First and Forever (Heartache Duet #2) - Jay McLean Page 0,65
stupid,” I admit. “Go and have a good time. The best time. Forget me.”
“All right. I won’t forget you, but I will try to have a good time without you.”
“Good.”
“You’re going to be late to multimedia, and Miss Salas has been a raging bitch lately.”
“I know.” I kiss him again, and this time, I let my tongue do the talking.
When we pull apart, he asks, “Hey, when I get back, will you do that thing with your tongue on my—”
Laughing, I start to walk away from him for the second time and shout, so everyone around us can hear, “Yes, Connor! I promise! When you get back, I’ll wax your nipples again! Your asshole, too!”
Chapter 27
Ava
My house looks like the Fourth of July the next day, with red, white and blue streamers and balloons scattered throughout the living room. It was Mom’s idea, and I was all for it. Trevor holds on to a lone maroon balloon and raises it in the air. “Gig ‘em, Aggies!” He’s still butt-hurt thinking we never cared about his games, but it was hard to show how proud we were of him when he was all the way in Texas.
We set up around the TV with popcorn and drinks. Mom wears her All-American jersey, and I wear one of Connor’s Wildcats jerseys. Every minute closer to game time, my excitement seems to double. It’s his first national broadcast, and I’m so thrilled for him.
I take a photo of the room and Mom and send them both to Connor with the caption:
We’re just a little excited. Can you tell?
And then one of Trevor frowning with his balloon and write:
He doesn’t count.
I wait until it’s only minutes before the game to send:
I know you won’t see this until after the game, but I just want you to know how proud I am of you, of everything you’ve accomplished and everything you are. No matter what happens today, or tomorrow, or a year from now, you’ll always be my number one, #3. I love you more than the magic inside you.
“Here he is,” Mom says, slapping my leg a little too excitedly.
Trevor turns up the volume as the East team enters the court. They file into a line for the national anthem, and the camera moves past each player. My breath halts when Connor appears on the screen, and then disappears completely when I notice the huge black writing on both his arms. “Did he get tattoos overnight?” Trevor murmurs.
“Go back,” I demand.
“It’s a live stream, dumbass.”
I grunt, wanting to know what the hell’s on his arms. Luckily, just a few minutes later while showing the warm-ups, the announcers seem as intrigued as I am. “What’s on Ledger’s arms?” one of them asks.
“Who knows? Kids with full-sleeve tattoos are a thing these days,” the other retorts.
“Can we zoom in on his arms?” says the first, and the cameraman must hear because he focuses in on one of Connor’s arms while he shoots from the three-point line.
“Is that…” It’s clear the first announcer is trying to read it, but I already know what it says, and my heart plummets from the weight of Connor’s love.
“Ava E. D. Diaz,” I whisper, my smile unrestrained. “Oh, my God…”
“It seems to be a girl’s name,” the announcer laughs out. “What a lucky girl!”
“What’s on the other arm?”
The camera focuses on his other arm, and my grin is so pathetically stupid I can’t help but cry. “First and Forever.”
“Marry him, Ava,” Mom orders.
I plan to…
I keep that thought to myself.
Connor
Ava: Oh, you! I don’t even know what to say, Connor. You blow me away every damn day. I can’t believe you did that!
Ava: Damn, #3. Way to show up!
Ava: Holy shit of a dunk! That backboard’s crying for its mama. I can hear it from here!!!
Ava: Dude, you need to give your opponent a break.
Ava: How the hell were you ranked so low when you’re the best player out there!
Ava: Your agent better be watching this. Making calls. Working deals!
Ava: My boy!!!
Ava: Fuck. I think I’ve lost my voice.
Ava: OMG!!!
Ava: CONNOR LEDGER, EVERYONE!! MV motherfucking P.
Ava: MVP! MVP! MVP!
Ava: Okay, I’m done!
Ava: MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP!
Ava: Okay, now I’m really done.
Ava: You’re so getting lucky when you get back. I’ll do that thing with my tongue that you like. For, like, a month. Every night. Multiple times.