was out of the city, back in Cousins, same faces, same houses, same beach.”
Conrad turns his head to look at you, “You always wanted a house here.”
“I did, maybe I still do,” You sigh, “But then I figure I need to make something of my life in New York, make it all worth it. I’m just… you know what I’m like.”
“You’re worried the sacrifices you made won’t be worth it if the thing you made them for doesn’t work out,” He says softly, “I know.”
Both of you stay silent for a moment. He did know. He always knew. No amount of days, months, years could pass that would change that. He knew who you were, how you felt, how you thought. He knew what scared you, what kept you up at night, what woke you up in the mornings. And as much as you felt like you’d changed in the years that had passed, you’d held onto those things that he knew of you - you held onto who he knew you to be.
“I lied to you earlier,” Conrad says, his face turning back to the ceiling, like he can’t bear to look at you in his confession.
You don’t respond, knowing there was more for him to say.
“I didn’t want Blake to ask you out.”
You feel your breath catch in your throat, paused in the moment before you knew what was coming next.
“Not because of him, or because I thought you were dating someone, or because I thought you might not like him anyway,” He shakes his head, “It was purely selfish.”
Your voice comes out scratchy, choking around the lump in your throat, “Selfish?”
“I didn’t want to see you with him, I didn’t want to see him flirt with you, I didn’t want to see him make you laugh that way you do when you’re nervous I-“ He pauses, like he hasn’t thought to take a breath until just now.
You turn in the bed, facing him, watching the way his eyes remain glued to a particular spot on the ceiling above him, reluctant to look at you for fear that his instincts would take over.
“It’s been easier - me in California, you in New York - I didn’t have to think about you with other guys, I didn’t have to think about it because I’d never see it happen. I could just pretend it didn’t,” He half-laughs, “Blissful ignorance, or whatever.”
He looks like the soft kind of handsome where he lays - his silhouette softened by the dark of the room, his eyelashes falling over his eyes like another shield from any emotion they’d convey, his hair had the kind of curl that turned into his head, as if cowering away from the world, keeping even more of him out of sight.
“The thought of you being here and this other guy wanting you, I don’t know, call it immature, or insane or stupid or… I just couldn’t do it.”
“It’s not stupid,” You manage to speak, your voice timid, scared of your own admission.
Conrad glances to you, his body gravitating towards you as he turns too, both of you facing each other, “It’s been four years, I don’t think I should feel like this anymore.”
“Maybe not,” You say, eyes darting to his lips as they curve around the words, “But if the roles were reversed, if one of the girls wanted you, I think I’d lie too.”
Conrad laughs a little, “Yeah?”
“I’d do a better job than you did though, I’d at least have a backstory for this so called fake girlfriend,” You comment, a smile tugging at your lips.
“What’s that then?”
“Well,” You adjust against the pillows, “She’d be this girl-next-door type, your age, shorter than you but that wouldn’t be hard. And she’d have been with you for years and she’d just be really really glad that her dream life took her to California, instead of somewhere like … you know, like New York.”
“And your boyfriend,” Conrad swallows the lump in his throat, “Would communicate, a lot, and not let you slip away. And he’d be racking up air miles travelling to New York whenever he got the chance.”
You can’t fight the smile back anymore, biting your bottom lip as you do, “And I think they’d both just be really really annoyed that this hadn’t all happened four years sooner.”
Conrad shakes his head, “No. They were kids before. They’re not now. Maybe four years is what they needed.”
“You think so?” You whisper the words.
“I do,” He replies.
You’re both silent for a moment, both breathing in everything that had just happened, both replaying over in your head, letting the words linger in your mind a moment longer.
“I would love to say that I don’t care how much time has passed,” Conrad leans up into his elbow, looking down at you, “But I’d be lying. Of course I care about how long we’ve been apart. And I convinced myself that we were different people now and that it was this thing of the past. And now you’re back and you’re here and everything is just like it used to be.”
“But we’re still three thousand miles away,” You whisper, tears pricking at your eyes.
You weren’t upset, you weren’t sad, you weren’t angry or confused. You were just overwhelmed by the feeling of having him so close to you, of having him confess that there was still something between you. But the tears crept to your eyes for the fear that the distance would once again drive a wedge between what is and what could never be.
“Then we’ll meet in the middle, we’ll call, we’ll fly to each other, we’ll come here for spring break,” Conrad shakes his head, his hair falling around his forehead, “We’ll make it work.”
“I just-“ You choke out, “We said we’d make it work before.”
“I know you don’t believe me, and you have every reason not to,” He takes a breath, “But just give me a chance to prove you wrong. Give us a chance.”
But you do. You do believe him. Conrad had the ability to say everything you wanted to hear, everything you needed to hear, and everything you’d convinced yourself you’d never get to hear. He made you loved and wanted and desired and adored. You’d give this a chance, because it meant giving yourself a chance. A chance to be happy, to be in love, to be with the boy you always thought you’d be with.
You lift up a hand, cupping your hand around his jaw, smoothing your thumb across his cheek, a smile curling onto your lips, “I do believe you.”
Conrad smiles too, leaning down enough to close the gap between you. He kisses you softly, tentatively, like he’s trying to remember the way in which his lips had fit to yours all that time ago.
You keep him drawn close to you, pulling every piece of you that has belonged to him back into its rightful place, replacing the pieces of him that had been missing from you. Sealing together both of your hearts in the process.
Even with three thousand miles between you, those things would never change. A piece of you would belong to him, and a piece of him would belong to you - only truly and wholly complete when you were back in his arms.
Conrad Fisher seems to be the luckiest rich kid on the planet. You, a girl having grown up in the poorest suburb in Cousins, hate him on principle, because he seems arrogant- you think he dislikes lower class people like yourself. You fall out of touch with him, staying biased against him, until you're reconnected because of Jeremiah and Belly's wedding. You realize his life was never what you thought it was.
Genre: childhood acquaintances to enemies/strangers to friends to lovers, SLOW burn, mostly set in S3, AU in which Conrad never tells Belly he still loves her (bc he does not), mutual pining, yearning, lots of therapeutic talk, some angst, fluff, kind of a fix it fic bc connie deserves better
No use of y/n - you have a given last name in this story (if you don't like it, don't read it)
Word count: 13k
Conrad Fisher doesn’t know how good he’s got it.
This is your first thought when you see that on his super sweet awesome 16th birthday, Susannah and Adam Fisher had bought their son the newest, next-year edition shiny red Jeep.
With custom speakers, in fact. Which are loudly blaring Birthday, by Katy Perry, as Jeremiah Fisher shakes his ass out the window, laughing diabolically, and Conrad swerves around the roundabout, grinning at his brother, and his parents, who adoringly watch from the line of the hot cocoa cart up ahead.
Rich people pretend to be all practical. I mean, who needs a fancy new car? He could’ve easily made do with a second-hand one. You swallow down your annoyance.
You’re reading on a bench by yourself, right in front of the local community centre. It’s peaceful– it’s a cool, November day, and although you know Cousins is adored during the summer, you’ve always had a secret love for autumn, too. The trees’ leaves are bright, crisp red, the water has cooled to an un-swimmable degree of chilliness, and the air feels solemn and holy in a way you can’t quite describe– almost like the season is slowing down, allowing for rest, through winter and then finally opening back up during spring.
You adore it. You think of it as a time that you get to relax and just be yourself, not like during the summer, when there are constant beach parties with the coolest, richest teens around. Where debutante balls and trust funds make a bigger appearance than during any other time of the year. Where tourists make it clear that they have enough funds to come here just for the hell of it– unlike you, who’s lived here her entire life, and can’t afford to leave.
It’s not anyone’s fault. You live in the poorest neighbourhood in Cousins– right at the intersection of Cliff Commons and Main Street– and it’s purely because your family inherited your home. It’s the wealthiest asset in your lives, and your family can just make by here, comfortably enough to make some savings. Selling and uprooting your lives to be somewhere else is something you’ve considered, too– but your mom admits it’s a much bigger pain in the ass to do so. Careers and bills don’t quite line up anywhere else.
So you get treated like a poor person despite living here year-round.
None of that is the Fishers’ fault, though, and it’s Conrad’s birthday, too. And you don’t want to be an asshole– it’s just that Conrad and his brother seem to have it all in this world.
You sigh and then flip a page. You settle into your jacket, hoping that they leave soon.
Jeremiah is sitting back down in his seat, and you think they’re about to drive away, when they suddenly park right in front of your bench.
You blink. “...?”
“Hey. What are you reading?” Jeremiah asks through the open window, as if he’s genuinely curious.
You focus on his question.
It’s Jane Eyre– one of your favourite books. The plot is terribly relevant to you. Without the romance, you feel like Jane. Poor, plain, not belonging to the society she’s stuck in.
Before you can answer, Conrad elbows him. “Jere, leave her alone– she’s clearly focused.”
He always seems to finish a sentence for you– effectively blocking you out.
“Is focused code for staring at us the whole time you were driving?” Jeremiah shoots back at him, with an easy smile. He looks back at you.
You don’t hate Jeremiah, not at all, really. He’s more like an annoying kid– despite being the same age as you, he never seems to mean any harm towards you.
Not until right now, where he’s basically calling you out.
Conrad can’t quite make eye-contact with you, so you know he was wondering about this, too. Conrad is the one that you never got along with, never during young play dates during the summer. He’s the one who always acted awkward around you, as if you don’t belong here– and you’ve never forgotten it.
You smile sweetly at Jeremiah, and then glare at Conrad, thinly veiled through your smile. “I was just wondering why you guys have such a sweet ride.”
“Wanna take it for a spin?” Jeremiah starts, before Conrad coughs uncomfortably.
“No, that’s okay.” You look pointedly at Conrad. “Happy birthday, Fisher.”
You enjoy the look of stunned silence on his face, and walk away.
/
It was rare that you’d see them at any point during the year that wasn’t summer, but Jeremiah and Conrad loved any excuse to come to Cousins– Christmas was often that time, but special birthdays were important, too.
The year Conrad turned ten, there was a massive party down at the square– Susannah and Adam set up a little weekend getaway, just for him, and invited almost everyone to the local bakery for carrot cake and milkshakes. You do remember wishing him a happy birthday, and hugging him excitedly, as nine year olds do– and Susannah gently prying you off, as Conrad couldn’t bare to hug you and ruin his cool guy reputation. Of course.
And then, when Jeremiah and you both turned ten the next year– double digits!– you in May, Jeremiah in late September, you got a new bicycle, and Jeremiah got a brand new PS4. During his birthday party, when all the local kids were invited to their beach house, you remember playing a random fps game that you were terrible at– and you were incredibly jealous that they could have games that were so polished with high definition graphics, while you were still playing your parents’ old Nintendo 64.
That was when you met Belly Conklin.
“Whoa, hey! I don’t know you.” An eager nine-year old with thick, black hair down her back, and funny glasses, is staring you down as you pass the controller to a red-headed kid.
“I’m–”
“Mann.” Conrad finishes for you, all cool and nonchalant because he’s eleven years old now. “She’s from around here, Belly.”
“Well, that’s just my last name…” You feel desperately uncool that this Belly girl seems to know Conrad and Jeremiah even better than you do– and you’re here year round.
Typical of the boys to never remember your first name. When you were all really young, basically seven and under, you made jokes about being Fisher-Mann together– and you’d rush into the sea, hoping to find a fish to prove your skills.
It’s a silly memory that should make you fond of them, but instead, you resent how close they pretend to be to you.
“Belly is a nickname. My full name is Isabel Susannah Conklin.” She proudly announces, and you feel your insides shrivel, knowing that whoever this girl is, she must be really important to the family if she’s named after Susannah. “I usually come here every summer, but my mom let us come to Jere’s birthday this time!”
She clasps your hands, excited, and you do your best to smile, but your ten-year old heart is too young to understand that you’re feeling left out. That life isn’t always fair.
“Is that baby Belly?” Your mom, usually a safe place for you to run over to, comes around, and pokes Belly’s face, and she grins at her, and now you’re really grouchy and despondent. Why does your mom know her? Even worse, why does she like her?
“Mom…” You pull her sleeve, and your mom looks at you with a bit of trepidation. “Who–”
“Belly is a friend of the Fishers, honey.” Your mom explains as if you should know this. “She was there when we would have beach trips together, remember?”
You don’t– not really– but this information reminds you that summer used to be a time for everyone to hang out, bonfires and night swims and movies at the drive in, until the Fishers (and you guess the Conklins) would do their own separate stuff.
Rich person stuff? Maybe. Or maybe it was just without the Mann family. The last time you remember hanging out with them properly during the summer, with all the other local kids… you must’ve been eight.
You want to throw a tantrum, that you’re so sidelined that some other girl– as if you were even important enough to have that label of the Fisher boys’ girl best friend and then be replaced– has always had their attention and now does so, undivided.
You’re too young to realize that they don’t hate you– a lack of acknowledgment isn’t hate– but old enough to know you can’t beg people to be friends with you.
No, especially not when you’re just regular-degular middle class, as your mom loves to say. She herself has rejected invites to fancy balls and luxe barbecues in villas around here, because that’s just not a place you can fit into, and people are not always inclusive of you guys– and if that fails a relationship, as hard as it might be, your mom has always told you that friends need to be there for you, too.
The Fishers aren’t really there for you. A hard truth for a ten year old to suddenly reckon with– it’s not that you didn’t know you weren’t best friends, but you thought you were closer than just mere neighbours– and you sigh and get more punch.
“Being ten sucks.” You mutter into your glass, hoping no one hears you.
“Eleven is much worse. Trust me.” Conrad remarks drily from his corner in the kitchen, where he’s sipping on Gatorade, with it’s unneeded electrolytes.
Just when you were feeling unnoticed, Conrad always seems to spring up at the worst moment, making you feel seen and then unseen all over again as he hovers, unsure of what to make of you, and then looking away again.
You know he doesn’t care now, but it still stings.
/
After that, years of growing up and being confident in your own place in the world just makes you ambivalent about the Fishers. You’ve always been cordial to each other– but you know the way they live their lives is something you’ll never relate to. And so you’ve come to accept that you don’t like them, and you don’t have to pretend to, as much as rich people love to canoodle and act like nothing is ever wrong.
At the very least, you refuse to suck up to them just because they’re well off. Classism and elitism are terms you love to throw around, much to your parent’s chagrin.
“It almost makes me happy, Deena, that they were such dicks still.” You’re gossiping on the phone to your best friend, peppy, supersmart, always willing to give good advice.
You’re lying on the old pull-out couch in your basement. Many games of poker have been played down here with your friends and family, but right now, it’s just a great place to gossip where your mom won’t reprimand you for it.
“Were they? They sounded perfectly neutral to me.” She replies back, smacking her gum, and you hear writing sounds in the background– Deena must be preparing for exams already. “I mean, how were Jeremiah and Conrad Fisher supposed to know that you hate them for being able to afford a new car?”
“One: I don’t hate them.” You state, and Deena bursts out in laughter. “No, really! Two: Conrad Fisher got it as a gift. God, it’s like people like that don’t even know how good they’ve got it, Deena, and I wish they just had some self awareness.”
“You don’t need to tell me that. I’m still saving for my car next year.” Deena sighs wistfully. “That 2012 Honda Fit is going to be mine.”
“Okay, true. Maybe I should just calm down.” You exhale.
Deena moves on to talking about the semi-formal, and you listen, hoping that you never have to run into Conrad again.
/
Of course, them owning a summer house and all, you do end up seeing him. Every summer, the Fishers and Conklins make their drive up to Cousins Beach, and you know they’re here because every time, without fail, you see Conrad, again and again.
It doesn’t even have to be for a particular reason– he’s just around, like at your local convenience store, down by the beach kicking rocks, or maybe just taking a stroll down the street.
It makes you fume for some reason. The way he looks up, and then looks away– as if you’re not worth a second glance. This is your home, isn’t it? Cousins Beach was more yours than his, considering you would always be here, and probably die here, too.
So you hold your ground. You refuse to look away from him, daring him to avoid you when you say “Hey.”
He’s always mildly surprised, and it gives you a tiny bit of glee to have knocked Conrad Fisher off guard. “Hey.”
And then you’re on your way again, off back to your own neighbourhood and your own life.
/
You don’t actually actively think about Conrad for the most part, other than those brief glimpses during summer, for the other part of your teenage years. Dislike eventually melted away into indifference, because you never really saw the Fishers again.
Other than when Susannah died, and your mom was so desolate, because Susannah wasn’t really like the other rich people around Cousins, she was always a kind person, and you both made a nice care package to send over to their house.
Then all you could think about was how he must have struggled. Him and Jeremiah, and maybe that girl, Belly, if she was still friends with them. It was horrible to lose a mom– you don’t know what you’d do without yours, because she was all you had in the world.
You know at some point there were rumors of the Fishers selling the house, which made sense to you– maybe a bitter reminder of the life they once had– but that doesn’t seemed to have happened, as much as you and your mom joked about buying it.
“As if we could afford that view, Mom!” You had laughed as she insisted that being a twenty minute walk away from such a view wasn’t too shabby, too. That your family has done well for itself.
She wasn’t wrong. You were very proud of your mother– she’d climbed up the corporate building blocks and been promoted to a senior manager role at her job, making your situation not nearly as desolate as it once was. Yes, you could finally say that you’re middle class, rather than just lower-middle as you once were.
And then, a few years later, after you finished high school and college, you’ve started working as a paralegal for one of the smaller firms up in Boston– about an hour drive from your house, so you choose to make the commute rather than waste money on rent, for now.
Life is good.
/
At least, life was good, until you receive a call from Belly Conklin, on the first day of August, 2027.
You’re surprised. You never really talked to the girl, so you’ve got no idea why she’s calling.
You’re staring at the caller ID, currently doing laundry at your house, basket against your hip, until you decide to answer.
“Hello?” You hope you don’t sound too confused. Belly always seemed to be the sweetest out of the kids at the Fisher Beach House– she was the only one who really bothered to say hello first, a lot of the time.
“Hi!” Belly mentions your name. “It is you, right? Do you still go by Mann?”
“Hi, Belly.” Your stomach twists in a way that feels nostalgic– Mann was something that only the Fishers really called you, way back when. “Sure I do. Do you still go by Belly?”
“Never really stopped!” She laughs, and you feel a bit more at ease. “I’m calling because it’s been a while, and I wanted to ask if you and your mom were still coming to our wedding?”
Your brain stops for a moment. What on earth is she talking about?
For some reason, you just assume she’s talking about Conrad and herself. They seem to fit– you think you’ve noticed something through the meagre glances you stole at them glancing at each other through out the years. And why else would Belly invite you to a wedding if not through the relation of the Fishers?
“Mann? Hello?” She’s still waiting for your answer.
“Right, gimme just one second…” You scratch your head in the meantime, setting down your laundry basket and sitting in front of the machine. “Do you mind if I just–”
“Ask your mom?” Belly responds in turn. “Yeah, of course, go for it. I’m sure it’s a bit of a surprise– Adam just went ahead and invited a ton of people, I think he was using his assistant, who was using Susannah’s contact list– so there’s a lot of people who had no idea about the wedding who, well, they know now! That’s not to say we don’t want you here– it’s just awkward, maybe…?”
You grimace to yourself. That doesn’t sound ideal, it sounds like Conrad and Belly asked his father to deal with the invites because they couldn’t care less who came or didn’t. Sounds like a big mistake, as if you’re Cinderella going to a ball by request of the King and Queen for everyone to come.
You don’t have a fairy godmother to dress you up for such an affair either.
But on the other hand– you’d love a free dinner, and drinks. Whatever crazy rich people shenanigans they get up to will be gossip for you and your mom to yap about for ages. Plus, with years of missing out on the events for the socialites of Cousins, you don’t mind showing up.
Maybe a part of you wants them to see that you’re not doing so bad yourself.
“Belly, it’s all good. I don’t mind coming to your wedding, and I’m sure Mom doesn’t either.” You answer, and you can hear Belly smile and squeal through the phone.
“Okay! Awesome. Sorry, I know how it must feel– I honestly always feel out of place at all these fancy events and things, too– and you were probably like ‘agh, why do they want us to come to this?’ But it means so much that you’re coming! Susannah would’ve wanted you guys there.” Belly exclaims, and you feel a little pang of guilt, now.
Belly grew up comparably to you, and here you are thinking that she’s one of them, one of those ghastly evil Fisher boys. Men, now, you suppose. She was probably a fish out of water her whole life– and now she’s marrying into that kind of life. It warms you to her considerably.
And you just know she never meant any harm by this whole invite situation– in fact, look at her, trying to make it alright, insisting that Susannah would’ve wanted you there– and you know she’s right. Susannah was always nice to you and your mom no matter how many times your mom apologetically couldn’t come to a party she was throwing.
“Thanks, Belly. I really appreciate that.” You say sincerely, and she bids you goodbye.
“Mom?” You call out, and your mom answers, half-asleep on the couch in your living room.
“...Yeah?”
You sigh, and walk out into the living room, and shake her lightly, waking her.
“Ugh, kid.” She yawns. “Yeah?”
“Did we get an invite to a wedding recently?” You cross your arms, waiting for an answer. You need to know when it is– you can’t believed you RSVP’d just like that.
“Oh, yeah. There, it’s on the counter–” Your mom points to the kitchen island counter behind the couch.
You rifle through some bills and find, sure enough, a cream coloured envelope. Inside is a very fancy invitation with embossments of flowers and seashells, a jellyfish illustration, and serif writing proclaiming:
We cordially invite you to celebrate the wedding of:
Ms. Isabel Susannah Conklin
&
Mr. Jeremiah Adam Fisher
That’s odd.
You could’ve sworn that Belly and Conrad were going to be it, but it’s not like you know them like that. Who knows what could’ve transpired over the last few years?
The date listed is August 6th, 2027.
You breathe a sigh of relief– That’s on a Friday, and you don’t work Fridays anyways. And your mom has more than enough days off.
With the wedding in the back of your mind, you get back to doing your laundry.
/
Conrad hates himself for choosing to be here.
He thought it would be fine– helping Belly with wedding stuff, being there for Jere, whatever he could do, he would do.
But he’s exhausted.
Ever since Belly and Jeremiah had announced their wedding together– so many people had been against it, but Conrad knew he had to be there for them if no one else was, and it was killing him inside.
He loves– loved her. He doesn’t want to give a name to that feeling, choosing to place it in the past, but he knows it’s going to be impossible to get over until after this whole thing is done.
Not even Cousins was really helping him unwind at all. He always left the beach house every morning– not wanting to intrude on domestic bliss after Belly and Jeremiah decided to stay there.
The beach was tiring, too. Swimming made him want to drown. Somehow he just feels lost no matter where he looked.
And it was all thanks to Belly. She was always going to be the one that got away, and unfortunately, for Conrad, having grown up with her, there was a piece of Belly everywhere he looked. Her laugh was what he missed the most.
Of course Jeremiah got to hear it every single day, now. They can’t stop canoodling, even now, sitting at the counter, as Conrad checks out what’s in the fridge.
Obviously he can’t trust these two kids to get groceries, so he tells them he’d be out.
They barely notice as Jeremiah starts kissing Belly’s neck, and Conrad resists the urge to gag.
/
The Cousins Supermarket is kind of busy this time around. Not surprisingly, considering it’s a Sunday and all.
Conrad says hello to Enid, the lovely older woman who works the in-store flower boutique– and she tells him they’re having a deal on bouquets, 12.99 for 2, which he says he’ll keep in mind.
His heart sinks again, remembering that he’s not marrying Belly, and Belly already couldn’t buy flowers at that much more expensive boutique– so he suggested Susannah’s hydrangeas, and now he’s wishing again he was the one with Belly, dumb and young and in love, needing to save money because they barely have any to begin with, with the wedding swallowing costs, budgeting so their futures are set.
He sighs. Time will make these feelings pass, he knows.
He knows Belly loves sugar, but it can’t just be pastries and soda in the pantry, so he gets to finding some vegetables, protein, carbs, really all the food groups that would be good to keep the happy couple healthy.
Conrad is staring down different meats when there’s a voice that interrupts his train of thought.
“Hey, sorry.” It’s you, and you’re reaching for the marked down rib-eyes that he’s standing in front of. “Fisher.”
“Mann.” He gives you a self-conscious nod, as if you’re bros, and feels a teeny bit embarrassed about it. “Sorry. Let me move out of the way.”
You’re quick to grab the package, and you open your mouth like you’re about to say something.
Conrad isn’t sure when you’ve grown up, but you have. Your hair is styled in a way that reads grown-woman rather than awkward teen, your handbag is leather rather than a polyester belt-bag, and you’ve got heeled sandals on, that add half an inch to your height. There’s a translucent pinky gloss on your lips, too, and he remembers– you’re twenty-two years old now.
You look confident, but not mean. And then he wonders why he would think you’re mean, except… you always used to glare at him.
He hardly remembers the last time he’s seen you– but he’s sure of it. You used to have a real stink eye for him.
You shut your mouth, not knowing what to say.
“Here for the wedding?” Conrad fills in the blanks, and then raises his eyebrows at his own stupidity. “Uh, sorry– you–”
“Live here.” You smirk at him, glad Conrad is the same as ever, and he shakes his head.
“Sorry. Really, that’s my bad, I just forgot.” He sees your eyes squint, and continues to perhaps bury himself deeper into the hole he’s started to dig. “I mean, you’re not forgettable, Mann– I’m just surrounded by wedding shit all the time, so it was the first thing out of my mouth. I didn’t mean to make you feel–”
“Left out?” You’re enjoying this a little too much, as Conrad’s mouth is left agape, and he struggles with what to say next. You don’t know when Conrad became such a doormat, considering what an aloof kid he used to be, but it makes you happy– you feel, for once, that Conrad is the one groveling for your attention.
And then you blink at that thought. Are you seriously that insecure? That petty, all these years, that you wanted him to see that you don’t have to be the one groveling just because of your financial background?
No, you’re gonna extend an olive branch. You refuse to let Conrad have a thing above you, that he can be nicer than you now. And if that’s petty, too, well you’re not gonna look that deeply into it.
Fair’s fair.
“Don’t worry, Fisher, I’m fucking with you.” You laugh, looking down, and it actually sets Conrad off, as he blinks, traces his arm, and smiles sheepishly, if not a little confused.
“You were always really intense.” He mentions, and your head snaps back up, wondering when he could’ve noticed such a thing.
It’s why you went into law. You argue with an intensity that almost no one wants to be on the other side of– almost to your detriment at times, where you have to learn to lay off.
This would be a good time to lay off, you think. He doesn’t seem exactly the same as he once was, and he’s staring at you like he needs a lifeline– he’s struggling with something.
You can tell he’d almost welcome an argument for all the wrong reasons. To feel worse about himself in the end. His blue eyes have a hollowness to them now.
“To answer your question, yes, I am coming to the wedding.” You explain, stepping forward a bit, to be friendly, while Conrad stares at you intently. “I didn’t even know we were invited, honestly. Me and my mom are pretty used to being left out of things.”
“I’m–”
“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault.” You shake your head, and Conrad sighs in relief.
You frown at how serious he is.
“I feel like I’ve been apologizing for everything the last few years.” Conrad admits to you, and you raise your eyebrows.
“Conrad Fisher? He’s been wrong about things?” You joke, and he smiles a real smile.
“I’ve been dead wrong about a lot.” There’s a solemnness to the way he says that, and you don’t know why that is, but you don’t want to pry.
“Anyways, it’s no secret that me and my mom have a different income to the rest of you guys. It’s no one’s fault.” You shrug, but Conrad won’t shake this look of intense guilt. “It’s easier to avoid going to expensive parties so you can pay bills, you know? But Belly told me we were in Susannah’s contact list, and she would’ve wanted us there.”
“You’re right. She would have.” Conrad grins. “Mom was always open to anyone who would have her.”
“Yeah.” You think about Susannah and think about how she never talked to you any differently, even with the fact that you and your mom hardly ever made it to the beach house for margaritas and what-not. “She was really sweet. I know she probably wished more than anything to be there for Jeremiah and Belly.”
“Yeah, she probably did.” Conrad’s face changes a bit, you notice, almost in displeasure, before he suddenly changes the subject. “I… gotta go buy these groceries, but I’ll catch you around? A lot of the wedding party is arriving today, but I’m sure they don’t need me bugging them.”
It floors you to see Conrad, of all the people you’ve ever known, asking you to potentially hang. In fact, he’s quite literally hanging on to see your answer– puppy dog eyes and all.
“I’ll see what I can do. Can’t make any promises, I have a riveting episode of Dawson’s Creek waiting for me at home.” You tentatively remark, wondering who you think you are, making plans with a guy that was never really your friend.
“Awesome.” Conrad laughs, and he then asks for your number, staring at the floor, and then your face, the entire time you’re typing it into his phone.
He sends a text– “Hey, it’s Conrad Fisher :)” and you feel more than just tolerance. Maybe you’re not made out of ice.
Maybe you had him pegged all wrong.
/
The Dawson’s Creek episode is one you’ve seen a million times growing up. It’s the wedding finale episode, and it’s a little on the nose for what’s happening right now, so you can’t put Conrad out of your mind.
You have a million unanswered questions.
Why does he seem so depressed? What happened to that kid, the one who was too smart and cool for everyone?
Or was it just growing up, where you realize you don’t know everything, and the real weight of the world is on you?
No. It’s something deeper, you can tell. That boy is troubled by something, and even though you don’t owe him anything, you care enough to alleviate his spirits, at least a little.
It replays in your mind that Conrad seemed especially upset over mention of Jeremiah and Belly.
You pause the episode, and instead look at his text message.
A call might be too desperate, you think.
You: Still up for hanging?
Conrad: Yeah, sure.
Conrad: Actually, could you do me a favour?
You: Are we on favour levels of friendship now?
Conrad: If it’s not a big deal sure. Ask me for anything later I just need to
He hit send on that without saying the rest of what it was.
Conrad: I need to get out of here. Can you pick me up or is that too crazy?
Conrad: I’m really sorry about this
Conrad: I just
You furrow your brows. Conrad sure knows how to make the night eventful, you guess. It hasn’t even been 24 hours and now you’re his buddy he calls to pick you up?
You: What about jeremiah?
Conrad: i’m at his bach party and it’s going really poorly. I gotta leave
You: Okay fine. but you owe me!!
Conrad reacts with a thumbs up to that last message, and sends you the address.
It’s a bar. In Downtown Cousins. Fuck, you really hope he isn’t drunk.
The last thing you want to do is be near him when he’s in such a vulnerable state, especially because you hardly know the guy at this point and he’s already been so up and down today. Who knows how clingy he’ll be right now? Until he suddenly turns avoidant, as he always used to be.
But maybe he’s really got no one else to reach out to.
You sigh, knowing you’re going to pick him up, but you’re going to put a heavy boundary in place later on.
/
Conrad wants to yell at Jeremiah so, so badly. But the guy is so drunk, he can’t function, and nothing Conrad could say right now would stick in his mind.
He wants to fucking throttle him.
Bad enough that he has Belly, but to cheat on her? To treat her like she’s nothing more than a disposable tissue for a wank, easily replaceable by the next one?
It makes him genuinely shocked. He’s in such disbelief, he feels like he never knew Jere or Belly.
How could she be so okay with this? To go ahead, and marry him anyways? Conrad doesn’t think she knows. There’s no way the Isabel Conklin he knew would’ve done this.
He’s swaying back and forth, in the front of the bar. He hardly knows you, he knows that– he just doesn’t know who to trust within this circle of apparent liars.
Conrad wants out.
And when he sees a chocolate brown Suzuki Swift pull up to the curb, with you waving out the driver’s window, he feels an enormous sense of relief.
You’re very apprehensive. He’s standing on the sidewalk, in a polo and khakis, and he doesn’t seem drunk– just very pale and sweaty, and his eyes are wide and shell shocked. You have even more questions.
Conrad opens the door to the passenger seat. And sits down, shutting the door, putting on his seatbelt, all wordlessly, but with the frantic nature of someone who wants to leave.
You decide not to pressure him. Just sitting there, until he asks you to drive.
“Where to?” You think about making a silly remark about being his uber driver.
“Just around. Please.” Conrad coughs, and you shrug, thinking that you hardly take joyrides anyways.
When you’ve driven at least a mile, Conrad finally speaks up. He’d been staring out the window for ages– and every once in a while, he’d turn to you, staring at you, which you could feel but you chose to focus on the road, obviously– and you wanted him to say something the entire time.
You don’t do great with pregnant silences like that. The paralegal side of you was waiting to interrogate him on what was up, but your weird ambiguous acquaintanceship with him made it impossible to do so.
You still have a modicum of respect for him.
“Sorry, by the way.” Conrad starts, and now, all the emotions he was keeping at bay suddenly come through by way of his sudden verbosity. “I know you probably have better things to do and you don't know me like that. I just, I didn’t really know who else I could ask to just help out. I know that sounds fucked, but listen– I just needed someone new, someone removed from the whole thing, even though it’s kind of my fault. I just can’t be alone in good conscience right now.”
You’re silent for a moment as Conrad searches your face for a response. It’s not that you’re trying to scare him by lack of an answer– although unintentionally, he does become fearful that you’re not going to understand, and he’s really just taking a leap here– it’s just that you’re truly at a loss at how to comfort him when you never thought of Conrad being capable of saying that much all in one go.
He’s someone who you still think of as too cool. Not vulnerable, not like this.
Conrad really does need a friend, you realize.
“Can’t be alone in good conscience? Do I need call a suicide helpline, Fisher?” You dryly comment, secretly hoping your shitty banter will lighten his spirits a little.
He actually grins, and then laughs really hard. It almost sounds like he’s crying– it’s maybe a bit too far for how unfunny your joke was– but you understand, he needs to let go of some weight on his chest.
“Nothing that serious, Mann.” Conrad leans back in the seat, breathing really hard. “I just needed a friend. If you don’t mind me being so forward.”
For some inane, childish reason, you feel your face turn warm, but you know the guy didn’t mean anything actually forward.
“No, we’re on favours-level now.” You smile at him, and he exhales, smiling very lightly, although his eyes are still watery.
“Conrad.” You lightly tread the conversation here, and he blinks, because you have never really called him Conrad before. “Do you want to talk about it with me? Or do you want me to drop me off at your house–” Before you can even finish your sentence, Conrad shakes his head.
“I can’t go back.” He sounds so sullen. “Everywhere I go, I just get reminded of how fucked up it all is.”
You nod at that, still lost.
/
You take him to your favourite, greasy pizza place that’s a bit further out of Cousins, more up north and away from the general traffic of rich summer house owners, and tourists.
As in, there’s no way any of the wedding party can find you guys here.
Conrad has been bouncing on the balls of his feet since you both entered the restaurant. It’s nothing fancy, nothing like what he’d be used to. Off-white, yellowing linoleum counters. Fluorescent, dated menu screens that are also yellowing. $1.99 slices of pizza, large and thin and oily, but cheesy and hot and very tasty. You’d vouch for them on your life.
“What do you usually get?” Conrad asks quietly, leaning to the side to hear you better, and you shake your head.
“So typical of a rich kid.” You snort, and Conrad’s face falls, before his lips form a thin, firm smile.
“Why? Because I want an informed experience?” He retorts, and you blink before laughing.
“No, it’s just funny to tease you. Sorry.” You bite your lip. “I don’t even really know what I meant– maybe that you wouldn’t know a place like this, obviously.”
“I’ve been to shitty hole-in-the-wall restaurants.” Conrad insists with an argumentative tone, but you laugh dismissively.
“Really? Where, NYC?” You raise your eyebrows at him expectantly. “I bet you couldn’t even guess where my cheap clothes are from.”
You motion down to your old sweatshorts and hoodie combo, and Conrad gives you a look-over, and suddenly you remember that he’s a guy and he’s kind of cute when he leans in like that, thinking.
Except, he’s hurting, and you’re clearly just thirsting since you haven’t had any romantic tension in a while. Regular banter is getting to you.
Conrad holds his jaw as he thinks. “Maybe the Gap?”
“Uh, no.” You look down to examine your sloppy outfit. “The hoodie is from Walmart. The shorts… actually, wait, might be from the Gap? They’re my mom’s. Nice, Conrad, I never even noticed that. You’ve got an eye for detail.”
It’s a silly compliment, but Conrad’s feeling so low, he takes it.
“Thanks.” He smiles, genuinely, his eyes lighting up a little, and you feel glad.
“Anyways. Best thing to order would probably be a cheese. Best way to see how they do the basics.” You murmur to him.
“Smart.” Conrad replies.
/
Sitting at a booth, two slices into the giant pizza you’ve ordered, which Conrad insisted on paying for since you already picked him up and offered to be a willing ear to listen to his problems– favour for a favour was his argument– he finally tells you.
“I dated Belly.” He says, all non-committal, but you can see his neck tighten and clench at her name. “Years and years ago. You would think I’m over it, but…”
“Well, you guys kinda grew up together. Right?” You comment, biting a crust covered in this place’s buttermilk-based hot sauce. “She’s your white whale.”
“Right. I’m Captain Ahab.” Conrad adds, gesturing with his hands. “I just always felt like it was supposed to be us. We were always on the same wave length– always understood each other instantly. I guess, as cliche as it sounds, we never got the fucking timing right.”
The sudden expletive makes you bite your tongue. “Elaborate a little.”
“Just that, after my mom died–” Conrad does the thing you’ve seen in common with other grieving people, he kind of sinks into himself for a second. “I struggled a lot to tell her how I was feeling. What was up with me. And I think Belly blamed it on herself, that I wasn’t caring, or really there for her, even though I told her I couldn’t do that in that moment, that it was my fault, as hard as I wanted to try for us– so she ended things on prom night. Later on, she told me she thought I never loved her like that.”
“Sounds like you were a pretty shit communicator, Conrad.” You comment, just to see his reaction, but he agrees.
“Yeah. I should’ve been honest from the beginning.” Conrad shakes his head, and takes a bite of his own slice of pizza. “I should’ve shown her that I did care, I did love her more than she thought.”
“No.” You interject a bit too loudly, and the night shift employee grimaces at you. “Sorry. No, Conrad. I don’t see anything so wrong with what you’ve said you did.”
“And what if I’m an unreliable narrator?” Conrad side-eyes you, but you side-eye him back.
“No unreliable narrator makes themselves sound so self-deprecatingly pathetic. No offense.” You respond, and he smiles at that. “Listen. It sounds like you’re taking way too much of the blame in this whole situation. Your mother passed away. You were struggling, it’s not your fault that you reacted the way you did. Forgive yourself for not being perfect at every moment.”
“But I…” Conrad sighs. “Even if that was true, I should’ve spoken up. I should’ve told her I did love her so she wouldn’t be marrying that asshole.”
“Life’s easier in hindsight, I know.” You say, not unkindly. “Listen to me. You might’ve done some things wrong, but that doesn’t mean you were the only person at fault. Why wasn’t she there for you? Why was she so quick to assume that your feelings were more shallow than they were?”
“Belly shouldn’t have had to deal with my silent and brooding shit.” Conrad jumps to her defense, but even he knows with his years of therapy now, that you have to find people to rely on. “I should have told her what was up so she could’ve been there for me, for real.”
“Very true. I do think she would’ve been there if you’d let her, I won’t lie.” You admit, finally, and Conrad is glad to hear it. “But that still doesn’t mean Belly doesn’t have her own faults. You say you love her, and maybe you do, too much, that you can’t see how insecure she sounds. Belly’s assumption of your feelings being shallow means she clearly didn’t have much faith in your relationship, either– maybe she thought she wasn’t worth it.”
“Because I made her feel that way.” Conrad argues, stubborn to a fault.
“Easy cop-out. You can give someone like that all the love confessions in the world, and they’ll still find something wrong with it– because they think they’re unlovable.” You lean in. “Hear me out, because I’m just guessing based on what you’ve told me: did Belly ever put you on a pedestal, make you feel like you were the perfect, older, wiser one?”
Conrad nods, slowly, his eyes turning inquisitive.
“And you couldn’t meet those standards, obviously, because nobody’s perfect. But even worse– Belly puts herself below you, by her own insecurity. She refuses to speak on the fact that she doesn’t see herself as worth it for you, instead choosing to let you grovel and apologize for things. And that’s because she doesn’t see the point anymore– she’s stubborn, and a bad communicator, too.” You finish off. “Or so I think. I could be wrong.”
Conrad groans. “Are you a fucking lawyer, or something?”
“Nah, just a lousy paralegal.” You tap the table, thinking. “I don’t know, Conrad, don’t listen to me. I’m entirely an outsider looking in.”
“Fuck, you’re not wrong.” Conrad mulls over what you’ve said, and then nods, his expression turning more frantic. “She never– I don’t think I ever thought she should’ve apologized to me. She never made it less than crystal clear that she totally adored me, and the very second I was imperfect, I failed… she fucking bailed on me.”
“Uh–”
“She loved me to an unfair standard.” Conrad blinks away angry tears. “Fuck, fuck, that’s why she’s so okay with Jeremiah, because he half-asses everything so Belly would never expect much from him.”
“Oh.” You frown at that. “I don’t really remember much about Jeremiah, to be honest.”
“Well, good, you won’t have any memories ruined, because he’s a fucking cheater and I’m the only person who gives a shit, apparently.” Conrad huffs, and then shakes his head. “Sorry. Sorry. That’s why I needed to get out of the bar– I heard him and his friends gloating over that shit. Fucking disgusting.”
“You apologize too much, Conrad.” You gently hold his forearm from across the table, and he looks up at you, blinking, half-enraged still, breathing heavily. “I don’t think very highly of Jeremiah at this moment, considering he went after his brother’s ex, or of Belly for marrying him, despite it all. I’m with you. Sure, it might just be because I’ve only heard your side, but… I’m choosing to believe you, okay?”
He’s blinking back tears. Conrad feels like he’s spent years just wanting someone from the group to listen to him– to just be on his side for once, instead of villainizing him for everything, expecting him to fix everything wrong. And it’s the first time, ever, with you by his side, that he’s felt like it wasn’t all his fault.
Like he had been wronged, too, and now been heard properly for the first time.
Conrad's overwhelmed.
He collapses very quietly into small, short sobs, sniffling in a way that you can barely hear him. Repressed to a fault, Conrad is.
“Hey. Hey. It’s gonna be okay.” You move to his side of the booth, and against your better judgment, hug him from the side, your arms around his shoulders, which Conrad gratefully takes, his face buried in your shoulder. He doesn’t exactly hug you back– he just lets you hold him.
“M’sorry.” He says, hurriedly, wiping his tears, trying to fix things, because you’re new to him and he doesn’t want to push you away with his bullshit.
But you look at him and you don’t look judging, just concerned for him, and as you stand up, holding his hand, dragging him and the pizza box back to your car, he’s so beholden to your empathy that he can’t help but follow you.
It’s weirdly intimate, you won’t lie. This is someone you haven’t talked to in years, and suddenly, you’re hugging him, comforting him. Things like this don’t normally happen in 24 hours. You know you went past every boundary that you swore you would set.
But you don’t think Conrad Fisher is going to hurt you, based on what he’s told you today.
Conrad, for the life of him, is still trying not to break down in the passenger seat, and it’s not until you squeeze his shoulder comfortingly, that he starts talking again in a wavery voice.
“I never– I always thought I had to be the responsible one. Big brother, you know?” He quivers a little at the end of the sentence and you nod encouragingly. “I never felt like I was allowed to have my own problems, but you really helped me. Thank you, genuinely– I don’t think I would’ve ever made a breakthrough without you.”
“Not even with therapy?” You ask, but you feel guilty that you were enjoying Conrad's overly apologetic nature earlier in the day.
Conrad grimaces.
“Don’t know. Most of the time the therapist would suggest ways for me to fix myself.” Conrad admits, and you make a face at that. “I really, really thought I loved her, you know? I was going to do anything for her.”
“Yeah.” You say, thinking that you’ve never been that in love, and Conrad frowns again.
“I think I just loved the idea of her.” Conrad slumps back in the seat, pushing his hair back. “I don’t think I ever really knew her.”
/
You dropped him off home around 4 AM. You hoped that was late enough for him not to get ambushed by anyone at the beach house, but Conrad said not to worry since he felt he could handle it.
You hoped he was right about that.
Because of how close you came together, both you and Conrad found it apropos to take some time apart. So you're not overbearing on each other, but also because both of you are unsure if the other person is even really comfortable with the current agreement of whatever it is you got going on.
Two idiots, really. Both overly conscious of potentially hurting someone else.
Honestly, you couldn't get your interactions with him off your mind. You hope he is alright, but a part of you also just wants to know what he's up to.
To you, it's the most interesting thing that's happened all year.
Eventually, after it's been about 2 days and you've had time to think, you text him in the middle of the night.
You: hey, you good?
The message is read almost instantly, but he doesn't reply for at least fifteen minutes.
Oh, god, why does this make you feel sick? You're sure it's just childhood trauma– wanting to impress the cool kids.
Conrad swallows, and then commits to texting you, as he lies in his bed. He doesn't want to bug you, even as you offered yourself up, but you're extremely comforting to talk to and a very nice distraction from all the mess. Belly and Jere and the wedding party have regularly been celebrating in the house– and the more he's there, the more he knows he hasn't loved her for years, which feels bittersweet to know now.
Plus the important thing he took away from talking to you is that he has to take up space. So he will.
Conrad: Hey. I’m actually doing great, really all thanks to our talk. I have no idea if you were even comfortable with it. I hope it helps you to know how helpful it was for me.
It’s such a kind message that you were never expecting him to say. He is a sweet guy– you feel like maybe under the veneer of aloofness, Conrad is just really introverted.
Conrad: Sorry that I took so long to message you, anyways. I didn't want to be too annoying, just wanted to say a final thanks
You: you are very welcome. Glad I could help and that you’re doing better.
You: FINAL thanks??? Conrad you better not kill yourself please. I'm invested now
Conrad: what, really? I thought you were just in it for the pizza
You: hahaha. No really I do care. Sorry if I came across kind of weird earlier that day
You: realistically I just want what's best for anyone
Conrad: aw so there's nothing special about me?
There's a pause on your end, no immediate response, and Conrad– who hasn't felt anything a while, other than a lingering obsession for Belly for years– wonders if he's flirting a little.
Wonders if he likes it.
You: I think we both know you're very special
You: for one thing, you have access to a trust fund
Conrad smiles to himself sheepishly.
Conrad: not anymore
You: anymore??
Conrad: I'll explain it later. Tomorrow if you want
You: I'm not busy anyways. Took the week off to use up vacation days. Was gonna go wedding gift + outfit shopping
Conrad: great. I can repay the favour
You: ???
You: Conrad, you already did that. You bought the pizza, remember?
Conrad: surely you can't think your advice is only worth a 5.99 XL pizza
Now you, in your own bed, smile sheepishly, before you think about how Conrad is in an emotionally vulnerable state and you're kind of a bad person to take advantage of that. You're not asking him out or anything, it's just that it feels… delicate.
But feelings are going to make themselves felt, and you can't control them with perfect robotic logic. You think you might have a slight inkling of a crush.
One that you'll shut down, because for one thing– he's probably not over Belly, and for the other thing– how could you be his type?
You: and what if I said yes I do think that?
Conrad: then I'd say you're really undervaluing your services and maybe we need to get you paid a higher wage
You:omg
Conrad: kidding. But you can't stop me from repaying what I think you deserve, okay?
Conrad: call it friendship idk.
You: help I'm being terrorized by a rich man lording his wealth over me and he's calling it friendship
Conrad: please. My father was Rich Man. You can call me Conrad
You burst out laughing at that, not realizing how funny Conrad could be.
/
Conrad picks you up the next day in his nice, new silver Range Rover.
Actually, he knocks on your door at 8:30 AM on the dot. And you, you're not even dressed– still wearing a giant t-shirt that reads “life's a BEACH” and itty bitty short shorts. Your hair is disheveled and all over the place.
“Cute.” Conrad comments, in the way that you remembered him to be as a kid. Observant, but not exactly mean– just dry. “I like the shirt.”
“Because it's true, right?” You yawn, letting him in. “Sorry. I didn't expect you here so early, Fisher.”
He blinks. “Are we back on a last name basis?”
“Did you ever stop calling me Mann?” You retort, and he grins at that.
“I guess not.”
“You can take a seat– unless my humble beginnings offend you in some way, Fisher.” You point to the couch, and Conrad sits down, not even looking put-off, which you have to give him credit for.
“Who's at the door? Is it my package?” Your mom calls, and she comes downstairs to see, well, Conrad. “Oh!”
“Forgive me for the intrusion, Mrs. Mann.” Conrad immediately stands up and apologizes, and your mom looks to you with a glance that reads do-you-know-this-man.
“Mom, it’s Conrad. Conrad Fisher?” You motion at him, and Conrad, being the kind of guy to be silly but also entirely serious about it, spins around on the spot, so your mom gets a good look at him.
You stifle a laugh, and Conrad looks at you conspiratorially, yet seriously, as if he’s daring you to laugh– you and him are starting to share a sense of humor.
“Oh. You’ve really grown up, Conrad. I’m sorry– I didn’t recognize you.” Your mom finally says, after taking a long gander at him, and then back at you, with more questions apparent on her face.
“That’s totally my bad.” Conrad takes the blame, even though you told him to stop doing that so much. “I should have visited more often.”
“No, no. That’s okay. Maybe she could’ve reached out more.” Your mom points a finger at you, and you shrug with a slightly teenage attitude. “So, not to be an overbearing parent, but why are you here? Just curious, I swear.”
You know that tone of voice. Your mom is about to make a massive Mom-sin and say something embarrassing.
“Mom–” You try to interject, but it’s too late.
“I mean, she used to really hate you when you guys were kids.” Your mom elaborates, and you exhale, face in your hands, as if the most private secret of your whole life has been revealed– it’s not that deep, and yet you know from the way Conrad is looking at you, he’s never going to let this go.
“I know.” He grins at your mom. “I’m trying to change that.”
You think he’s just saving face.
“Mom, Conrad’s just helping me go shopping for the wedding stuff today, alright? Like the gift and the dress and things?” You try to move her along with your answer, but she stops in her tracks towards the kitchen.
“Really? But he’s the groom’s brother, isn’t he? Why would he be helping some girl that used to hate him, when there’s probably a ton of wedding planning to do?” She prattles on, not noticing how you are losing your patience a little.
Conrad notices, though. He notices everything– guilty of being the older brother, he guesses.
“To be honest, Mrs. Mann,” Conrad starts, and you really hope that he’s not going to start explaining everything about Belly being his ex and awkward tension with her and his brother is preventing him from helping out.
Your mom’s a gossip, and hearing that will probably permanently seal her to your couch, listening to this story for good.
“The wedding’s pretty much covered. Belly and Jere don’t need any help– they’re all just out there partying.” Conrad asserts, which isn’t exactly wrong– it’s more like even if he offered help, they wouldn’t take it at this point.
You’re so glad he can read your signals, somehow.
“Okay. How kind of you, Conrad.” Your mom smiles at him, and gently touches his shoulder. He smiles back, and your mom looks at you, and you know she’s thinking something romantic is happening, because why else would he care enough to come and help you with these things?
As if– this is just a strange friendship. You’re sure as soon as all of these favours are over and done with, you and Conrad will both have gotten a nice experience out of this summer– nothing more.
/
“So, Mann. You used to hate me.” Conrad notes, when you’re both in his car, and you’ve gotten all ready and comfortable, wearing capri jeans and a flowy top.
“Ugh, Fisher, don’t start with that.” You request. “Please? My mom doesn’t know what she’s talking about, I never hated you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I hated Jeremiah.” You try, but all it takes is one sputter on Conrad’s part to make you start laughing. “Okay, no. But I swear I never–”
“No, it’s fine, Mann.” Conrad counters you, as he begins to park in a spot, near the downtown shops of Cousins. “I know you did.”
“What?” You fix a quizzical glance on him. “Even if that was true, what do you mean, you know?”
“I saw the way you used to look at me.” Conrad admits, and you want to refute that– but he’s already exiting the car, shutting the door, and you’re walking after him.
“But– Conrad–” You want to apologize, now, because you’re worried that he’s offended. That he might think you were trying to pull one over him, and that’s why you were so kind to him– so you could laugh in his face now.
You have no intent of doing that, but you don’t want him to have the wrong impression of you, anyways.
“Have you ever noticed that you only use my first name when you’re being nice to me?” He inquires, with a little smirk, and you stop right next to him.
He’s staring down at you. The sun shining through his brown hair, his eyes looking more like the blue of the sky behind him.
“Yeah, because I care about you, Conrad.” You stress, before you can even stop yourself from saying it.
But it’s true, isn’t it? Even if you grow apart after this week of convenient friendship– and you will, surely, as adult friendships typically go– you do care about him.
It feels like a loss to admit it. Like you’re already mourning him.
And so you look up at him tentatively, to see if admitting this has any effect on the fact that he knows you hated him, once upon a time.
Conrad has never look more self-assured. Kind, even, as his eyes glance over yours.
“Relax, Mann.” He grins, finally. “I know you used to hate me. Obviously, you don’t now.”
You do relax, visibly, and Conrad thinks you look much more agreeable– you’re very pretty even when you’re angry, though.
And he’s been on the receiving end of your angry face for years.
“What I want to know,” He says your name, and continues on. “Is why you did. Why you hated me, past tense.”
“Wow, Conrad.” You fold your arms together, and start walking to the nearest dress shop. “We’re certainly having a lot of heart-to-hearts for people who are barely friends.”
“Maybe this is what will make us good friends, then.” Conrad says. “Being honest– the start to any good friendship, right?”
“Besides,” He continues again, as you’re entering the store. “Therapy taught me to stop repressing shit. So I wanna make sure every relationship I have starts on the right foot.”
“Very true.” You take a look over at all the dresses, ignoring the way your face is flushing at Conrad’s use of “relationship.”
“I just hope you’re not trauma bonding with me,” You kid, and your eye is immediately caught by a taupe-silver dress that’s got little gemstones along the bodice.
“No. I’m not.” Conrad says far too seriously, that makes your stomach flip-flop so you excuse yourself to go try on this dress in the fitting room– and another random one you grab on the way there.
/
After zipping yourself in the random dress– a butter yellow monstrosity that was clearly on trend a couple years ago– you poke your head out.
“Still want to know why I hated you, Fisher?” You remark, and he gestures for you to continue from his seat on the couch.
“Definitely.” He leans forward to hear you. And maybe to check out how you look in the dress.
Not in that way, no way. Just to tell you if it looks right for the wedding. If it’s formal enough.
“Okay.” You step out, and before Conrad can say a thing about the dress, you launch into the backstory. “Don’t judge me, okay. In my defense, I was a bratty kid, who didn’t know any better.”
“I might’ve been just as bratty.”
“...” You turn towards the mirror, and then back to him. “I used to really dislike you, because you seemed like this perfect rich kid, who got everything handed to him, and you had the nerve to also be kind of cool and hard to talk to– looking back you might have just been shy, honestly– and I thought we were friends, so it really hurt my feelings, as a kid, that you were rejecting me, because I guess in my fucked up self esteem, as a kid, I thought it was because I was poor. I kinda assumed you hated poorer people, which was wrong.”
“Jesus Christ.” Conrad raises his eyebrows, and you raise a finger.
“Again, I cannot emphasize this enough: As a literal child.” You stress. “I don’t believe that anymore, Conrad.”
“Is that why you make so many comments about me being rich and having a trust fund?” Conrad throws back at you, and you’re actually at a loss for words.
“Um, you kind of out-manoeuvred me on that one.” You admit, and sit down. “Listen– I don’t think you’re some rich asshole now. Those are just jokes.”
“I know, I just thought it was funny to point out.” Conrad laughs to himself. “You’re not wrong, though. I’ve thought the same– we are a bunch of shitty trust fund kids. Although, we don’t have trust funds anymore. It all went to the summer house.”
“Oh.” You don’t know if you should apologize.
“Don’t apologize, please.” Conrad interjects. “I don’t think we will ever be broke or homeless or hungry, so I don’t care not to have the trust fund. And I know that’s a privileged thing to think, too– I just am very aware of my good fortune in life. I didn’t have to pay for college, Mann, I didn’t even have to worry about having good grades because I went to good schools that offer good education as a kid. Life’s incredibly unfair when you’re rich.”
“You really… know what you’re talking about.” You conclude, knowing you can’t add anything, because he’s right, and Conrad nods.
“That’s why I want to be a doctor. Help people legitimately. Not to be a corporate overlord like my dad.” Conrad finishes, and you are genuinely surprised.
You knew Conrad was smart– he was one of those annoying, smart-yet-cool people as a kid, who could have it all– you just didn’t know he was in pre-med.
“I’m seriously impressed and at a loss for words.” You say, and he shakes his head.
“Stop it, it’s nothing that deep.” He shrugs. “I just had this need to prove myself. As one of the good ones, I guess.”
“No such thing as a good oligarch.” You joke, and Conrad chuckles.
“I know.” He leans back in his sofa seat. “I wish you would’ve told me when we were kids.”
“What, that you were kinda stand-offish?”
“No, just that you wanted to still be friends.” Conrad says, and you realize that you did say that.
You did admit to wanting their friendship as a kid, but still would imply that you had it.
“I… I’m not sure if I would’ve articulated it correctly, at that age.” You shrug, and Conrad is staring at you, absentmindedly. “You might’ve thought I was crazy, assuming that we were close enough to even argue being friends.”
“Excuse me?” Conrad frowns. “We were friends. Sure, maybe friendships fall apart, maybe it’s been years of silence since, but I never forgot being friends with you back then.”
You don’t believe him, and he can tell.
“Remember the Fisher-Mann joke we used to make?” Conrad says in a slightly pleading tone, and you do remember.
“If we fused, we’d be the best fisherman Cousins would ever see.” You remember it now. You would clamber onto Conrad’s shoulders and he’d run into the sea, as if you guys could catch a fish like that.
It’s a fond childhood memory, one that you didn’t realize he would remember.
“I didn’t think it meant anything to you, but I’m glad it did.” You smile at him, and he smiles back. “I’m glad we became friends again.”
“Me too.” Conrad stands up, suddenly, and comes forward, which makes your smile drop. “It means I can tell you in confidence that that dress is… not the best.”
You pause, shut your eyes at the audacity, but also secretly commend him for phrasing it in a way that’s so neutral it’s not even hurtful. “Thanks, Fisher.”
“There’s the last name, again. No, don’t worry, I like it, it indicates that you’re not playing nice anymore.” Conrad pushes you back into the fitting room while you protest a little. “Try on the other dress, Mann.”
“The first one?”
“Yeah.”
/
You don’t know why you shied away from it– maybe because it’s a lot more fancy than anything you’re used to wearing.
“This better not be a My Fair Lady situation, Fisher…” You slowly pull back the curtain and walk out.
It’s a silvery, dark gray-taupe silk gown, with spaghetti straps, and a open back with a tie up situation, a long ribbon zig-zagging across your bare back. The bodice is a ruched material fashioned in a sort of sweetheart-neckline, and along the border there are little stones that reflect white in the light.
You’re waiting for him to say something. He’s just staring at you, thinking, and you need to know what he wants to say.
“It doesn’t fit the best, I think…” You turn over in the mirror, seeing how loose it seems around your waist and chest.
You feel a bit out of your element. The nicest dress you own is from Banana Republic.
Conrad comes up behind you.
“Turn around?” He utters, and you stiffen at how close he is. You can feel his breath on the back of your head. “Just trust me.”
You gently nod.
Conrad re-ties the corset so the bodice and waist sit higher and fit you a lot better. His fingers kind of trace your backside for a moment, and you turn, an unspoken whisper of Conrad flitting in your throat.
It dies when he leans in.
“Mann?” He kinda murmurs, and there’s a beat of tension that you didn’t know things were leading towards. “You look great. Really pretty, in fact.”
/
That sentence replays in your head all night, after you’ve gone home, when you’re bundled up in your blankets but you’re unable to sleep.
You’re sweaty, your heart’s racing.
But you can’t help but have a rather girlish excitement over the whole thing– he called you pretty, and he meant it. You know he wouldn’t lie– he said it to help your confidence, too.
So you wouldn’t feel out of place at the wedding.
Afterwards, you had moved away, unsure of what to say, and Conrad blinked, and then turned red, as if he’d been too caught up in the moment.
But he never apologized for it, either, never took back the moment– just let it be.
And then as you went to buy a gift for Jeremiah and Belly– matching cufflinks and earrings– you accidentally bumped into Conrad in the department store, and he held his hand against your waist to steady you, and then moved back again, but not as far as he could have.
You know it’s all new, and unsteady, and there’s no need to question what could just be considered flirting, at this point.
But you’re wary that he could just be clinging onto the next thing, after Belly. You don’t want to be a rebound– you’re still a person with your own feelings.
You hope Conrad sees that, too.
/
It might be crazy for Conrad to even think this, so early on, but to not admit his feelings would be akin to lying.
He’s looking forward to seeing you at the wedding.
That… shouldn’t be his first thought at his brother’s wedding, but he’s stopped caring about that. The only highlight of this ceremony has been getting to know you.
He hasn’t even bothered to pay attention to whatever dance they’ve been practicing this morning. Sure, his moves are floppy, but Jeremiah is just happy that his big brother is actually participating.
Conrad might still be a little angry– that Jere could do that, cheat on someone– but he’s not so cruel so to not be there for Jeremiah. Actually, he finds that he and Belly never had a relationship worth sacrificing Jeremiah for.
By the time Conrad is up by the altar, next to Jeremiah, he doesn’t feel that ache that he felt a week ago. That Belly should’ve been his– that he was entitled to her presence, that she loved him back, that she was this impossible fantasy of a perfect girl, and that he should’ve married her.
No, he doesn’t feel anything but a weird aftertaste to the whole thing, something that feels like what if there was still a chance, even though he knows that’s not worth thinking about. He can see that visually, at least, they’re happy together– whether or not that’s true is up to Jere and Belly.
And when she walks down the aisle, Conrad looks down that way for the first time, not just to see her, but the entire crowd, as well.
Of course his dad invited everyone, through fucking Kayleigh, too.
But at least that means you are there. Next to your mom, wearing the dress Conrad decided was better for you– not that he’s trying to claim ownership.
And how gorgeous you look, Conrad thinks, with your hair done more elegantly, and your face made up to really draw attention to your lovely features.
When your glance finally catches his– and there’s a slight realization there, that it’s him and it’s you, together, looking at each other– Conrad realizes he’s got it for you, badly.
/
At the reception, you’re sitting at your assigned seat in the country club, laughing at a kid dancing along really poorly to whatever shitty EDM music Jeremiah must’ve picked.
There’s a tap on your shoulder.
It’s Conrad, wearing a tuxedo suit, looking especially bold now that he’s left the groom’s table first, to come and talk to you. He seems to genuinely light up when you make eye contact with him.
“Aw, Fisher.” You stand up from your seat, and do something that bolsters your burgeoning relationship further– you hug him, and he hugs you back. “Tell the happy couple I said congrats, will you?”
“Sure.” He whispers in your ear, not letting go of the hug until you do. Still, his hand traces your arm lightly.
You don’t mind that. Not even with your mom noticing and tutting in the background.
And she’s not the only one, either. Lots of other people in relation to the Fishers, whether that be through family or business, are staring at you now.
You know what they’re thinking. Who’s the mystery woman who’s managed to capture a satisfactory match with a wealthy male?
“It’s all very Jane Austen, isn’t it, Conrad?” You whisper, hoping he gets it.
“I know. They’re not even hiding the fact that they’re eyeing you up,” Conrad whispers back, his mouth very nearly grazing your ear, which causes your face to flush. “I hate it. Sorry, but I really do. I don’t care what kind of money or status you have.”
“Oh, Conrad Fisher, my saviour.” You snort, and he lightly shoves your arm, but he’s fighting back laughter.
/
Belly makes a very beautiful bride. You can admit that.
But you wonder if Conrad notices, that with every moment, she glances at him, too.
You’re not exactly jealous– you don’t have enough of a stake in the situation to be jealous– but you’re kind of anxious. You really do like him– you just wonder if there’s anything still lingering inside him for Belly.
You don’t want to be hurt.
She might be married now, but there’s something strangely possessive about the way she looks at him. And Conrad, good natured as ever, doesn’t even bother to look at her unless he’s looking at the married couple.
As if he really, truly, does not care.
/
On the dance floor, Conrad– despite being a horrific dancer, and shy in his own right– has nervous energy to expend, and you seem to be his only friend right now, at least the only person available to dance with, so he’s yanking you out there.
“Fisher, seriously–” You pretend to yank yourself back, in a half ass fashion, but you actually do love to let loose on the dance floor, so you move forward, and he pulls a little too hard, and you kind of land into his arms all by accident.
“Oh.” He says, way too close, gazing into your eyes.
You hold his gaze for a moment longer, and then let go, not wanting to have a great big romantic moment at someone else’s wedding.
At his ex girlfriend’s wedding.
You don’t want to be that girl. Swooping in like a vulture, and grabbing Conrad like he’s just a bunch of vulnerable remains for you to gobble up.
You don’t think Conrad is thinking clearly, either. He won’t stop looking at your face, reading into something.
“What, Mann? What is it?” He asks, and you shake your head, the thumping music getting to you. “You know you can tell me anything at this point–”
“That’s just it, Fisher!” You chide him, and he looks deeply confused. “Can I talk to you? Outside?”
/
Conrad is worried.
Worried you’re about to tell him that you think things are moving too fast, even though he was sure– this time– that everything was mutual.
He doesn’t want to lose you as a friend, too. So he’s preparing to swallow down his feelings– much easier when there’s not such a strong sense of nostalgia wrapped around the whole thing, like Belly.
But he sees you thinking, outside in the cold air of the country club, your brows furrowed in such a level of focus that he knows only you would have– and he really knows that he likes you, and it’s not as simple as just wishing it away.
“Conrad–” You start, but you catch him already looking at you, and you don’t know what to say. “I…”
“Yeah?” He murmurs, staring from your eyes to your lips, and you can’t take it.
“I think that you know already.” You say, instead, and he nods. “Us, that there is kind of an us now, you know?”
“I know.” Conrad sighs, a deep, rumbling sigh, and he takes your hand, holding it in his own.
It’s much more intimate than the first time you held his hand– comforting him as he cried, leaving the pizza place– this is heavy with something else.
Some kind of tension.
“But.” You swallow, eyes flitting between looking at Conrad’s eyes and looking at the ground. “I just feel like, maybe, it’s too soon. You might still love…”
Conrad says your name. “No, listen. I don’t love her anymore.”
“But how do you know you’re not just getting wrapped up in the next fun thing?” You plead with him, and his face drops. “There’s years of growing up together, and then the time that you were in love with her, and that might have been years ago, but I can’t really compare to that, Conrad.”
“I don’t think you do.” Conrad says, and then blinks back in surprise at what he said. “Shit, that’s not what I meant. I meant that you’re entirely different.”
“Oh.” You still frown, though, and Conrad hates that, so he traces the side of your face, trying to get you to smile again.
It sort of works.
“I don’t want to compare you guys.” Conrad says, but he realizes you’re not going to be satisfied with that answer. “Okay, listen. Belly will always be apart of my past, my memories, that much is true.”
You nod, waiting to hear him proclaim that a part of him will always love her.
“But I think it’s a load of bullshit that you think you’re not enough for me. You’re not just a ‘fun thing’, or a rebound, you’re interesting in your own right– you’re your own woman, and if you let me, I’d want to get to know you in that way.” Conrad affirms, his face hard with how serious he means this. “I don’t love her– I loved the idea of her, remember? I was carrying a torch for nothing more than her memory. We talked about this before.”
“But still– what if you’re not over–”
“What if I’m not over some nostalgic feeling I get when I see her?” Conrad answers, cementing that it’s just that. “Childhood nostalgia. When you think destiny is written in the stars, instead of something you make your own. I’m an adult– I can choose to ignore that, and I’m going to, because–”
“I know. You’re gonna say you want something new with me, something you can make on your own.” You add to his poetic phrasing. “I just, I want to ask that we take it slowly, Conrad, if you’re really being serious–”
“So you do like me, Mann?” Conrad interrupts, and you blink at his question.
“Is it not obvious? I do.” You laugh, and Conrad grins.
“I just wanted to hear you say it.” He admits, and you put your face against his chest.
“You’ve been through a lot, Conrad.” You tell him, and he knows that, but it feels good again to hear you say it. “You deserve to be happy.”
“And I think that’s with you.” Conrad insists in a hushed whisper, and then he does what he was thinking of in the dress boutique, when he came far too close for words.
He leans in, holding your face, and kisses you, and it is exciting, because it’s you, and he knows he really does like you, in an entirely different and new way that he ever liked anyone else.
You haven’t been kissed in a while, let alone with someone you actually like, and you’re trying not to get overwhelmed– but Conrad unfortunately is a very good kisser, and it flusters you when he suddenly dives in further, bending down so he can kiss you harder, and you kind of shiver into his mouth, but you feel him groan into it, and you know it’s doing something for him, too.
And you smile– which Conrad mimics, himself, but he doesn’t let you go. Not just yet.
As Conrad kisses you, he thinks that first loves are kind of overrated. Or, that love is new every time you experience it with a new person.
And– as he would tell you later on– you were right to “hate” him back then. Conrad feels like there’s a very thin line between hate and love– you would only ever be so obsessive about someone you cared about.
