Chapter 12: Our Secret Moments: Chapter 12

CAT IT SEEMS to me that I can’t go a week at school this year without something ridiculous happening. First being ambushed into doing the new project, then getting roped into helping Connor by the water fountain and now Wes is walking alongside me with Sam on the other side. I know Coach said they’re like hyperactive puppies, but they have crippling attachment issues too.

“Hey, Cathy,” Wes and Sam say in unison. They smell like ass which is helpful because I was supposed to meet Elle and Nora for lunch. Strangely, I don’t see that happening anymore. Wes slings his arm around my shoulder, causing me to sway a little as he walks with me.

“Samuel, Wesley, to what do I owe this pleasure?” I ask.

“Since you’ve done the first round of interviews, Coach said we should invite you out and luckily for you, we’ve got our monthly painting session at Fired Arts today. Maybe you can put something together about how good I am at painting,” Sam explains and Wes laughs.

“That’s cute. Do you paint little daisies and roses with those giant man hands of yours?” I tease, pushing both of their hands off me.

“Very funny. You should know these man hands can do more than just paint,” Wes says. I pretend to gag. “Redford’s mom owns the store, so we get the pieces for free. It’s an easy Mother’s Day gift or stocking fillers. You should come. Could be good for photo opps. Bring Elle and Nora too. I’m sure they’ll enjoy it.”

If I had one wish in life, it would be a picture of the exact moment I told Elle and Nora to come with me to paint pottery with the football team and have it framed and sent to my house with a bright red bow.

I wasn’t surprised that they said yes. Elle minors in photography and is always taking pictures on her phone and her digital camera whenever she has the chance. She’s also a budding influencer, but she is yet to go completely viral. Nora is here for the vibes and the vibes only.

After rushing around to make our way to the store, we’re huddled together outside the door, ready to walk in when Archer Elliot, Wes and Connor’s roommate, exits the store. If I thought Connor was tall, Archer is something else. He’s like a Greek god – scarily tall, sharp cheekbones, hair so dark-brown that it’s almost black, a compression shirt that just shows he’s built on pure muscle and a tiny gift bag in his huge hands.

“Oh, hi,” Elle says. Out of all of us, she sees him the most. The dance teacher she’s had pretty much since she was born also happens to be Archer’s mom. You wouldn’t believe the amount of awkward run-ins they’ve had. One of those being a time where she bumped into him, and she told him thank you.

“Eleanor,” he greets gruffly. I look between them as Archer’s grey eyes zone in on Elle, she drops her gaze as her cheeks flush pink. Nora saves the day as always.

“Archer Elliot, I never thought I’d see you out in broad daylight,” Nora quips. She’s always going to try her best to ease awkward tension wherever she goes while the rest of us stand and watch painfully.

“Nora Bailey, I never thought I’d see you without that hideous green stuff on your face, but here we are,” he replies, giving her a sarcastic smile.

She jabs a finger in his face. I don’t think he even notices because he’s that fucking tall. “It was a face mask, and you know it was.”

“Are you joining the painting session?” Elle asks quietly. He clears his throat when she looks up at him, averting his eyes to a spot behind us where the main street bustles.

“No. I’m just picking up something,” he responds coolly.

Nora and I shimmy our shoulders at the same time. “For a girlfriend?” I tease. His face remains serious. Jesus. This guy needs to lighten up.

“No,” he says simply, “Goodbye.”

And then he’s just… gone.

“Goodbye?” Nora repeats angrily, pushing open the door. “Who the hell says goodbye? He’s a twenty-year-old man not a viscount from the nineteenth century. He might as well have said good morrow.”

“I think he’s cute,” Elle whispers, looking back as Archer’s huge body walks away from us. We all step into the warmth of the shop, the tiny doorway barely fitting all three of us in there.

“You think that six foot something giant man person is cute? Elle, respectfully, that man could easily break every bone in your body,” Nora retorts, shrugging off her coat.

The loud roars coming from the team messes up my senses and all I can hear for a second is the loud obnoxious chatter coming from the boys. I swear I hear Elle mumble ‘I think I’d let him,’ but it’s too loud to tell.

We walk into the small shop where eight of the team members sit on a low table in the middle of the room. Around the room holds smaller stations with two seats where other team members sit quietly. All the noise is coming from the table of eight as paintbrushes fly around, the pink aprons they’re supposed to be wearing in every place but the correct one – Wes is wearing his on his head like a chef hat and Connor has his on backward.

Not only are they arguing with each other, but there’s a small red-headed girl – probably Michael’s sister – who is bossing them around like it’s her job. Her little apron is covered in paint splatters, her hair an unruly mess as she stands between Wes and Sam, peering down at what they’re drawing.

When Connor’s eyes land on mine, I swear the whole world stops. Suddenly it doesn’t feel like the room is loud and chaotic, it feels like it’s just us.

After seeing a more vulnerable and caring side to him the other day, looking at him now feels different. He brings this weird and overwhelming sense of peace over me. He might look ridiculous and huge at that table with his apron on backwards, but the shy smile he has on his lips when he sees me makes fireworks explode in my chest. Not the loud kind that you hear up-close, but the ones far in the distance that you only see and hardly hear.

I don’t get a second to over analyse it before Wes sees me. “Cathy, Elle, Nor-Nor! Take a seat. We don’t bite,” he says, winking at us.

“I’m just going to stay near the window. I’ll get better lighting that way,” Eleanor says, taking her camera out of its case as she squeezes past me to the window area where two boys paint quietly.

“You two better take a seat before Eve here drags you by your ear,” Connor grumbles. Eve shoots him a look, but when he sticks his tongue out at her, she bursts into giggles. There is something so undeniably hot seeing a man interact with a child.

It’s truly sick and twisted.

Kill me and my uterus now.

We do as we’re told and I take the empty seat next to Connor while Nora takes the seat next to me that is next to Wes and Sam. Elle gets comfortable across the room, lifting her camera and trying different lenses before she starts to walk around the room, looking for a good place to start taking pictures.

Once Nora and I settle on painting a heart shaped jewellery box, all I can focus on is Connor’s leg against mine. We’ve been close before. That closet was certainly something. But this?

I don’t know what it is, but the light brush of his leg against my tights is driving me crazy and it really shouldn’t. Especially not here.

He’s been so careful and practiced with his painting. I still can’t tell what it is. All I know is he selected a plain square and is not revealing what he’s painting to anybody. But I’m curious as hell. He might be an awful painter, but he’s doing something.

I nudge my leg into his. I might as well try, right? “Can you tell me what you’re painting?”

“Nope,” he says quietly, focusing on what he’s doing.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a secret,” he whispers.

“But you can tell me,” I say back. I rub my thigh against his on purpose, trying to get a reaction out of him. I know what I’m doing, and I know how stupid it is because I’m selfishly doing it for myself too. He hisses, readjusting his paintbrush in his hand.

I don’t have any logical reason for why I’m doing this other than it feels good, and I haven’t felt good in a while. That’s why I slip my hand under the table, gently resting it on his knee in the most subtle way I can. My hand and body instantly flare up at his proximity.

“Catherine,” he bites out.

“Connor,” I say back. I turn to look at him, but he’s refusing to catch my eye. I bump my shoulder into his. “Just tell me what you’re painting.”

“It’s for–”

“You’re doing really well, Connor,” Eve says, appearing out of thin air. She looks down at Connor’s something, smiling at it. As much as the girl is adorable, she kind of ruined our moment. Was it even a moment, or did I make that up myself?

“Thank you, Eve,” he replies, smiling at her. From this position with us way down on the floor, they’re almost face to face but she just about towers over him. “I’m not as good as you though,” he says sweetly. This man really knows how to charm people because he’s even got this little girl almost as red as her hair. Connor’s shoulder bumps into mine. “You know the ones in the window? Eve painted those ones.”

“They’re not my best work,” she sighs wistfully like she’s a million years old. Small humans are strange. Funny, but strange.

“They’re still great. I think you’re my favourite artist, Eve,” Connor coos and she tries to hide her giddy smile before she walks away.

“You’re good with kids, Connie,” I say, pulling my hand away from his knee and back to my piece. He shrugs as if it’s not a big deal. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but I know if I write anything about this in my report, the girls at Drayton will go absolutely feral. And honestly, me too.

It’s not long before the boys are restless again and Wes at some point tackled Nora to the floor. They’re both covered in paint, somehow getting the acrylics from a drawer Mrs Redford and Eve told us not to go into. Nora’s face is almost completely yellow with purple streaks running down across her face while Wes’s face pretty much looks like a rainbow.

While they play-fight like kindergarteners, Elle uses the opportunity to take photos getting every possible angle she can of those two idiots.

“Can you paint inside the lines?” Eve asks, stepping behind Sam and looking at the turtle he’s painting. Connor and I snicker, knowing we haven’t got told off in a while.

“Yes, inside the lines, you idiot,” Oliver says from the other side of the table. He’s one to talk. He’s got told off twice by Eve in the last ten minutes and he’s had to restart his butterfly three times.

“That’s a bad word,” Eve points out, whispering.

“Boys say bad words all the time,” I say to her. Connor bumps his knee into mine, coughing into his hand as he says ‘liar’ and Eve giggles, sitting down in the seat Wes abandoned.

“I heard that girl over there say a bad word,” Eve whispers to us as she points down at the floor where Nora is very aggressively playing with Wes as he pins his knees on either side of her, not letting her get her paintbrush in his face. “She called the boy she’s fighting with a mother–”

“Fucker!” Wes shouts. Oh my god. We’re going to get kicked out of here even though they booked out the store. “You got paint in my ear,” he groans, sitting back on his heels as Nora tries to scoot out from underneath him but he keeps one hand on her stomach, the other in his ear. “How the hell did you get paint in my ear?”

“I look like a Minion, you imbecile,” Nora retorts, pushing his hand off her. I hear the click of Elle’s camera as she giggles from behind us. “How do you think I feel?”

“You look like a cute minion, though. Like the tiny one who doesn’t say anything, but has those cute little eyes,” Wes coos, adding a dot of black paint on her nose. She snatches the paint brush out of his hand, turning him around so she’s straddling him.

“I’m going to kill you,” she threatens.

These two, I swear.

Connor shakes his head at them like a disappointed dad as Eve turns back to us. “Mikey says that boys are only mean to girls that they really really like. Does that mean they’re going to get married?”

I look down at them who are still rolling around on the ground. “Nora and Wes?” I laugh.

Connor scoffs. “There’s a better chance of flying cars than that fu–” Eve’s innocent green eyes widen before Connor stops himself. “Fudging silly boy marrying my sister,” he says smoothly.

The second the words leave his mouth, everyone is looking down at them again. Wes has somehow managed to get on top of her again as he pins his knees on either side of her, holding her hands above her head as she writhes beneath him.

“Can’t paint me now, can you, Nor?” he asks playfully.

“You’re so annoying,” she says, laughing. If she wasn’t covered in paint, she would definitely be blushing right now. She can act tough all she wants, but I know that sometimes with the things Wes says or does, she clearly gets flustered over it. He’s the world’s biggest flirt, and she’s taken, but sometimes that line is on the brink of breaking.

“I’m annoying, huh?” he teases, and she nods, unable to stop laughing. He rubs his painted cheek against hers, causing the colours on their faces to merge together into a deep, dirty, green-purple colour. “Is this annoying? Is this annoying? Is this annoying?”

She’s still giggling as she says, “Yes. Oh my god, Wes. Stop!”

“That’s not usually what women say to me when they’re in this position,” Wes says.

Connor sighs beside me loudly. “Get off her, you animal,” he says to Wes and eventually he does. Not before covering her face with another blob of paint.

Yep.

Damn puppies.

All of them.

CONNOR Maybe painting in silence while the rest of the team runs wild is my calling. I’m not exactly great at it, but every month, I try something new in hopes of getting better. I guess the trying part is what counts.

I’ve spent most of the day trying to pretend that Catherine’s proximity doesn’t make me want to curl up in her lap and let her hold me. Is that weird? Probably. Whatever. I just don’t understand how she can come in here, in that black skirt and tights and not expect me to lose my fucking mind.

Once Nora and Wes have cleaned up from their fight and we’re all back around the small table again, I watch as Cat watches everybody else. I don’t know if this is part of her process for getting to know us as a team, but she seems to be so lost in whatever bullshit Sam is feeding her. The team is a mess on and off the pitch which is understandable. But there are moments like these where we feel like a team in nearly every aspect of life.

“I bet this isn’t what you thought you’d be getting into when you got told about this, huh?” Sam asks, not taking his eyes off his turtle. Cat shakes her head, laughing a little.

“No, but it’s fun, though. It’s better than being in that tiny classroom with you guys,” she says before adding quietly, “You’re like a little family.”

I shrug. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” she says, wiping her hands with a wet wipe before pulling up her phone. “That’s a good question, actually. Who would you say are the parents of the group? People do that all the time for celebrity friendship groups. It could be a good segment for a poll of some sorts.”

Wes and Sam exchange a mischievous look. “Well, we all know who the mom is,” Wes says, doing a very bad job at trying to discreetly point his head in my direction.

That fucker.

“Oh, one hundred percent,” Oliver chimes in. He turns to Catherine, pulling all of her attention on him. “You should have seen the day you came into the locker room. He was telling us all that we couldn’t go anywhere near–”

“Okay,” I say, cutting him off as Cat leans further into my side, only to get closer to him to listen to his story. Her scent throws me off a little and the memory of her hand on my knee. She does not need to know that I told them to stay away from her just because I secretly want her to myself. It’s true, though. Catherine has always been my little secret. She had been my first crush and has been the only reason I ever looked forward to my English class at the thought of bumping into her. She’d always been my Catherine before she ever knew it. “So, if I’m the mom then who is the dad?”

Cat studies me for a second, silently judging me as if she knows Oliver was about to say something stupid.

“Me, obviously,” Sam says proudly.

“Just because you have a kink for people calling you ‘daddy’ does not make you the dad of the group,” Wes says, pinning his arms across his chest, pouting.

“So, you can see who is so obviously the moody child,” Nora says, ruffling Wes’s hair like he’s a puppy. The satisfied grin on his face shows that he loves every single second of attention my sister gives him.

“Yeah,” I say quietly, laughing at the two of them. I look over at Cat, but she’s already looking at me. “I guess you could call us a family.”

Once everyone has finally settled down and ready to clean up, I offer to help clean  the pallets and paint pots because I know Catherine is there. She was the first one up when Mrs Redford asked people to help her with the washing up.

When we’re alone again, I don’t know what to say so I stick to drying whilst she washes. She keeps glancing over at me, smirking a little before shaking her head as if she’s about to say something before thinking better of it. I’m doing the same thing – stupidly opening my mouth just to close it again when the words don’t come.

“You can relax, you know? I’m not going to ask you any questions,” she says quietly. She passes me the last pot and I dry it off.

“I know,” I reply, drying off my hands and leaning back against the counter as she drains the water from the sink. Once she’s done, she dries off her hands too, studying me, those dark brown eyes figuring me out like a puzzle.

“Then why do you look so tense?” she asks, moving to stand in front of me. My heartbeat instantly picks up and I have no idea why. She looks so much shorter like this even though I’m leaning back on my hands.

“I’m not,” I breathe out, but it sounds and feels like a lie. I’m always a little tense, always wound a little too tight, but that’s just the way I am. I’m only extra anxious now because she’s in front of me, looking up at me like she…

I shake my head at the thought, dropping my gaze to the floor. “Connor,” she presses, her voice sounding slightly desperate. She reaches out, latching her small hand over mine as she steps closer to me. I turn my hand around on the counter, my palm up, knowing it’ll calm me. I don’t even have to say anything before she starts to massage my palm. Her touch is so soft and gentle. So her. “Not tense, huh?” she asks, moving her thumbs around my palm. I shrug. “Be real with me.”

I sigh, knowing I won’t be able to cower and back away from this like I could try. “I’m just worried I won’t be any good at the whole social media thing like you mentioned earlier. I like seeing other people do it and Wes and Sam are great at it, but I don’t know… Maybe I’m not as good at it as them. It doesn’t feel like me.”

She nods but she doesn’t stop working her fingers over my palm. “I saw that TikTok that was posted – the Love Story one. You were really good, Connie.” My chest pinches at the compliment. “I said I’m going to help you, so I will. Your birthday is next weekend, just relax until then, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

My mouth tugs at the idea.

We.

“Are you suggesting that we’re a team, Catherine?” I tease, catching her hand in mine so I can lock my fingers with hers.

“Something like that,” she whispers.

It feels like time stops when she says that, when she looks up at me and for the first time in a while, I see a sense of wonder in her eyes. A sense of what-if. A slight sense of hope. Maybe it’s nothing and it’s my overly optimistic brain when it comes to her, but I swear I feel the energy between us crackling. And for one of the first times, it doesn’t feel like it’s just me that feels it.

She keeps her eyes locked with mine as I drop our interlocked hands to the side, using my other hand to slip around her waist, pulling her into me. She gasps, her mouth parting desperately. The feel of her beneath my hand is maddening. It’s wholly distracting, and I just want more of it.

“Connor,” she murmurs, a half-plea. The sound goes straight to my dick, my hand flexing in her hip that the only sound that comes out of me is a low hum of approval. “What are we–”

The door swings open as Mrs Redford comes rushing in. Catherine leaps apart from me as if I have the fucking plague. Her eyes fall to the floor as Mrs R walks over to us, her face lit up in child-like happiness as she looks around at the clean back-room.

“You two are lifesavers,” she exclaims. “You really make a good team.”