thatgirlwholikestowritestories

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

Hamas just released its proposal for a permanent ceasefire. Israel has dismissed all of their proposals as “unrealistic” — and that has been echoed across the U.S. corporate media.

Here are the actual proposals from each side.

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

Okay but who saw the footage of the aftermath of the Israeli bombing of a flat in Beirut last night, in which they assassinated Hamas members? Here's a picture fyr

Do you see how precise the attack was? There are buildings on both sides of the targeted flat and they look almost intact!

The accuracy is quite intriguing when you think of all the flattened neighbourhoods in Gaza and the residential buildings turned to dust, where supposed Hamas leaders were, according to Israel. Nearly 70% of Gaza's homes and about half of its buildings have been destroyed by Israel since October, killing over 20,000 Palestinians in the process.

If it doesn't make sense to you it's because you're using the wrong words to describe and understand this. Try "ethnic cleansing" and/or "genocide" next.

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

The Summer I Fucked Up (Ch 33)

A Conrad predominant retelling of The Summer I Turned Pretty TV show and book series.

Did you read the books and want to understand what was going on in that little noggin of his? Read my fic to find out that this man has zero thoughts

Chapter list

CONRAD

Torture. That’s what dinner that night was.

They’d all gone to the new restaurant in town, all the kids and their parents too. Conrad sat as far away as physically possible from the happy couple which, unfortunately, seated him right next Jere’s asshole friends.

Belly wasn’t looking at him like last time, and Conrad couldn’t look at her. He felt like he was going out of his mind. Sitting there at the table with everyone, cheersing when his dad made a toast, trying not to watch when Jere kissed her in front of all of them.

He hated the contempt that pulsed through him at the sight of Jere, especially around Belly. Jere was still his brother who he loved dearly, but it had already been hard enough accepting Jere and Belly’s relationship before he’d heard he slept with some girl in Cabo. Now it was nearly impossible. Made worse by the fact that he now knew that Belly loved him back too.

It was just Laurel and Conrad at the house after dinner. They’d come straight back when Jere and Belly took their friend’s for ice cream at the boardwalk and John and Adam went back to their hotels.

Conrad placed one foot on the stairs, intending to just go crash, when Laurel stopped him, “Hey, let’s have a beer, Connie. I think we deserve it, don’t you?”

They sat at the kitchen table with their beers. She clinked his beer, saying, “To . . . what should we toast to?”

“What else? To the happy couple.”

Bitterness laced his tongue.

Without looking at him, Laurel said, “How are you doing?”

“Good.” He played with the label on the bottle. “Great.”

“Come on. This is your Laura you’re talking to. Tell me. How are you feeling?”

“Honestly?” Conrad swigged his beer. “It’s pretty much killing me.”

He hadn’t admitted it to anyone else. He’d avoided it when the topic had been broached, but the last few days had him feeling like a raw nerve.

Laurel looked back at him, her face tender. “I’m sorry. I know you love her a lot, kid. This must be really hard on you.”

He couldn’t reply, his throat was closing up. Pressure was building up behind his eyes. He was going to cry in front of her. It was the way she’d said it, Conrad felt like his mum was right there, knowing without him having to tell her.

He felt so empty. He just wanted his mum. If she was here, everything would make sense, he could get through this. Maybe they wouldn’t even be here at all. Maybe it would have been him and Belly. They’d be happy and in love and it’d be a summer just like any of the others where they were all together. The animosity wouldn’t be pulling them apart.

Laurel reached over and took his hand in hers. It was slightly rougher than Susannah’s had been. He tried to pull it away, but she held on tighter.

“We’ll get through it tomorrow, I promise. It’ll be you and me, kid.” Squeezing his hand, she said, “God, I miss your mom.”

“Me too.” He bit his lip. It threatened to quiver.

“We really need her right now, don’t we?”

Conrad couldn’t hold it in anymore. He bowed my head and started to cry. Laurel stayed holding onto him.

His dreams were the only place he got to experience anything pleasant these days, so he was not impressed when Steven shook his bed, waking him.

“Have you seen Jere?” he demanded.

“I was asleep until three seconds ago,” Conrad muttered, eyes still closed, hoping he could recapture the dream. He couldn’t remember anything other than a silky sensation through his fingers and some twinkling fairy lights. “How could I have seen him?”

Steven stopped shaking the bed and sat down on the edge. “He’s gone, man. I can’t find him anywhere, and he left his phone. What the hell happened last night?”

Conrad shot upright, swearing internally. Belly must have told him. Why else would Jeremiah be missing on the day of his wedding without any of the essentials? “I don’t know,” Conrad said, rubbing his eyes.

“What are we gonna do?”

Conrad got up, and started putting on whatever clothes he could find. “Go ahead and get dressed. I’ll look for him. Don’t tell Belly anything.”

Steven wasn’t sure about keeping Belly out of the loop, but Conrad convinced him that if he wasn’t back in an hour, he could tell her. He’d also told Steven that he thought he knew where Jere was, but that was a fat lie. He had no idea, but he knew that he broke it, so he had to be the one to fix it.

Laurel stopped him on the way out, saying she was looking for Jere too to give him something. Conrad lied to her too, saying that Jere was out getting something for the wedding and that Conrad was going to meet him now. When he offered to give it to him, she gave him an envelope from his mother’s stationary with Jere’s name on the front.

Smiling, Laurel said, “You know, I think it might be nicer this way, coming from you. Beck would like that, don’t you think?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I think she would.” There was no way Conrad was coming back without Jere.

He didn’t have any idea where Jere would have gone, so Conrad couldn’t do anything but drive around and check place in Cousins. Conrad checked his watch every 10 seconds, overly aware that his hour was slipping away. He was just praying that Jeremiah hadn’t gone to Boston.

Where would Jeremiah go if he was upset? To Susannah. But where? In Cousins she was everywhere. Then it came to him—the garden. Maybe Jere had gone to the garden at the shelter.

He called Steven and got an extra half an hour before Steven would tell Belly that Jere was missing.

Pulling into the parking lot, Conrad spotted Jere’s car straight away. Equal measures of relief and dread flooded his body. He’d found Jere, but it was Conrad’s fault he’d even disappeared in the first place.

Jere was sitting on a bench by the garden, his head in his hands. He was still in last night’s clothes. His head snapped up when he heard Conrad coming. “I’m warning you, man. Don’t come near me right now.”

I kept walking. When I was standing right in front of him, I said, “Come back to the house with me.”

He glowered. “Fuck you.”

“You’re supposed to be getting married in a couple of hours. We don’t have time to do this right now. Just hit me. It’ll make you feel better.” Conrad tried to pick up Jere’s arm, and he shoved him off.

“No, it’ll make you feel better. You don’t deserve to feel better. But after the shady shit you pulled, I should beat the crap out of you.”

“Then do it,” Conrad said. “And then let’s go. Belly’s waiting for you. Don’t make her wait on her wedding day.”

“Shut up!” he yelled, lunging at Conrad, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. “You don’t get to talk to me about her.”

Conrad had never seen this side of Jere before. Conrad had been the one quick to anger. Jeremiah had always hated when he fought. He never seemed to have a hateful bone in his body. Now, Jere had this terrible look in his eyes, and it was Conrad’s fault.

“Come on, man. Please. I’m begging you.”

“Why? Because you still love her, right?” He didn’t wait for Conrad to answer. “What I want to know is, if you still had feelings for her, why did you give me the go-ahead, huh? I did the right thing. I didn’t go behind your back. I asked you, straight up. You told me you were over her.”

“You weren’t exactly asking for my permission when I walked in on you kissing her in your car. Yeah, I still gave you the go-ahead, because I trusted you to take care of her and treat her right. Then you go and cheat on her in Cabo during spring break. So maybe I should be the one asking if you love her or not.” As soon as I got the last word out, Jere’s fist was connecting with Conrad’s face, hard. It was like getting hit with a ten-foot wave—all I could hear was the ringing in his ears. Conrad staggered backward. “Good.” He gasped. “Can we get out of here now?”

He punched him again. This time Conrad fell to the ground. The taste of metal filled his mouth.

“Shut up!” he yelled. “Don’t talk to me about who loves Belly more. I’ve always loved her. Not you. You treated her like garbage. You left her so many times, man. You’re a coward. Even now, you can’t admit it to my face.”

Breathing hard, Conrad spat out a mouthful of blood and said, “Fine. I love her. I admit it. Sometimes—sometimes I think she’s the only girl I could ever be with. But Jere, she picked you. You’re the one she wants to marry. Not me.” Conrad pulled the envelope out of his pocket, stumbled up, and pushed it at his chest. “Read this. It’s for you, from Mom. For your wedding day.”

Swallowing, he tore the envelope open. Conrad watched him as he read, hoping, knowing, his mom would have the right words. She always knew what to say to Jeremiah.

Jere started to cry as he read, and Conrad turned his head away. He wished that Susannah was here to sort it all out, to talk to them both and calm them down, but the letter would have to do in her absence.

“I’m going back,” he finally said. “But not with you. You’re not my brother anymore. You’re dead to me. I don’t want you at my wedding. I don’t want you in my life. I want you gone.”

“Jere—”

“I hope you said everything you needed to say to her. Because after this, you’re never seeing her again. Or me. It’s over. You and I are done.” He handed Conrad the letter. “This is yours, not mine.”

Then he left.

Conrad sat on the bench and opened the paper up.

Dear Conrad,

My sweet boy. Today is your wedding day and it’s one of my deepest regrets that I am not there to witness it, but I hope that you feel nothing but happiness and excitement. I imagine you in your suit, maybe wearing the cufflinks that your father wore at our wedding, waiting at the alter with bated breath.  

I picture you with someone bright, in all sense of the word— someone radiant. You used to be so scared of the dark, but lately you get so caught up in it, I’m sometimes afraid you’ll forget about the light. I hope she reminds you of it. I hope she keeps you there.

I am grateful, though, that I got to see you in love at least once. Maybe all my hopes and dreams and jokes came true and you’re marrying her. But if destiny has other plans, I just hope she makes you just as happy. I hope that it’s easier for you to express. My dear Connie, I want you to love openly and without restraint. It’s my deepest wish for you.

All my love always, Mum

Then Conrad started crying too.

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

The Summer I Fucked Up (Ch 32)

A Conrad predominant retelling of The Summer I Turned Pretty TV show and book series.

Did you read the books and want to understand what was going on in that little noggin of his? Read my fic to find out that this man has zero thoughts

Chapter list

CONRAD

Conrad had lain in bed that night and not slept a wink. His heart pumped ice-cold razor blades throughout his body.

You and I were never anything.

The words travelled from his fractured heart through his lungs and his stomach and all the way to his toes. He knew she didn’t mean it. Conrad thought of the first time they’d kissed. Conrad thought of the first Christmas they spent together. Conrad thought of their Valentine’s Day. He knew she didn’t mean it. Maybe everything he’d seen since she’d been back in Cousins with him this time around, maybe all of that was fake, stuff he’d imagined. But everything before that, before he’d torn it all down the first time? That had been something. He knew it from the looks they’d shared, the kisses, the quiet whispers. It had been something.

Conrad ran into her as she came out of the bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a towel. She couldn’t even meet his eyes, and reality hit him. He had to get out of the house, even just a little while. He grabbed his car keys and started driving.

He didn’t have a destination in mind. Just the act of driving familiar streets had always been calming. When he first started at college, he’d enjoyed driving around really early in the morning when everyone else was sleeping. This didn’t have exactly the same feel, but it would do.

He’d spent all night thinking of that one line. He’d barely thought about the rest. He’d admitted to his brother’s fiancée that he was in love with her, that he always had been. He thought the earth might swallow him whole when he thought about facing either of them again. He was still a best man. He was supposed to playing the guitar as she walked down the aisle.

Conrad found himself stopped in front of the grocery store, and his stomach grumbled. He went inside and got some stuff to make him a sandwich when he got home.

As he drove home, he made a decision. He would apologise. He couldn’t leave his heart out there teetering on the ledge in her hands, so he would just say he was drunk. Conrad had maybe three beers at most, but it wouldn’t matter. He needed to come back from this.

He went into the kitchen and made himself a sandwich.

Conrad was about halfway through it when Belly came into the kitchen. She froze like a deer in headlights, he needed to make sure she didn’t run before he spoke again. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“I’m about to go into town to run some errands,” She wasn’t looking at him—couldn’t. She was looking at a spot slightly over his shoulder. “Wedding stuff.”

Belly started to walk away, but he followed her out to the porch.

“Listen, I’m sorry about last night.”

He was. He was so sorry. Sorry that he’d opened his stupid mouth and said everything that his heart had begged him to.

She didn’t say anything.

“Will you do me a favour? Will you just forget everything I said? I was out of my mind last night, drunk off my ass. Being here again, it just brought back a lot of stuff. But it’s all ancient history, I know that.” He hated how the lies tasted on his tongue, but they were necessary. He flashed a slight, ironic kind of smile to cover it. “Honestly, I can barely remember what I said, but I’m sure that whatever it was, it was out of line. I’m really sorry.”

Looking at Belly, he was reminded of when Laurel had talked Adam out of selling the house. Her eyes were lit with such intense fury that Conrad was concerned he was about to burst into flames. He wondered if this is what Adam had felt staring down Laurel that time. Still, Conrad had to keep his composure if this was going to work.

Belly’s mouth opened and closed and opened and closed, until finally she managed to say, in a somewhat even tone, “You weren’t drunk.”

“Yeah, I really was.” This time he gave her an apologetic smile.

“You brought up all that the weekend of my wedding, and now you want me to just ‘forget it’? You’re sick. Don’t you get that you can’t play with people like that?”

Conrad’s smile faded. “Hold on a second. Belly—”

“Don’t say my name.” She backed away from him. “Don’t even think it. In fact, don’t ever speak to me again.”

He couldn’t live a world like that. He couldn’t even imagine it. He’d moved across the country, and she’d still captivated his thoughts. Conrad could still fix this. He could play it off.

Again with the ironic half smile, he said, “Well, that would be kind of hard, considering the fact that you’re marrying my brother. Come on, Belly.”

Anger. Disgust. Annoyance. It all played out on her face.

“I want you to leave,” She spat. It was so unlike her, and Conrad regretted that, again, he was turning her into a different person. “Make up one of your bullshit excuses and just go. Go back to Boston or California. I don’t care where. I just want you gone.”

His eye twitched. “I’m not leaving.”

“Go,” She said, shoving him, hard. “Just go.”

His composure failed him. He could only hold a shattered heart together with duct tape for so long.

His voice cracking, he said, “What did you expect me to say to you, Belly?”

“Stop saying my name!” She screamed.

“What do you want from me?” he yelled back. “I laid myself fucking bare last night! I put it all out there, and you shut me down. Rightfully so. I get that I shouldn’t have said any of that stuff to you. But now here I am trying to find a way to come out of this with just a little fragment of pride so I can look you in the eye when this is all over, and you won’t even let me have that. You broke my heart last night, all right? Is that what you want to hear?”

She looked at a loss for words until she said, “You really are heartless.”

“No, I think you might actually be the heartless one,” he said.

He turned on his heel, reaching into his pocket for his car keys.

Behind him, Belly called, “What is that supposed to mean?” She walked up right behind and twisted his arm toward me so they were facing each other. “Tell me what you meant by that.”

“You know what it means.” Conrad jerked away from her. “I still love you. I never stopped. I think you know it. I think you’ve known it all along.”

Her eyes flickered for a moment. There. There it was. She’d shoved her love for him behind the shutters, away from the light. It was there. He hadn’t been imagining it.  

Her lips formed a straight line. She shook her said, but her voice was softer than it had been. “That’s not true.”

“Don’t lie.”

She had to have known. Apparently, everyone else did. Laurel knew when she asked meaningfully over her coffee cup. Steven knew when he clapped him on the back and asked how he was handling the wedding. Jere knew in those looks he would throw Conrad whenever he and Belly had been left alone or after every kiss Jere planted on her lips. Conrad knew in every moment, every word, every silence. He knew it in the distance and the lack of it. They all knew. Why didn’t she?

She shook her head again. She could deny it all she wanted, but the truth was written all over her face. She couldn’t hide it anymore. Neither could he.

“Have it your way. But I’m not going to pretend for you anymore.” With that, he walked down the steps and to his car.

In his review mirror, he saw her sink onto the deck.

His heart hadn’t stopped racing since he’d driven away.

The words were finally out in the open rather than weighing his chest down. It was a relief.  Conrad was in an elated sort of daze, on a high. She loved him. He didn’t need to hear her say it out loud, he just felt the truth of it settled in him.

But now what? So many questions crowded his mind. He thought that if he asked her to go with her, she would, but where would that leave everyone else. Jere, Laurel, Adam. It would hurt them all. Would they ever forgive them? And, aside from that, where would he be leading her if he took her away.

Underneath it all, regret festered. He kicked himself. Why had he waited so long? Of all the times he could have told her, could have come clean, he waited until the day before her wedding. Twenty-four hours later and she’d be married to his brother.

He drove around town for a while and to the water, but before long there was nowhere else to go but back home. Everyone’s cars were gone when he got back, and he sighed with relief until he saw Taylor sitting on the front porch.

“Where is everybody?” Conrad asked her.

“Well hello to you, too.” She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. “They went sailing.”

“Why didn’t you go with them?”

“I get seasick.” Taylor eyed Conrad. “I need to talk to you.”

Warily, he eyed her back. “About what?”

She pointed at the chair next to hers. “Come sit down first.”

Conrad sat.

He didn’t know what to expect. He hadn’t had much to do with Taylor except the couple times she’d come to the beach house over the summers. The summer he and Belly had gotten together Taylor had some choice words for him over the way he had acted. He didn’t blame her.

“What did you say to Belly last night?”

He averted his eyes. “What did she tell you?”

“Nothing. But I can tell something’s wrong. I know she was crying last night. Her eyes were completely swollen this morning. I would be willing to bet money that she was crying because of you. Again. Nice one, Conrad.”

Belly hadn’t cried when they talked out on the beach. She had definitely been on the verge, but she must have waited until he wasn’t there to see it. His chest tightened, and he replied, “It’s none of your business.”

Taylor glared at him. “Belly is my oldest friend in the world. Of course it’s my business. I’m warning you, Conrad. Leave her alone. You’re confusing her. Again.”

He didn’t want to hear it. Conrad was already confused enough about what to do. He didn’t need Taylor sticking her nose in it as well.

Conrad started to stand up. “Are we done?”

“No. Sit your ass back down.”

He sat down again.

“Do you have any idea how badly you’ve hurt her, over and over again? You treat her like a toy that you just pick up and play with whenever you feel like it. You’re like a little boy. Someone else took what was yours, and you don’t like that one bit, so you swoop in and shit all over everything just because you can.”

Conrad exhaled. “That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

She bit her lip. “Belly told me that a part of her will always love you. Are you still trying to tell me you don’t care?”

Hope swelled in his chest so much so it hurt to breathe. “I never said I didn’t care.”

“You’re probably the only one who could stop her from going though with this wedding. But you’d better be damn sure you still want her, because if you don’t, you’re just fucking up their lives for no reason.” She put her sunglasses back on. “Don’t fuck up my best friend’s life, Conrad. Don’t be a selfish bastard like usual. Be the good guy she says you are. Let her go.”

Be the good guy she says you are.

Conrad thought he’d resolved to fight for her, to say ‘screw it’, and take her hand and run without a thought for anyone else, but then he wouldn’t be that good guy she thought he was. He’d be the selfish bastard Taylor said he is. But he’d have Belly.

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

The Summer I Fucked Up (Ch 31)

A Conrad predominant retelling of The Summer I Turned Pretty TV show and book series.

Did you read the books and want to understand what was going on in that little noggin of his? Read my fic to find out that this man has zero thoughts

Chapter list

CONRAD

Everything just went back to normal after that. Conrad wouldn’t let it be any other way. They didn’t need to act like something happened because nothing happened. It was the blood loss. It was all in his head. They’d both just had a temporary moment of insanity. Nothing happened. Except when he went to sleep it off, he dreamt they were still together.

Everyone else arrived the next day, Steven, Taylor, Jere, and their friends from college.

Conrad pulled Steven into a quick hug, just thankful to see someone who didn’t cause him too many conflicting emotions.

“Where’s your better half?” Conrad asked.

“Ah, Shayla’s grandma had a fall so she couldn’t make it for Belly’s bachelorette, but she’ll still be here for the wedding in a couple days.”

They walked into the kitchen, Conrad leaning against the counter.

“Me, Jere, and his mates are gonna head out for a surf. You in?” Steven was already pulling a beer from the fridge and taking a sip. The man never wasted any time.

“Yeah, we could probably—”

“Absolutely not,” Belly had walked into the kitchen as he’d started saying it, reaching for a glass of water. “Conrad, you got your ass kicked out there yesterday. You’re not going anywhere near the water until your bandage comes off.”

Conrad was saved from having to reply as Steven took notice of the bandage on his leg. “Oh, gee man, that does look pretty gnarly. Belly’s probably right.”

Conrad sneered at Belly, and she poked her tongue out. Taylor started calling for her from upstairs, and Belly started heading towards the stairs, but wanted the last word. With a mocking shake of her head and a smile, she said, “What are they even teaching you in med school?”

Conrad threw a scrunched-up piece of paper at her back, and she laughed as she disappeared.

“Guess I’m staying here.” He said to Steven who shrugged and took another sip of his beer.

“Sorry, dude. She can be a real hard ass.”

“You’re telling me.”

“I heard that!” Her voice echoed from wherever she was, out of their sight, but apparently not out of earshot.

Conrad and Steven shared a knowing look.

He’d offered to cook dinner for them that night. He felt awkward with the house being filled with Belly’s and Jere’s friends, after two months of it just being the two of them for the most part— an outsider in his own home. The reality of their wedding was really starting to sink in now. It wasn’t just happening soon. It was happening in two days.

They all sat around the table drinking red wine and beer, eating the steak and vegetables he’d grilled. Belly and Jere sat at the head of the table; his arm slung around her chair. Conrad sat at the other, near Belly’s friend Anika from college. She had this easy-goingness about her that Taylor had never possessed, but Conrad could see why Belly had become friends with her.

Anika had brought up the fact that they’d seen the seafood restaurant as they’d driven into town, and Conrad explained that he was friends with the old owner, Ernie. He told her about how they’d told Belly he was a mafioso, and she laughed. In his periphery, he saw Belly look away from them.

He’d been so aware of her. He tried to look at her as little as possible, but not so little that someone could tell he was trying not to look at her. He didn’t know how, but Conrad always knew when she was looking at him too. It was the difference between being in the sun and the shade, not realising the heat but regretting the loss of it.

One of Jere’s friends stood up, “To Belly and J-Fish, a really”—he belched—“amazing couple. Really freaking amazing.”

Everyone lifted their drinks, and Conrad followed suit with a tight-lipped smile.

It was a terrible time to look at the amazing couple, as Jeremiah pulled Belly to her, kissing her on the lips. A swift kick to the stomach would have been more enjoyable. The mask he’d put on to cover his anguish throughout this whole ordeal slipped, just slightly. He looked away, feeling that tell-tale sun lighting him up as he did.

Then Steven said, “One more toast, guys.” Awkwardly, he stood up. “I’ve known Jere my whole life. Belly too, unfortunately.”

Belly threw a napkin at him.

“You guys are good together,” Steven said, looking at her. Then he looked at Jeremiah. “Treat her right, man. She’s a pain in the ass, but she’s the only sister I’ve got.”

Belly got up and hugged him. “You jerk,” she said, wiping her eyes.

She sat back down next to Jere, and he said, “I guess I should say something too. First, thanks for coming, you guys. Josh, Redbird. Taylor and Anika. It means a lot to have you here with us.”

Belly stared at Jeremiah pointedly, but he just added, “You say something too, Belly.”

“Thanks for coming. And, Conrad, thanks for this amazing meal. Really freaking amazing.”

Everyone laughed, and Conrad felt his ears go hot. He lifted his beer in recognition.

The girls stayed home, while the boys left to go to the bar. Conrad volunteered to be the DD, since everyone else was already pretty sloppy before they even left the house.

The bar was packed. Jere’s friends flocked to the girls like moths to flames but had little to no success.

Conrad went up to the bar to get the first round, and Steven followed. They were waiting to get the bartender’s attention when he clapped his hand on Conrad’s shoulder and said, “So how are you doing with this whole thing?”

“What? The wedding?”

“Yeah.”

Steven wasn’t exactly dumb. It shouldn’t have surprised him that he might notice the way Conrad acted, the way he felt.

Conrad turned away from him. “It is what it is.”

“Do you think it’s a mistake?”

He was saved from answering him because the bartender finally looked their way. “Five double shots of tequila and a Newcastle.”

Steven said, “You’re not going to take a shot with us?”

“I’ve got to take care of you numskulls, remember?”

They met with the other guys at the table. They were all quick to down their shots, and Redbird got up and started beating his chest and yelling like Tarzan. The guys busted up laughing and started egging him on to go talk to a couple of girls on the dance floor. Steven got roped into trying to wingman him since it was some girl he used to work with at the country club.

Redbird was rejected, but Steven stayed out there catching up with her since it turned out they were doing the same degree too.

“I’ll get us another round,” Conrad said. Since he was the best man, he figured it was his duty to get them all properly wasted.

He came back with more shots, and since Steven still hadn’t returned to the table, Jere drank his too.

Conrad was nursing his beer when Jere’s friend, Josh, said to Jere, “Dude, you’re finally gonna get to close with Belly.”

Conrad’s head snapped up. Jeremiah had his arm slung around Josh while he sang, “It’s a nice day for a white wedding.”

Jere and Belly had been together for two years—Hell, they were getting married in two days­—and they hadn’t had sex yet? He’d just assumed. Jere had slept with his first girlfriend within a month of dating, a fact Conrad only knew because he had accidentally caught them in Jere’s car in the driveway. He was still horrified to think about it. A scene of a certain Christmas flashed in Conrad’s memory. Passionate kisses, wandering hands… He’d just assumed.

Then Josh said, “Yo, you’re, like, a virgin now too. You haven’t gotten any since Lacie in Cabo.”

Conrad’s stomach dropped out from beneath him. Cabo? Jeremiah had gone to Cabo this past spring break. When he and Belly were a couple.

Jeremiah started to sing, off-key, “Like a virgin, touched for the very first time.” Then he stood up. “I gotta piss.”

Conrad’s eyes tracked him like prey as Jeremiah stumbled off to the bathroom, and Josh said, “Fisher’s a lucky bastard. Lacie is smokin’.”

Tom elbowed him and said, loudly, “Shit, remember how they locked us out of the hotel room?” To Conrad, he said, “This is hilarious, man. Hilarious. They locked us out, and they were so into it, they didn’t even hear us knocking. We had to sleep in the friggin’ hallway that night.”

Laughing, Josh said, “That girl was hella loud, too. Oh, Jere-uhhh-mi-uhhh . . .”

Conrad saw red. Anger like he’d never known welled up in him. His brother had cheated on Belly. The one girl Conrad loved. The one girl that Conrad had given up, had let get away, so she could be happy with his brother. His brother who he’d trusted to take care of her. Now, here was him and his friends talking so casually two days before their wedding about some girl he’d slept with. He would kill him.

Conrad jumped up from the table, shouldering and pushing his way through the crowd until he got to the bathroom.

He banged on the door, grateful to be hitting something.

“Somebody’s in here,” Jeremiah slurred from inside. Then he retched into the toilet.

Conrad waited, jaw clenched. Then he walked out of the bar and to the parking lot.

He drove them home. His jaw felt like it had been welded shut. He couldn’t speak. They were all acting like nuisances in the back. Jere had to be carried out of the bar and to the car, he was so drunk.

When Conrad pulled into the driveway, he parked and just left. Jeremiah could figure out how to get inside himself. Conrad needed to be far, far away from him.

He found himself taking a seat on one of the lifeguard stands, watching the ocean lap at the shore. Conrad tried to match his breathing to it to wade through the rage he felt eating him up.

He thought he might be able to manage it, until he heard her voice and it all returned. “Come down. Don’t fall asleep up there.”

“Come up.” It felt like the first time he’d spoken in days. “Just for a minute.”

She didn’t do it immediately, but then she had climbed up and sat next to them. Her leg grazed his and he felt his body tingle. He moved his leg away slightly. Now was not the time for his emotions, for his feelings. Not with what he had to tell her.

“Did you guys have fun?” She asked.

He didn’t reply. How could he say this to her? How could he break her heart like this?

She looked out at the water. “I love it here at night.”

He just had to do it. Say it. Get it out there. “I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

He still couldn’t look at her, didn’t want to see if her face would crumple like it had that night in the motel. “Jere cheated on you when he was in Cabo.” She didn’t say anything, so he continued, “Tonight at the club, one of his dumbass friends said something.”

He turned to her then. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth slightly dropped. No sign of tears, but he assumed that she was just shocked. “I’m sorry you had to hear it from me. I just thought you had a right to know.”

She blinked. Again. Nodding slowly, “I already knew about it.”

Conrad jerked his head back. “You knew?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re still marrying him?”

Her face turned red. “He made a mistake,” she said softly. “He hates himself for what he did. I forgave him. Everything’s fine now. Everything’s really great.”

Conrad’s mouth curled in disgust. “Are you kidding me? He spent the night in a hotel room with some girl and you’re defending him?”

“Who are you to judge us? It’s none of your business.”

“None of my business? That shithead is my brother, and you’re . . .” He didn’t finish his sentence. What could he even say, his girl? The love of his life? This wasn’t about them. Instead he said, “I never thought you’d be the kind of girl who would put up with that from a guy.”

“I put up with a lot worse from you.”

She may as well have slapped him. Conrad’s eyes flashed. His voice came out low, angry, “I never once cheated on you. I never even looked at another girl when we were together.”

Belly slid away from him and started to climb down. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“I thought I knew you,” he said.

It was like she’d morphed into someone completely unrecognisable in these minutes he’d been talking to her. A couple minutes ago it had been Belly sitting up here with him, now it was some stranger trying to escape him.

“I guess you thought wrong,” She replied, jumping down the rest of the way.

She was already walking away when Conrad jumped down to follow her. He ran up and grabbed her arm to stop her. Belly turned her head away from him, and Conrad could see tears threatening to spill over the threshold. God, it was breaking his heart. Somehow this conversation had gone way worse than he’d planned.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re right. It’s not my business.”

She spun away from him, in the complete opposite direction of the house, just trying to get away from him. She was always getting away from him. Always leaving or disappearing, and he was always letting her. Maybe she and Jere weren’t as happy as he’d thought. Maybe all those moments he’d imagined her wanting to kiss him back were real. It was his only chance to find out. If, for no other reason than the sake of his sanity, he had to say it.

He called out, “I still love you.”

She froze mid-step as if someone had pressed pause on a movie. And then slowly, she turned around to look at him. “Don’t say that.”

The colour had drained out of her face. The ghosts of the past were coming to haunt her, to possess her.

Conrad swallowed. He’d said it now. He had to keep going.

He took a step closer. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get you out of my system, not completely. I have . . . this feeling. That you’ll always be there. Here.” Conrad clawed at his heart and then dropped his hand.

“It’s only because I’m marrying Jeremiah.” Her voice was small. Her eyes were blinking fast and moving wildly, trying to make sense of what he was saying, trying to rationalise something that went against how he had acted all this time. “That’s why you’re saying all this all of a sudden.”

“It’s not all of a sudden,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. He needed her to hear him, her to understand. “It’s always.”

Her head shook the slightest amount. “It doesn’t matter. It’s too late.” Belly turned away from him.

“Wait,” he said. He grabbed her arm again.

“Let go of me,” Her voice was ice, like nothing he’d ever heard from her before.

He flinched, and his hand dropped. “Just tell me one thing. Why get married now?” he said. “Why not just live together?”

Belly opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out.

She started to walk away, but Conrad followed. He wrapped his arms around her, over her shoulders.

“Let go.” Belly struggled, but he held on.

“Wait. Wait.”

“If you don’t let go of me, I’m going to scream.”

“Hear me out, just for a minute. Please. I’m begging you.” He sounded strangled and hoarse.

She let out a breath through her nose, but she didn’t scream, she didn’t keep struggling, so Conrad took that as permission to continue.

Quietly, he said, “Two years ago, I fucked up. But not in the way you think. That night—do you remember that night? The night we were driving back from school and it was raining so hard, we had to stop at that motel. Do you remember?”

She didn’t say anything, but her body shivered slightly in his arms.

“That night, I didn’t sleep at all. I stayed up, thinking about what to do. What was the right thing to do? Because I knew I loved you. But I knew I shouldn’t. I didn’t have the right to love anybody then. After my mom died, I was so pissed off. I had this anger in me all the time. I felt like I was going to erupt any minute.”

He drew his breath in. “I didn’t have it in me to love you the way you deserved. But I knew who did. Jere. He loved you. If I kept you with me, I was going to hurt you somehow. I knew it. I couldn’t have it. So I let you go.”

Her breathing had become more apparent. In. Out. In. Out. He wasn’t sure how long her silence would last.

“But this summer… God, this summer. Being near you again, talking the way we used to talk. You looking at me the way you used to. I see you again, and everything I planned goes to shit. It’s impossible… I love Jere more than anybody. He’s my brother, my family. I hate myself for doing this. But when I see you two together, I hate him too.” His voice broke. “Don’t marry him. Don’t be with him. Be with me.”

His shoulders shook. He was crying. It was all he desperately wanted. Them together. Screw Jeremiah after what he’d done to Belly. Even if she had forgiven him, Conrad couldn’t. He could do it right now, not like two years ago.

The spell finally broke. Her patience had come to an end. Belly broke away from him roughly. “Conrad—”

He grabbed her. “Just tell me. Do you still feel anything for me?”

Belly pushed him away. “No! Don’t you get it? You will never be what Jere is to me. He’s my best friend. He loves me no matter what. He doesn’t take it away whenever he feels like it. Nobody has ever treated me the way he does. Nobody. Least of all you.”

His heart fractured. This is how she remembered him. Someone who takes and breaks and leaves at his own desire. Someone who couldn’t be relied on consistently. Belly had always been his port in the storm, but to her, Conrad was the storm.

“You and I,” She started. She stopped and took a deep breath, trying to get it right. “You and I were never anything.”

Belly had reached into his chest and ripped out his heart and crushed it in her hands. His face went slack. Her gaze dropped to the ground.

When she started walking again, Conrad didn’t chase her, and she didn’t look back.

He stayed there, right where she left him.

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

The Summer I Fucked Up (Ch 30)

A Conrad predominant retelling of The Summer I Turned Pretty TV show and book series.

Did you read the books and want to understand what was going on in that little noggin of his? Read my fic to find out that this man has zero thoughts

Chapter list

CONRAD

Conrad stood in the hallway staring at Belly’s closed door. She wasn’t behind it. Belly had left earlier that morning for the wedding shower that Taylor was throwing her. He hadn’t seen her before she left since he was out on a run, but she’d left a note.

Wedding shower, be home soon! 

He’d rubbed his thumb thoughtfully over the word, ‘home’.

Conrad stared at the door. What a difference one person could make. She’d been gone for a couple hours at most, but the house seemed leeched of warmth—despite what the thermostat tried to tell him.

He hadn’t realised the comfort her presence had been until it was gone. Even when they were avoiding in each other, knowing that she was just a couple rooms away breathed life into the house, made it feel alive. Now it was empty, and Conrad was alone.

When the mocking vacancy became too much, Conrad grabbed his keys and hopped in his car.

Conrad found himself at Ernie’s house before he’d even realised where he was going.

Ernie used to run the seafood restaurant in town. Every kid who ever went to Cousins knew who Ernie was, just like Ernie knew every kid. He never forgot a face no matter how old he got. He used to say to Conrad, Steven, and Jere that he’d buy anything they caught on their overnight fishing trips. He always did—even if the haul was trash. Conrad’s biggest score was when he was 14. Ernie forked out $50. He ended up spending the majority of it at the ring toss trying to win Junior Mint. After that summer, Ernie said Conrad would have to start working at the restaurant if he wanted another pay like that again. So, he worked there about two summers.

Conrad had been trying to visit once a week since he’d been back. He’d gotten a slap upside the head the first time he came over. Ernie was not impressed he’d been gone so long without visiting. Explaining that he’d been on the other side of the country studying medicine was apparently not a good enough reason to miss visits.

As Conrad arrived, he saw Ernie’s deadbeat nephew pull out.

“Did you bring me a cigarette?” Ernie asked me from the couch when he entered.

He always asked it. He used to catch Conrad around town smoking that summer Conrad found out Susannah’s cancer had come back. Other adults had scolded him, but Ernie just asked for one and they’d smoke quietly. He never offered Conrad any, despite the fact he always had a full carton in his chest pocket, he only ever asked Conrad for one of his.

“No,” Conrad took a seat. “I quit.”

“Then get the hell out.”

Then he laughed, and the TV ticked onto one of those old cop shows they watched together and ate peanuts in silence, only talking during ad breaks.

“Did you hear my brother’s getting married next weekend?” Conrad asked.

He snorted. “I’m not in the ground yet, boy. ’Course I heard. Everybody’s heard. She’s a sweet girl. Used to curtsy at me when she was little.”

“That’s because we told her you used to be a prince in Italy but then you became a mafioso. The Godfather of Cousins.” Conrad grinned, thinking about the way Belly’s curtsies would wobble from the pressure.

“Damn straight.”

The show came back on, and they watched in comfortable quiet. Then, at the next break, Ernie said, “So are you gonna cry about it like a punk, or are you gonna do something?”

Conrad almost choked on his peanut. Coughing, he said, “What are you talking about?”

Ernie snorted again. “Don’t be cute with me. You love her, right? She’s the one?”

“Ernie, I think you forgot to take your meds today. Where’s your pillbox?” Conrad made a show of looking for it.

Ernie waved him off with one bony white hand, his attention back on the TV. “Simmer down. Show’s back on.”

Waiting for the next ad break felt like waiting for paint to dry. Conrad never thought he’d be begging for the ads to come back on.

When they finally came on, he tried to ask casually, “Do you really believe in that? That people are meant to be with one person?”

Shelling a nut, he said, “Sure I do. Elizabeth was my one. When she passed, I didn’t figure a reason to look for another one. My girl was gone. Now I’m just biding my time. Get me a beer, will you?”

Conrad got up and got a one from out of the fridge.

“Hey, what was John doing over here?” Conrad asked. “I saw him on my way in.”

“He came to mow my lawn.”

Conrad lifted his eyebrow. “I thought that was my job,”

“You do a shit job of edging.”

“When did you guys even start speaking again?” Conrad held out the beer, and Ernie took it.

Ernie shrugged and popped a peanut into his mouth. “He’s probably just sniffing around here so I leave him my property when I kick it.” He drank his beer and leaned back into his easy chair. “Eh, he’s a good kid. My sister’s only son. He’s family. Family’s family. Never forget that, Conrad.”

“Ernie, two commercial breaks ago, you told me that if I didn’t try and break up my brother’s wedding, I was a punk!”

Picking at his teeth, Ernie said, “If a girl’s the one, all bets are off, family or no family.”

Conrad stayed for a couple more hours, but he felt lighter when he left.

“Conrad?”

“Hm?” He looked up from where he was reading at the kitchen table. Belly was sitting at the counter. She was hugging one leg to her chest with her chin resting on it as the other dangled down from where she sat. She looked at home.

“I have a favour to ask.”

Conrad squinted at her suspiciously. “What do you want, Conklin?

She bit her bottom lip. “Do you think you could play guitar as I walk down the aisle with dad?”

His chest threatened to collapse. Conrad looked down at his book. “I don’t know, Belly. Don’t you want to hire someone instead? I’m not that good.”

“Conrad,” He looked up at the sound of his name in a plea. Her eyes were big. “It would mean so much if it was you.”

It would mean so much if it was you. God, he’d really accept crumbs of affection at this point. How could he turn her down when she went and said something like that?

He exhaled loudly, “Okay, but I’m playing Wonderwall.”

She laughed, and he knew it was worth it to say yes.

As the wedding approached, Conrad found himself spending more time on the water. Was it ironic that he felt more grounded in the surf? If he needed time with his thoughts, he would sit on his board and let the waves pass him. If he needed to drown them out instead, he’d find himself in the barrel where the only thing he could think about is keeping upright.

That morning, he’d taken wave after wave. It was bound to catch up to him. On his last wave, he’d acted too late, and it cost him. It swallowed him whole and spit him out like he was nothing. As the water thrashed him about, he felt a sharp pain in his leg as his board’s fin sliced into him. He practically washed up onto shore after that.

He stopped what bleeding he could with his towel, but he was feeling woozy. He stumbled his way back to the house.

Belly turned the vacuum off when he opened the door and came in.

“What’s wrong?” She dropped the handle and rushed over to him, so Conrad figured he looked as bad as he felt.

“Wipeout,” he said. “I got cut by my fin.”

“Bad?”

“Nah, not too bad.” Conrad limped over to the bathroom, and she ran over. He was sitting on the sill of the tub, and blood was soaking through his towel and running down his leg. Belly balked at the sight.

“It’s already stopped bleeding,” Conrad explained, trying to comfort her, but he felt like he might pass out. “Looks worse than it is.”

“Keep putting pressure on it. I’m gonna get some stuff to clean it.”

He didn’t have the energy to argue with her about it. He could barely keep upright.

She came back and straddled the sill, hydrogen peroxide and gauze and Bactine in hand.

“Let go,” Belly told him.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

“No, you’re not fine.” There was no room in her tone for argument.

He let go of the towel, and Belly pressed down on it. He winced.

“Sorry,” She said.

Belly kept pressure for a couple more minutes, before peeling the bloody towel away from his leg. The cut was a few inches long and skinny. The bleeding had pretty much stopped like he’d said. Belly pour hydrogen peroxide on the wound. His skin stung.

“Ow!” he yelped.

“Don’t be such a baby, it’s barely a scratch.” She was lying. If she wasn’t, her mouth wouldn’t be flattened into that thin line.

It was becoming an effort to sit up straight. Conrad felt his sight blacken at the edges and worried that he might actually pass out.

He leaned closer to Belly and rested his forehead against her shoulder, just barely. He focused on his breaths. In, out. He focused on the way Belly smelt. It was familiar, grounding. He still couldn’t help the sharp intakes of breath he took every time she touched the wound.

Eventually, she patted his knee. She’d wrapped his calf up in gauze. “See? All better.”

He lifted his head up and said, “Thank you.”

“Sure.”

He hadn’t moved his head far from her shoulder. He could still smell her. Their eyes met, and they were just looking at each other, holding each other’s gaze. Conrad noticed that her breath quickened, and again, he saw that gaze fall to his lips. He didn’t know what to do about it.

“Belly?” It was a whisper. She could probably feel his breath on her neck.

“Yeah?” Her voice came out just as quiet, her eyes meeting his again.

I still love you. The thought reverberated through him. He swallowed it.

“Will you help me stand up? I’m going to go upstairs and take a nap.”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” Her voice loud, the spell broken. “I don’t think you’re supposed to sleep.”

He smiled weakly. “That’s with concussions.”

Belly scrambled up and then pulled him up next to me. “Can you walk?”

“I’ll manage,” he said, limping away from her, his hand on the wall.

Maybe he hadn't imagined it the other day at the peach stand, that she might want to kiss him back. Even if she did, she was still marrying Jere. The wedding was only days away. Conrad had to accept it. He had to keep his distance, just these last couple days.

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

The Summer I Fucked Up (Ch 29)

A Conrad predominant retelling of The Summer I Turned Pretty TV show and book series.

Did you read the books and want to understand what was going on in that little noggin of his? Read my fic to find out that this man has zero thoughts

Chapter list

CONRAD

“Where have you been?”

He’d barely set foot in the door, and Belly was already asking him questions.

He didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t look at her either. He didn’t want her to know that he’d been out talking to Laurel on her behalf, or that he decided that he needed to wipe his hands of this situation. Instead, he said, words clipped, “Just running errands.”

Her brow wrinkled at his response, and she waited a beat for him to say something further. He didn’t.

“Wanna keep me company while I go to the florist in Dyerstown? I have to pick out flowers for the wedding.”

“Isn’t Jere coming today? Can’t you go with him?” He couldn’t keep the annoyance from his voice.

This. This is exactly the sort of stuff he’d just resolved to stay out of, and here she was inviting him out again.

He registered the look of surprise and a little hurt on her face, and he turned to the sink, reaching for a glass just so he didn’t have to look at it.

“He’s not going to be here until tonight,” She replied. Her voice turned playful when she added, “Anyway, you’re the one who’s the flower-arranging expert, not Jere, remember?”

He thought about the other day at Michael’s where she’d teased him about the fake flower arrangements he’d suggested.

Conrad stood at the sink with his back to her. He turned on the water, filling a glass. “I don’t want to piss him off.”

That was one reason he didn’t want to go, but Conrad was also scared. All this time he’d been getting to spend with Belly made his heart skip and bend and break, and Conrad was scared that he’d want to do something about it. Something that would ruin everything, something that would really piss Jere off.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen this morning?” She spoke fast and with concern. She stood closer to him, and it was like every fibre of his being strained towards her, like the hair on the back of his neck stood up just to get even a fraction closer to her.

He could feel her hand raise, to put it on his shoulder. Conrad would surely break if she did something like that, so he turned around and her hand fell back to her side. She was still close.

“Nothing happened,” he said, grabbing his keys from the counter. “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

They drove there in silence with the exception of the music that Belly put on, and he was just as quiet at the florist.

Conrad floated around the store as Belly stood near the counter reviewing the book of flower arrangements. Despite his best efforts, the pleasant smells from the various flowers calmed him somewhat. It made Conrad think of Susannah and his heart ached with a dullness he never knew could exist before she’d passed away.

He allowed himself one moment to look at Belly while she wasn’t paying attention. She tucked her long hair behind her ear. Susannah had always been right about her. How beautiful she was—is. But it had always been more than that. It was her energy that had made Belly beautiful like it had radiated from her soul and made her physically glow.

She looked up at him then and smiled.

He blinked.

She beckoned him over with a nod of her head. “What do you think?”

She pointed at the arrangement of peonies in the book, and the dull ache returned. “Those were mum’s favourite.”

She had a small look of satisfaction on her face, like she’d known he’d say that. “I remember.”

She ordered five arrangements.

“What about bouquets?” the florist asked her.

“Can those be peonies too?” Belly asked.

“Sure, we can do that. I’ll put together something nice for you.” To Conrad, she said, “Are you and your groomsmen doing boutonnieres?”

He turned red. “I’m not the groom,” he said.

He hadn’t allowed himself to imagine it, or even think it, not even during all the other wedding errands he’d helped with. But now the florist planted the idea in his mind and it spread like a weed he couldn’t rip out. The groom to Belly’s bride. His heart paused.

“He’s the brother of the groom,” Belly said, handing her Mr. Fisher’s credit card.

Conrad went and hopped in the car while Belly finalised the last bits and pieces with the florist. He put his hands on the wheel and gripped tight and rested his against the back of his seat.

When they were driving home, they passed this fruit stand on the side of the road. Belly didn’t say anything, but Conrad could see her in his periphery watching as the fruit stand appeared and passed them.

“Want to go back?”

“Nah, that’s okay, we already passed it,” She tried to seem like it didn’t matter to her, but there was this tinge of disappointment in her voice.

He made a U-turn on the one-way street.

He leaned against the car as she went up to the stand, watching as she dropped some coins in the bowl. She came back with a peach.

“Aren’t you going to have one?” She asked him, wiping off the peach on her shirt.

He shook his head. “Nah, I’m allergic to peaches.”

“Since when?” She demanded. Belly almost looked like she’d been betrayed, lied to—offended that she didn’t know everything about him. She squinted her eyes at him. “I’ve definitely seen you eat a peach before. Or peach pie, at least.”

He shrugged. “Since always. I’ve eaten them before, but they make the inside of my mouth itch.”

She inhaled the scent of the peach, and her eyes fluttered shut. “Your loss.”

She moaned at the first bite, like she’d been transported to another dimension. “This is a perfect peach.” Her voice coming out in a sigh. “I almost don’t want to have another one, because there’s no way it can be as good.”

Conrad smiled inside. “Let’s test it out,” Conrad said, and he went and bought her another peach.

She ate it in four bites.

“Was it as good?” he asked.

“Yeah. It was.”

She still had some peach juice on her chin and without thinking, Conrad reached out and wiped it away with his shirt. His hand lingered there, and time slowed. It was just him and Belly looking into each other’s eyes. It was so intimate. They were so close. He swallowed. If he wanted to kiss her, he’d only have to lean forward a couple of inches. He wanted to. Even if the peach juice made his mouth itch. When her eyes quickly flickered to his lips and back to his eyes, he shook his head and acted like the sun was too bright behind her.

Time resumed at its normal pace.

Belly was the first to step away. “I’m gonna buy some more, for Jere.”

He was imagining things, seeing what he wanted to see. He wanted to kiss Belly, so he saw her wanting to kiss him back. But she was with Jere, and they were happy.

“Good idea,” he said, backing away, suddenly not trusting his legs to keep him standing. “I’ll go wait for you in the car.”

Neither of them spoke on the way back. Conrad wasn’t even sure he could if he wanted to. Every time he thought about saying something to fill the silence, his mouth remained firmly shut. Belly didn’t say anything either-which was possibly more concerning-and just looked out the window she’d wound down.

Even with the sound of the thrashing wind, the silence between them was glaringly loud.

Jere’s car was in the driveway when they got back, and Conrad felt that pit in his stomach widen. He went straight to his room. When the door closed, Conrad started breathing again.

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

The Summer I Fucked Up (Ch 28)

A Conrad predominant retelling of The Summer I Turned Pretty TV show and book series.

Did you read the books and want to understand what was going on in that little noggin of his? Read my fic to find out that this man has zero thoughts

Chapter list

CONRAD

He ended up going back to Cousins the day after he left. He’d figured that he’d had just as much right to be there as Belly and Jere did. He wasn’t going to let them force him out— even though they had actually done nothing of the sort.

He and his dad had talked in the kitchen at midnight when he first got to Boston. Adam had asked Conrad for his opinion on the whole thing and, even with his feelings about Belly aside, Conrad agreed that it was stupid that they were getting married so young. He’d told his dad that technically he could cut Jere off, but he still thought that Jere would go through with it anyways, especially since he still had money in the trust after Susannah’s death. Adam had ended the conversation by saying he didn’t want to lose Jere like he’d lost Conrad. Adam had left the room before Conrad could say that he hadn’t lost him.

One other thing that Conrad had been surprised to find out was the reason that Belly was at the summer house in the first place. He knew that Belly and Laurel had fought. He didn’t know what she’d run off to Cousins because of it. He also didn’t know that now they weren’t speaking.

Conrad was surprised he knew none of this. With the exception of seeming stressed from the wedding, Belly had seemed mostly chipper. She hadn’t breathed a word of it to him. In the past Conrad would have been able to tell without her saying anything. Her face used to just give everything away. He thought it still did. Maybe she was getting better at hiding her emotions. Or maybe he just didn’t know her like he used to.

When he got back, he fired up the grill and cooked lunch for him and Belly.

They sat out on the deck.

“Did Jere tell you what he wants you and Steven to wear for the wedding?”

Conrad shook his head, looking confused. “I thought guys just wore suits for weddings.”

“Well, yeah, but you guys are his best men, so you’re all dressing alike. Khaki shorts and white-linen button-down shirts. He didn’t tell you?”

“This is the first I’m hearing about linen shirts. Or being a best man.”

Belly rolled her eyes and raked a hand through her hair. “Jeremiah needs to get on the ball. Of course you’re his best man. You and Steven both are.”

“How can there be two best men? ‘Best’ implies only one.” Biting into his corn on the cob, he said, “Let Steven be it, I don’t care.”

“No! You’re Jeremiah’s brother. You have to be his best man.”

Conrad disagreed. In fact, he thought he might be the last person Jere would want as his best man while he married Belly and that was just fine by him. It was like being offered frontside tickets to getting your heart ripped out.

Belly clearly wasn’t done with her pitch; however, her phone rang, interrupting whatever else she was about to say.

She didn’t seem to know the other person on the line, or it was their first time speaking. Belly seemed confused but she replied with answers to what he could only assume were wedding questions.

She looked at him with a puzzled look which he only returned.

She mouthed, Denise Coletti.

His dad’s assistant? He gestured for her to give him the phone, but she waved him off.

They continued to talk and right as it seemed like the conversation was coming to an end, Conrad leaned over and called out, “Hi, Denise!”

Belly turned around after a second, her hand over the phone. “Denise says hello.”

Then they hung up.

“What’s going on?” Conrad asked. “Why is Denise calling you?”

Belly didn’t seem to know what to do with the phone in her hand. She fiddled with it a little before choosing to put it down. “Um, apparently, your dad’s secretary is our wedding planner now. And we’re inviting forty people instead of twenty.”

He looked down at his plate. Blandly, he said, “That’s good news.”

“How is that good news?”

“It means my dad is okay with you guys getting married. And he’s paying for it.” Conrad started to cut his chicken. He couldn’t help but think he had something to do with.

“Huh. Wow.” She stood up. “I’d better call Jere. Wait, it’s the middle of the day. He’s still at work.”

She sat back down. She picked up her fork, but it just sort of hovered over her plate.

Conrad could see the wheels turning in her head. He figured she’d be more excited since their wedding budget had seemed pretty much non-existent and she’d been so stressed out. Her face was mostly blank but there was just the hint of something else. If Conrad had to label the emotion on her face, he’d call it disappointed, maybe overwhelmed.

She looked at her plate.

“Eat,” Conrad said.  

And she did. But not enough.

It was later that week when Conrad finally noticed the effects of Laurel and Belly’s separation. He’d overheard her talking to Taylor explaining that she didn’t really want a wedding shower if everyone was going to be there but her mum. At the end of the call, Belly’s bedroom door clicked shut and Conrad could hear her start to cry.

If he had to describe Belly, he’d describe her as cheerful, upbeat, the kind of person who’d find the bright side in almost anything. Hearing her so upset felt like Conrad’s foundation had been rocked.

He’d lain in bed that night, deciding to stay out of it, but her sobs permeated his dreams and sent shivers down his spine.

He left to go see Laurel before the sun was up.

Sitting in front of her, he laid it all out there. He told Laurel that she should go to the wedding, even if neither of them thought it was a good idea. If he knew one thing it was that Belly needed her mum right now. Laurel didn’t seem to think so until he mentioned the shower, how Belly was crying and barely eating. She’d regret it, he’d said, if she didn’t go.

Then she fixed him with this particularly piercing look that only Laurel was capable of and asked, “Are we speaking honestly with each other here?”

“Don’t we always?”

Laurel nodded, taking a sip of coffee. “Yes, that we do. So tell me. What’s your interest in all of this?”

He’d expected her to ask. He didn’t know what he’d say when she did so he went with the truth. He told it to the coffee in his cup since her gaze was too all knowing to look at directly. “I want her to be happy.”

“Ah,” she said. “Just her?”

“Jeremiah, too.”

That was also technically true, but Conrad wondered why it felt like a lie.

“And that’s it?” He looked up at her then, and her gaze was still steady on him.

All he could do was look back.

He thought about that conversation the whole way home. Her knowing look. Her choice of words. Maybe Conrad hadn’t been as good at hiding his emotions as he’d thought. Or maybe Laurel had always been that good at reading him and he’d just forgotten.

Annoyance seeped in. Conrad was wittingly and unwittingly planning their wedding. He just happened to be there at every stage. It was ridiculous. He didn’t even agree with them. He didn’t even want the wedding to happen. He needed to stop.

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

The Summer I Fucked Up (Ch 27)

A Conrad predominant retelling of The Summer I Turned Pretty TV show and book series.

Did you read the books and want to understand what was going on in that little noggin of his? Read my fic to find out that this man has zero thoughts

Chapter list

CONRAD

When he’d come back from a run, soaked in sweat, she was in the kitchen table, papers around her.

“Good run?” She asked.

“Yeah.” He moved closer, standing closer to her than he probably needed to, and picked up one of the papers from table. “You’re gonna mail out wedding invitations? Old school. I feel like a lot of people do the electronic invites now.”

Belly picked up one of her own to look at. “Yeah, I’ve just got to get stamps. I feel like we’re making enough sacrifices in other areas of the wedding and there’s so few people invited that physical invitations make it feel more real.” She smiled down at it. “Besides, there’s something so romantic in having something tangible. It just shows the love and care that goes into. it, don’t you think?”

She was still smiling when she looked up at him. It was radiant. He must have nodded because she had a pleased look on her face like she did whenever they agreed on something. Conrad had to take a step away to force himself not to stare at her.

He swallowed and walked over to pour himself a glass of water.

“I need to go into town and get a new drill at the hardware store. The post office is on the way. I can get your stamps.” He said after taking a sip.

Her eyes widened. “Thanks but I want to go and see what kind of love stamps they have.”

He downed his water.

“Do you know what a love stamp is?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “It’s a stamp that says ‘love’ on it. People use them for weddings. I only know because Taylor told me I had to get them.”

Conrad half smiled and said, “We can take my car if you want. Save you a trip.”

Conrad kicked himself for finding ways to justifiably hang out with Belly. Distance. That’s the sole condition he’d placed on himself for staying at the house, except how bad could a couple of stolen moments be.

“Sure,” she said.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower. Give me ten minutes,” he said, and ran up the stairs.

She offered for them to take her car, but he said it was okay.

When she hopped into the passenger seat, she ran her hand over the door, a thoughtful look on her face.

“I can’t remember the last time I was in your car,” she said, reaching for the radio.

Without missing a beat, he said, “Your prom.”

It was another one of those moments Conrad wished he could have taken back. Conrad remembered how she’d crumpled the closer they’d gotten to his car under the assumption he wanted to break up. To this day Conrad didn’t know if that’s even what he’d wanted to do, but still he struggled to forgive himself for ruining that night for her.

An awkward silence settled between them. Conrad could only assume she was thinking about it as well until she turned to him and said brightly, “Gosh, that was, like, a million years ago, huh?”

This time he didn’t reply.

He dropped her off in front of the post office and told her he’d be back in a few minutes. Conrad pulled up just as she was putting her invitations in the mail. This was really happening. Belly was really getting married.

Climbing into the car, I asked, “Did you get your new drill?”

“Yep,” he said. “Did you find your love stamps?”

“Yep,” I said. “Hey, what does it mean to hand cancel mail?”

When he explained, she looked shocked until he reminded her that he used to collect stamps. Recognition sparked in her eyes and she brought up the time Jeremiah had stolen a rare stamp from his collection and used it to send a postcard. Conrad started to get defensive about it but then Belly was laughing, and he couldn’t help but laugh too. It was like old times.

Shaking his head, he said, “I was such a little geek.”

“No, you weren’t!”

Conrad threw her a look. “Stamp collecting. Chemistry set. Encyclopedia obsession.”

“Yeah, but you made all of that seem cool.” Her tone was completely sincere. She fully believed that.

“You were gullible,” he said. And then, “When you were really little, you hated carrots. You wouldn’t eat them. But then I told you that if you ate carrots, you’d get X-ray vision. And you believed me. You used to believe everything I said.”

She didn’t say anything immediately, just turned to look out the window and Conrad couldn’t see the look on her face.

Abruptly, she said, “Are you going to stay in California after you graduate?”

“It depends on med school,” he said. Conrad had no idea where he would go once the school excuse ran out. Maybe his internship or residency would take him somewhere else entirely.

She hesitated again. “Are you . . . do you have a girlfriend?”

He had to force his eyes to stay focused on the road, looking at her might give too much away. The surprise that she’d asked. His want to see her reaction to his response. The real reason he didn’t.

“No,” he said.

“I don’t believe you,” she said, tilting her head to one side. Teasingly, she said, “If there wasn’t a girl, why would you stay away for so long? There has to be a girl.”

Oh man was there.

Distance. Distance. Distance.

The car ride, the questioning, it reminded Conrad that he should be making himself a lot scarcer than he had been. He’d done it successfully until he had found a stressed-out Belly on the floor of the loungeroom with her hands in her hair like she was moments away from tearing it out.

Jere was supposed to come help her get some wedding stuff but didn’t leave early like she’d suggested so he’d gotten stuck in traffic. Before he could stop himself, Conrad found himself volunteering to go with her.

This time they took her car because it was bigger. She drove. Conrad had only ridden with her a couple of times, back when she was first learning. Now, she was much more confident and assured. She drove fast but was still in control. Conrad liked it. It was kind of exhilarating seeing her in her element, seeing a new side of her. His eyes kept gravitating in her direction to look at her. So much so, he had to force himself to cool it.

“You’re not a bad driver,” he said.

She grinned. “Jeremiah taught me well.”

That’s right. He taught her how to drive that last summer, probably after too. “So what else about you has changed?”

“Hey, I was never not a good driver.”

Conrad snorted, then looked out the window. “I think Steve would disagree.”

“He’ll never let me live down what I did to his precious baby.” She shifted gears as they came to a stoplight. “So what else?”

“You wear heels now. At the garden ceremony, you had on high heels.”

There was a minute hesitation before she said, “Yeah, sometimes. I still trip in them, though.” Ruefully she added, “I’m like a real lady now.”

Conrad reached out to touch her hand, but at the last second he pointed instead. “You still bite your nails.”

It was comforting to see remnants of the Belly he’d known mixed in with this new Belly he was still coming to know.

She curled her fingers around the steering wheel. With a little smile, she said, “You don’t miss a thing.”

They got to Michael’s and Conrad helped her get her vases and candles.

Jere was at the house by the time they got back. He was lounged on the couch watching TV but sat up when they came in.

“Where have you guys been?” he asked. He said it casually, but his eyes flickered to Conrad as he spoke.

It felt like an accusation. Conrad hadn’t done anything wrong.

Belly explained, even sounding a little pissed at him for missing it, but she didn’t pull away when she kissed him.

Conrad looked away and rubbed his neck. “I’m gonna go unload the car.”

“Wait, I’ll help.” Jeremiah released Belly and slapped his hand on Conrad’s back. “Con, thanks for pinch-hitting for me today.”

Pinch-hitting? Conrad had to bite his tongue. “No problem.”

“It’s after eight,” Belly said. “I’m starving. Let’s all go to Jimmy’s for dinner.”

Conrad shook my head. “Nah, I’m not hungry. You guys go.”

“But you didn’t have any dinner,” Belly said, frowning. “Just come with us.”

“No, thanks.”

She started to protest again, but Jere said, “Bells, he doesn’t want to. Let’s just go.”

“Are you sure?” she asked Conrad.

“I’m good.” He hadn’t expected for it to come out so harsh, so he tried to ignore the little bit of hurt that flashed over Belly’s face when he said it.

After they left, so did he. To Boston. He wasn’t sure if he was planning to come back.

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

The Summer I Fucked Up (Ch 26)

A Conrad predominant retelling of The Summer I Turned Pretty TV show and book series.

Did you read the books and want to understand what was going on in that little noggin of his? Read my fic to find out that this man has zero thoughts

Chapter list

CONRAD

Conrad had stayed a week at the house with Adam and Jere. It was just quiet. Most of the time, Jere and his dad were at work, so Conrad just drifted from room to room with no real purpose. It was worse when they were here too. Conrad barely knew how to act around Jere now. For the most part, he’d been able to separate everything in his mind. Jere was his brother. Belly was his… whatever Belly was. Jere and Belly as a couple? That reality was thrown in to the deep, dark recesses of his mind that he would never look at unless he was forced to.

Now that’s all that he saw when he looked at Jere. He saw them at that table, in that restaurant, announcing their engagement. Worse than that, he saw Belly’s hand on the table with a small diamond that sparkled just to taunt him. He also saw himself of the side of the road retching.

One day, when it all got too much, he made the trip out to Cousins.

It was like being able to breath again.

Californian beaches were nice, but in his mind, they had nothing on Cousins. The house was still the same, with the exception of a coat of dust and stale air. Walking around, he could see where age and time had started to leave its imprint. Broken light bulbs, chipping paint, little things, big things.

He hadn’t bought a ticket to go back to California. He wouldn’t, not yet. The lab didn’t need him back for a while. He wasn’t doing a summer semester. For the first time in a while, Conrad had no plans.

Conrad felt a renewed sense of purpose. He would stay here, let Cousins bring him back to earth, and to repay it, he would fix up the house.

He went back to Boston, and got his things, and he came right back, where he belonged.

He cooked. He cleaned. He surfed. It was as glorious as Conrad had hoped. It, also, lasted a week.

When that week was over, he came home from grocery shopping and found Jere and Belly sitting on the front porch, Belly in his lap. Conrad’s stomach tightened. She stood up and waved at him.

They were up doing wedding stuff, still going ahead even though Laurel wasn’t on board yet. It was odd to him that Belly didn’t want to wait until they had her approval, but it still seemed in character for Jere. He was an all-steam-ahead kind of guy.

He cooked them dinner. He’d become so used to it since he’d been living on his own. Chicken in all shapes and form, but mostly grilled.

After giving him compliments about his cooking that made his ears turn pink, Jere announced “Belly’s gonna stay here until the wedding. Is that cool with you, Con?”

Conrad’s eyes widened.

Belly would be staying here. Until the wedding. Conrad should have known that this is where she would want to have it. Why else would they be here? He knew it was her favourite spot in the world, or at least it had been. He didn’t know what had changed in the time they’d been separated.  

“I won’t be in your way,” She assured him since he had forgotten to respond. “I’ll just be doing wedding stuff.”

Which was worse, that she was here doing wedding stuff or that she wouldn’t be in his way?

“It’s fine. I don’t care,” he said.

Belly looked down at her plate, moving the remaining food around with her fork but not taking another bite. “Thanks.”

After dinner, they invited him to go get ice cream with them but said he’d stay back and clean up. He couldn’t think of anything worse than walking with Jere and Belly as they ate ice cream and walked hand in hand. The thought made him want to throw up again.

“The cook shouldn’t have to clean up.” She tried to grab the tea towel out of his hand, but Conrad was too quick, holding it above her head. She made one failed jump to grab at it.

“I don’t mind, Belly.”

She frowned at him. She might have said more but Jere was calling her over, and they were out.

He was sitting in front of the TV when they came back. It’d be a stretch to say he was watching it. It was more like he had been zoning out in its direction. When they sat on the couch, it repelled him out of his seat. Casually.

“I’m gonna hit the sack,” he said, stretching his arms over his head.

“It’s, like, ten o’clock. Watch a movie with us,” Jeremiah said.

“Nah, I’m gonna get up early tomorrow and surf. Wanna join me?”

Jeremiah glanced at Belly before saying, “Yeah, sounds good.”

Belly pouted a little bit. “I thought we were gonna work on the guest list in the morning.”

“I’ll come back before you’re even awake. Don’t worry.” To Conrad, he said, “Knock on my door when you’re up.”

Conrad hesitated. “I don’t want to wake up Belly.”

His eyes drifted over to her. She was turning pink, not looking at him.  “I don’t mind.”

Conrad closed his bedroom door behind him and pulled out his phone, sending his friend, Danny, a message.

Would I be able to stay over at yours a couple nights?

The phone pinged back quickly. Sure, when do you want to come over?

Conrad typed out on his phone that he’d come by tomorrow after he went surfing with Jere, but his finger hesitated over the send button.

If he didn’t stay, they’d ask why. He’d come all this way. They knew he was planning to spend the rest of the summer here, but the second they say Belly was staying over he was going to run packing? He may as well just announce he was still in love with her.

He could do it, right? Just keep his distance. It was dangerous. He’d barely kept it together at Christmas. The safe option would be to go to Danny’s. Except he still couldn’t press send.

When Jere opened the door to join him for a surf that morning, Conrad noticed that Belly wasn’t in his bed. Jere started to bound down the stairs, but Conrad threw a look over his shoulder. The door to Belly’s bedroom was shut. It had been open when he’d gone to bed. Conrad didn’t smile. But he wanted to.

Out on the waves with Jere felt natural, like it was any other summer. Except when Conrad tried to suggest that maybe, just maybe, it’s not a good idea to get married since Laurel and Adam were against it, Jere blew up at him.

“Stay out of it, Conrad,” he spat.

“All right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . I’m sorry.”

“I never asked for your opinion. This is between me and Belly.”

Conrad thought about that even as Jere rode to shore and left him out there on his own. Smug piece of shit. He was marrying Conrad’s girl, and he couldn’t do anything but let it happen.

It was the first time that Conrad had felt like Jeremiah had intentionally rubbed salt in the wound.

Conrad had promised his mum on her deathbed that he’d take care of Jeremiah. Conrad moved across the country to keep that promise. He was going to let Jere marry the girl he loved to keep that promise. Conrad just wished it didn’t sting so much.

In that first week, Belly and Conrad were like repelling magnets. They were never in the same place at the same time. If Conrad was in the kitchen, Belly was in her room. If Belly was in the lounge room, Conrad was at the beach or a friend’s or working on the house. Except sometimes, when it was late and Conrad was still awake looking up at his ceiling, he’d hear a splash and smile. He'd look out his window, and Belly would be doing laps at midnight, just like she used to.

One morning, Conrad was coming home, and Belly was out on the deck.

“Hey. Where are you coming from?” She asked, taking a bite of a strawberry Pop-Tart.

“The gym,” Conrad said, walking past her. Then he stopped short. “Is that what you’re eating for breakfast?”

“Yeah, but it’s my last one. Sorry.”

Conrad would hardly call that breakfast. He cringed at the idea of having that kind of sugar this early in the morning. Unless it was the good muffins. Those were the only exception.

“I left cereal out on the counter. There’s fruit in the fruit bowl too.”

She shrugged. “I thought it was yours. I didn’t want to eat your stuff without asking.”

Impatiently, he said, “Then why didn’t you ask?”

She turned her head like a dog, not understanding his tone. “How could I ask when I’ve barely even seen you?”

They scowled at each other for about three seconds before a smile started tugging at the corners of his mouth. Giving each other a tough time was almost second nature by now. It was a comfort to fall back into again.

“Fair enough,” he said, forcing away the smile. What was he thinking? Falling into old habits is exactly the kind of thing he should avoid. He started to slide the glass door open, and then he turned and said, “Whatever I buy, you can eat.”

“Same here,” she replied.

A ghost of a smile flickered onto his face again. Goddamn it, Belly. “You can keep your Pop-Tarts and your Funyuns and your Kraft mac and cheese all to yourself.”

“Hey, I eat other stuff besides just junk,” she protested.

“Sure you do,” he said, and he went inside.

The next night he did find out she ate other stuff. He’d stayed out all day as a punishment for letting his mask falter. If you can really call surfing and hanging out with friends as a punishment. He didn’t come home until he knew she’d gone to bed.

The kitchen was clean except one plate on the counter. Spaghetti with salad. Conrad sat and ate it at the counter.

He let himself smile when he ate it, not because it was good, but because she made it for him.

Next Chapter

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

The Summer I Fucked Up (Ch 25)

A Conrad predominant retelling of The Summer I Turned Pretty TV show and book series.

Did you read the books and want to understand what was going on in that little noggin of his? Read my fic to find out that this man has zero thoughts

Chapter list

CONRAD

When Conrad got the invite to Laurel’s 50th, he’d responded immediately. Of course, he would go. When he talked with Laurel and she asked if he was coming, he reassured her he would be there. However, the problem was that there was too much time in between when Conrad accepted the invite and when it was actually time to go. He had too much time to think.

He was resolved to go, it was the right thing to do, but when he found himself in front of the airport- bag and ticket in hand- he couldn’t step inside. Belly would be there. Conrad would have to see her.

It wasn’t like Christmas where neither of them had been expecting to see each other, and then they just got to enjoy each other’s silent company in private. No, it wouldn’t be like that at all. Conrad had had too much time to psych himself out. It was hard enough to be around her when he couldn’t have her, but at the party, Jere would be there. Conrad would have to seal up his true emotions and keep them from playing out on his face. He would be forced to watch them be together and in love and he would start to hate Jere again. He’d moved to California just to avoid it.

Seeing Belly at Christmas really cemented what Agnes had said to him. He still loved Belly. Not just a little bit. A lot, with his entirety.  Except there was nothing for it anymore. He would have to be content with loving Belly from afar and in secret. He hadn’t been ready to give Belly all of him when she’d needed it, and now he was, she was happy and in love with someone else—his brother, of all people. But she deserved it, Jeremiah could give her so much more than what Conrad offered. Now and then.

So, his feet would not move. They were frozen.

“Come on, Conrad. Just one foot in front of the other, you’ve been doing it since you were one.” He begged under his breath.

Then his body listened. One foot in front of the other and Conrad was back in the cab, heading back to his house.

He hated that he wouldn’t be there for Laurel, especially since he’d come to rely on her. He’d call her later. He’d say something came up at the lab he was working at part-time. It wouldn’t make up for it, but he’d send her flowers. Red zinnias. Susannah had mentioned once that those were Laurel’s favourite. He hoped it would be enough for her to forgive him.

He wouldn’t disappoint her next time.

“The women’s shelter is dedicating a garden to your mum.” Adam told him. It was unusual for his father to call him, so when he did Conrad picked up. “They’re unveiling it in June, will you come? Laurel and the kids are also coming.”

Conrad looked at his calendar. It was in two months. After missing Laurel’s birthday last month, he was more inclined to give in. “I think I should be done with my exams by then, but I won’t be sure until closer to the date.”

His father hesitated on the other end of the line. “It’d be nice to see you. We haven’t seen you since Christmas.”

Conrad flinched slightly at the memory. Not the memory of Christmas with his family. No, the other Christmas memories.

When Conrad didn’t say anything immediately, Adam cleared his throat on the other end, “Anyways, I’ll send you all the details. It might give you a chance to see Susannah’s headstone too now that it’s up. Jere was going to come up during spring break and go check it out with me, but he’s going to Cabo with his friends.”

Conrad wondered what Belly would be doing if Jere was away with his friends. Cabo didn’t really seem like her thing.

“I’ll let you know when I know, Dad.”

And that was the end of the call.

Conrad had tried to make it on time. Sometimes, he really felt like the world was against him. He sped down all the way to Cousins hoping the plane delay wouldn’t make him a liar to Laurel again. It had been a couple weeks since they spoke, and she’d asked if he was going to be there. He said he would, but he’d said he would be at her 50th too.

He arrived late, as he expected, cursing under his breath but choose to stay at the back of the room rather than take the seat saved for him at the front. No one noticed him.

He spotted her there. She didn’t see him either.

It was surreal seeing Belly again. Christmas had seemed like this out of world, out of time, kind of experience where everything had been the same as it had always been and different in every way all at the same time. Looking at her now from the back of the crowded room in a lavender dress that his mother would’ve gushed over, she looked grown up. At Christmas he hadn’t noticed, but now he could see it. The way she dressed, the way she’d done her hair, the way she sat. She’d grown up and he had missed it. He might not even know her anymore, grown up Belly.

But then he noticed the little Band-Aid on her ankle, and he recognised her again. She was Belly.

Conrad listened as the presenter spoke about his mum, and then Jere went up there and thanked them for this memorial. He knew that his mother would have loved it all—would have loved it more if he had been up there too.

When Jere finished up, he went and took a seat next to Belly and held her hand. The muscles in his stomach clenched and he moved to hide behind a woman.

Conrad closed his eyes. It was a mistake coming here. He knew he’d react like this. He knew he had no right to. But his vision spotted.

They spotted him eventually, after the speeches. Well, she spotted him first. Her eyes left Jere’s and met his. Belly stopped and stared; her mouth slightly agape. Conrad felt like it was only them in that moment, and he lifted a hand in a wave. She returned the gesture.

She shook out of it when Jere cleared his throat next to her.

Then they were all on him like flies. His father. Laurel. Steven. Jere was slow, but he came over too. They all embraced and greeted him.

Belly was last.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He opened his arms wide.

It was a dare; they both knew it. With a little hesitation, she stepped into his arms and crushed her in his arms, lifting her off the ground. God, it was nice. She squealed, tugging at the hem of her skirt, and everyone laughed. Everyone except Jere who stared at him with an uncharacteristic straight face. When he set her back down, Belly moved closer to Jere, and Conrad ignored the way his heart panged.

“Conrad’s glad to have his little sister around again,” His father said, jovially.

Conrad flinched inwardly. His dad must not have known they dated too.

“How have you been, little sis?” Conrad asked, part mocking, part mischievous.

“Great,” She said, looking at Jeremiah. “We’re really great.”

Jere looked at his phone and said. “I’m starving.”

Laurel cut in then. “Let’s get some pictures by the garden before we go.”

So, they did, and it felt like all the old summers where the mums had taken their photos together when they first got to Cousins for the summer.

At lunch, they’d only just sat at the table and Belly had already buttered and stuffed a whole bread roll into her mouth, and Conrad smiled inwardly. Grown up Belly was turning out to be very similar to the regular Belly he knew.

He watched Steven mouth Pig to her.

She sneered. “I didn’t eat breakfast.”

Adam advised her that he’d ordered a bunch of appetizers, and they talked about how she could start calling him Adam now.

Steven turned to him and asked, “So why don’t you ever leave California?”

The reason was sitting just a couple seats down the table.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, for, like, the first time since you left, practically.” Steven nudged him and lowered his voice. “You got a girl out there?”

“No,” Conrad said. He didn’t let his eyes drift over to Belly, who was also listening to the conversation. “No girl.”

The champagne arrived then, and they all toasted Susannah and being able to share the day together.

He was laughing with Steven about the fact he was currently in trouble with Shayla because he’d used all her expensive shampoo as body wash when Jere announced he had something to say. All eyes turned to Jeremiah, and out of the corner of his eye, Conrad could see Belly shifting in her seat.

“I’ll just go ahead and warn you—it’s really good news.” Jeremiah flashed a smile at everyone. “I asked Belly to marry me, and she said yes. She said yes! We’re getting married this August!”

It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. He knew his face was blank. He’d received enough bad news in the past to make sure that his emotions never displayed on his face until he was ready. Even when he was surprised. So surprised.

Belly. Marrying his brother. The only girl who had ever really understood him. The only girl he’d loved deeply. That girl-his girl-was marrying his brother.

Blink, Conrad. Breathe, Conrad. If he didn’t think it, he wasn’t sure he would do it.

That’s when the fighting started. Laurel asking if she was pregnant. Belly swearing she wasn’t, they just wanted to get married. Laurel saying they were too young. Jeremiah saying they love each other and want to be together. Laurel accusing Adam of knowing, but him just thinking they were joking. Jere saying they weren’t. Laurel telling them they aren’t getting married while they’re both in school. Maybe after they graduate according to his father.

This was all happening around Conrad. Blinking and breathing. That was all he could focus on right now. A few times in his life, Conrad had felt like the rug had been pulled out from under his feet. He was glad that he had been sitting. His legs didn’t feel like they could hold his weight right now. His heart felt like it wasn’t beating but it felt like it was beating too fast too.

Then they were all standing up, leaving, and Conrad followed suit.

Steven whispered, “Holy shit, man. This is crazy. Did you know about this?”

“No.” It was all he could manage.

Outside, he hugged Laurel goodbye on instinct and hopped in his car like he was in a trance.

He drove 10 minutes before Conrad had to stop and throw up.

Next Chapter

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

The Summer I Fucked Up (Ch 24)

A Conrad predominant retelling of The Summer I Turned Pretty TV show and book series.

Did you read the books and want to understand what was going on in that little noggin of his? Read my fic to find out that this man has zero thoughts

Chapter list

BELLY

Belly generally preferred when her and Jere stayed the night at her dorm, because his room was usually pretty untidy, and her dorm was much nicer than the frat house he lived in. Except tonight, they’d been drinking at a party thrown by the frat’s sister society. The houses were so close together, it only made sense to stay at his.

When they stumbled into his room, they were kissing, and touching, and grabbing. It always got like this after they’d been drinking, so frantic.

They fell onto his bed laughing like little kids. Jere looked at her once before crashing his lips to hers again.

They were kissing like that for a long time when Jere moved his lips a breath away from hers, “Belly… I really want to…”

His eyes met hers. He wanted to have sex. They’d been together for over a year now, practically one and a half now and they still hadn’t gone further than second base. Every time Belly thought she was ready, she just couldn’t. She didn’t know what was holding her back. She wished she were ready, if only for his sake.  

Belly sighed and pulled away. “Jere, I’m sorry, I’m just not ready.”

He moved and sat on the edge of the bed, running his hands through his curls. Even without their ESPN connection, she knew Jere was upset—frustrated. It was hard seeing him like this and knowing he was the reason.

He exhaled through his nose, “Belly, I just to know that someday you’ll be ready.”

Belly didn’t know what she was expecting him to say, but she was disappointed when he said it. I just want to always know you’re okay. The memory popped into her head, and she shook it away.

She placed a hand on Jere’s shoulder. “I just want it to be perfect and special, you know?”

“I know.”

Then Jere settled into the bed next to her, opening an arm for her to cuddle into him. She did.

Belly knew that everything was okay with them, that Jere would never push the issue and force her into doing anything that would make her uncomfortable, but she also felt like they both went to sleep disappointed that night.

The next day, Belly was up early. She’d always had a hard time sleeping in after a night drinking, but she was grateful because she had to head to her mum’s today.

She slid out for Jere’s grip. She didn’t even bother being graceful about it because he was unlikely to wake up otherwise. She found a little sticky notepad and wrote a reminder on it that she was meeting up with her mum today. She stuck it on his forehead. Still, he didn’t wake. Belly smiled.

“Mother, I’m home!” Belly called out as she entered through the door, her hands full. “And I bring laundry.”

Laurel walked around the corner and leaned against the kitchen doorframe, taking in the bags in Belly’s hands. “I hope you’re not expecting me to do it for you.”

Belly fluttered her eyelashes and smiled sweetly.

“No way.”

“Aw man.” She put the bags on the ground and closed the front door. Belly didn’t actually think Laurel would do it for her, but it was worth a try anyways.

Laurel came and gave her a kiss and a hug. “Are they feeding you right at college?”

She asked it every time they saw each other. Each time the real answer was no. It had less to do with what the college was feeding her, and more to do with what she, Jere, Taylor and Anika were feeding her. Except she didn’t say that to her mum, “Of course, I get all those important vitamins they tell you about… A, B, C, D. You know, all the good stuff.”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “I can’t decide if it makes me feel better or worse when you lie to me.”

Belly shrugged. “Just don’t think too hard about it and it’s fine. It works for me.”

Laurel ordered them lunch while Belly put her clothes in the washing machine. When she came back out, Laurel was sitting at the table with her laptop and some papers in front of her.

“Have you started planning your 50th yet?” Belly asked, peering over the computer. Laurel was looking at the reviews of her and Cleveland’s new book. Laurel shut the screen. “Mum, you’re obsessed with reading negative reviews. You do realise that the majority of people loved your book, right?”

She ignored Belly. “No, I haven’t even thought about my 50th. I don’t even know where to start.”

“That’s just because you don’t want to start.” Belly looked at her from the corner of her eyes.

“I wish Beck were here.” Belly nodded mournfully, except Laurel looked like she was holding back a smile. “If for no other reason than to throw this party for me. She was always better at it than I was.”

“Mum!” Belly slapped her mother’s arm.

Laurel put her head against her crossed arms on the table and groaned in a way Belly used to be scolded for when she was younger, “I hate this stuff.”

Belly laughed. “Who’s the child now?”

Laurel sat up, and Belly could tell the seriousness had returned as she looked out the window. Laurel sighed, “Seriously though, Belly, I never thought that I’d be turning 50 without her. She would have wanted to do this whole big thing, and I would have complained the whole time, but in the end it would have been great.”

Belly knew that she should just sit and listen. It wasn’t every day when her mother opened up.

Laurel continued. “You grow up with this idea of how your life is going to go, but you never know where it’s actually taking you. Sometimes it’s so sad like with Susannah, or it’s some happy accident like you.”

“Ew. Okay mum, I am cutting you off right there. It is too gross for you to refer to me as a ‘happy accident’.”

Laurel laughed. “You’re right, sorry Belly. Okay, come on, you can help me with the guest list.”

On her drive back to university, she thought about what her mum had said about you never knowing where your life is going. Belly had to agreed. For so long, she had thought she was going to end up with Conrad, at one point it seemed inevitable, but now she was a year and half into dating his brother instead.

It was one of those times that the tightly packed away memory of Christmas threaten to slip out, and instead of fighting it like she’d done every other time over the last two months, she just let it sit.

Conrad had seemed different. Good different though. He seemed… lighter. It made her feel lighter too.

She’d been worried about Conrad since he’d left for California. She hadn’t said anything to anyone else. She didn’t want to give them, especially Jere, the impression that she was worried about him because she was still in love with him. She wasn’t. It was just that he didn’t have anyone out there to support him. His family was here. The Fishers and the Conklins. Despite everything that had happened between them, they were still family.

So, seeing him tan and well-fed had lifted a weight off her shoulders that she hadn’t known had settled on her shoulders. It was also nice, just existing in Conrad’s space again without drama. It had been so long since they were just able to enjoy each other’s company.

She could admit to herself that she missed him. As a friend, of course. Except what about the moment on the couch? The relapse.

Her phone rang. It was Jere. She scrambled to put the memory away, to lock it up. She could never touch it again. It was too risky.

Next Chapter

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

There’s a fic on fanfiction(.)net that I’ve kept tabs on for years to see if it’s been updated or not. While I’m no longer even in the fandom it’s written for, it just has one of the greatest storylines I’ve ever read. Last time it was updated was 2011.

The other day, I decided to reread the entire thing and leave a very in-depth review of what I thought of each chapter. I also mentioned how I started reading it when I was 13 and am now 21, but always came back to see if it was ever finished because I loved it so dearly.

Today, said author sent me a private message saying that her analytics showed that the story was still getting views even after all these years, but no one ever bothered to leave reviews other than “update soon!!!”, so she never felt motivated enough to finish it. She said that me reviewing every single chapter with lengthy paragraphs made her cry and meant the world to her. She also mentioned that she felt encouraged to write the two remaining chapters needed to complete the story and that she would send me a message the night before she updates the fic.

I’m literally sobbing. I’m so excited :’)

Please always remember to leave a review when reading fanfiction!!! It means a lot to a writer.

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

The Summer I Fucked Up (Ch 23)

A Conrad predominant retelling of The Summer I Turned Pretty TV show and book series.

Did you read the books and want to understand what was going on in that little noggin of his? Read my fic to find out that this man has zero thoughts

Chapter list

CONRAD

When the door swung open to reveal a dishevelled Belly in the ugliest Christmas pyjamas Conrad had ever seen, holding a fire poker like she was ready to strike, he thought he was hallucinating.  

His candy cane fell from his mouth. “What in the world?”

He was confused, however, why he’d be hallucinating this. Maybe all the time delayed on that plane had rotted his brains.

Then her arms were around him and she was squeezing him tightly, a little breathy laugh escaping her lips, and Conrad knew he wasn’t imagining this. When Conrad dreamed of her, there was always something missing that reminded him it wasn’t real. He hadn’t realised how much was missing until this moment. Her scent. Her energy. Her in his arms.

“Why are you holding a poker?” It was the only thing he could think to say.

She stepped out of their embrace, and Conrad missed her warmth immediately. She looked sheepish when she said, “I thought you were a burglar.”

“Of course you did.” He had to bite back his smile. He had thought she was Steven, except in his defence it was Steven’s car in the driveway so that was a logical deduction. Belly assuming he was a burglar? Not so logical.

He followed her back to the living room and sat in the chair opposite the couch. The only light was from the flickering TV light, and Conrad could see that Home Alone had been playing. No wonder Belly let her mind run away from her.

He knew he still had that shocked look on his face, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t expecting her, and it had been almost year since he’d last seen her. “What are you doing here?”

“I was all alone at home, and I just felt like coming. What are you doing here? I didn’t even know you were coming back.”

He wasn’t planning to, but he’d missed Christmas last year since he’d only just moved to California. This year he didn’t have an excuse to miss it, not that he wanted one. It was nice to be back on the east coast, back in this house.

“My dad sent me a ticket at the last minute. It took us forever to land, because of the snow, so I got here late. Since Jere and my dad are still in New York, I figured I’d just come here.”  

He squinted at her. Now the shock had faded slightly, and he was able to get a good look at her face, Conrad could see brown stuff smeared all over her face.

“What?” She asked, smoothing down her hair that was sticking up at the back. She turned slightly to wipe at the corners of her mouth.

“You have chocolate all over your face.”

She wiped her mouth with the back of my hand. “No, I don’t. It’s probably just dirt.”

Amused, he raised his eyebrows at the near-empty can of chocolate-covered pretzels. “What, did you just put your whole head in it to save time?”

“Shut it,” Belly said, but she was smiling.

An easy silence fell between them, and Conrad watched as a Belly’s face turned pensive. She shivered, and he realised how cold the house must be. Conrad felt so hot though.

Taking off his coat, he said, “Want me to start a fire?”

“Yes! I couldn’t get it going for some reason.” She snuggled further into her blankets. She was practically swallowed by them.

“It takes a special touch,” Conrad said with an air of fake authority because he knew it would make her roll her eyes. It did.

He bent over towards the fire to light it and he was overcome with such a strong sense of déjà vu. The Christmas before last. That’s when they’d been here together, just like this, joking and laughing. Except here they were two years later, together again, but not together at all.  

It almost felt the same, but Conrad knew it wasn’t. A year away had changed him. It must have changed her as well. How could he expect her to be the same when he wasn’t?

Not that any of that mattered now, she was Jere’s girlfriend—not Conrad’s. They had just celebrated their first anniversary. He’d heard they were happy.

Conrad’s fingers started to shake a little, and he knew if he lit the fire now, he’d want to sit here and bask in its warmth, in hers. Who knows what he might say if he did that. Conrad thought back to the way Maurice said he’d described Belly like she’d died. Like Conrad had grieved her. Had he?

“It might be too late for a fire. I think I’m just gonna go crash.” Abruptly, he stood up and headed for the staircase. Then he turned back and asked, “Are you sleeping down here?”

“Yup,” Belly replied. “Snug as a bug in a rug.”

Conrad started again towards the staircase and stopped when he reached it. He looked at her over on the couch, watching him. “Merry Christmas Belly. It’s really good to see you.”

“You too.” She smiled back at him, and his heart reached out towards her, but his feet took him upstairs to his room.

Conrad was awake in his bed for a long time after that. Being here in the winter but knowing Belly was in her room like she’d been every summer, encompassed all of the similarities and differences Conrad felt. It was all the same, just a different season.

Adam had texted him while he sat at the counter, eating his breakfast. He’d said that they were still delayed getting back from New York, so they wouldn’t be home until tomorrow morning. Adam said Conrad was welcome to let himself in and wait for them. He knew he should, but he heard Belly’s bedroom door open, and he figured he might just stay a little while longer.

He'd just put a spoon of cereal into his mouth when he heard a smack and Belly go “Ow.”

He stood over her where she was lying on the ground at the base of the stairs, tears forming in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked, reaching out a hand to help her sit up, but she waved him off.

“Leave me alone.” She huffed, blinking fast.

“Are you hurt? Can you move?”

“I thought you were gone,” Belly said.

Did she hope he was gone already?

“Nope. Still here.” He knelt down beside her. “Just let me try and lift you up.”

She shook her head. Conrad rolled his eyes affectionately. Leave it to Belly to make a big deal about accepting his help.

Conrad got down on the floor next to her, and they both just laid there, looking up at the ceiling. Even lying next to her just felt electrifying. Conrad wondered how far he’d have to move his hand to touch hers. It didn’t feel far at all.

No. He couldn’t think like that.  

“How bad does it hurt, on a scale of one to ten?” He asked just to say something, but he also just wanted her to talk some more. “Does it feel like you pulled something?”

“On a scale of one to ten . . . it hurts an eleven.”

“You’re such a baby when it comes to pain,” Conrad said, but a little bit of worry crept into his voice. It sounded like a solid fall.

“I am not.” Belly’s response didn’t give him a lot of confidence considering it sounded like she was about to start crying.

“Hey, that fall you took was no joke. It was just like how animals slip and fall in cartoons, like with a banana peel.”

Her head snapped in his direction; any hint of tears gone. “Are you calling me an animal?”

He tried to keep his face straight, but the corners of his mouth were betraying him. When he turned to look at her, she was already looking at him with indignation and they both burst out laughing.

Mid-laugh, Belly stopped and said, “Ow.”

He sat up and said, “I’m gonna pick you up and bring you over to the couch.”

“No,” She protested weakly. “I’m too heavy for you. I’ll get up in a minute, just leave me here for now.”

Conrad frowned. “I know I can’t bench-press my body weight like Jere, but I can pick up a girl, Belly.”

He still made an effort to go to the gym when he can, but it was like a religion to Jeremiah who’d go stir crazy if he skipped a day. Conrad was offended that Belly thought he wouldn’t be able to carry her.

She just blinked at him. “It’s not that. I’m heavier than you think. You know, freshman fifteen or whatever.”

Her face reddened.

Conrad hated that she was even thinking about something like that at a time like this. He wondered if anyone had made a comment to her about it. Steven. Or Jeremiah. He knew it’d kill her to bring up her weight. They’d talked about it a couple times when they used to talk over the phone. She’d tell him about how being a chubby kid affected her, and how sometimes she was worried what would happen if the weight came back.

“Well, you look the same to me.” It was the truth. She still looked beautiful.

Then, very gently, he scooped Belly off the floor and into his arms. She held onto him with one arm around his neck. Even after all these years, she smelt the same.

Without looking at him, she added, “It was more like ten. Freshman ten.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

Conrad carried Belly over to the couch and set her down. “I’m gonna get you some Advil. That should help a little.”

She looked up at him, and Conrad swore it was like how she used to look at him. Before Jere. Before Conrad had fucked it up. But then Conrad blinked, and Belly had already looked away and had gone back to rubbing at her sore head, and he went to the kitchen and got her an Advil.

Conrad and Belly spent the rest of the day together, but not together, as was so familiar to them. It was fine with Conrad though. He’d didn’t have to be the sun or a planet— he’d accept being a star if it meant he could be in her solar system even just briefly. Distant and passing through.

He took the distant thing seriously. He tried to keep a fair amount of space between them. While she watched movies in the lounge room, he read in the kitchen. They shared canned soup and the rest of her pretzel for lunch, but he sat across from her at the table.

Except he still felt like he was so aware of her. The way she’d speak. How she’d tuck her hair behind her ears. The sound of her laugh when he said something. Even the easy silence had an impact on him.

When it started driving him crazy, he went out for a run. He let his legs fatigue as the worked against the sand, and he welcomed the sting of the winter air against his cheeks.

He stopped running and braced his arms against his knees as he doubled over to catch his breath.

“She’s Jere’s girlfriend. Jere’s. Pull it together.”

She was watching Casablanca when he came back. Her nose was tinged red and the couch was littered with tissues.

“This movie makes my heart hurt,” Her nose was blocked from all the crying, so it came out nasally and croaked.

Taking off his fleece, Conrad said, “Why? It had a happy ending. She was better off with Laszlo.”

She looked at him in surprise. “You’ve seen Casablanca?”

“Of course. It’s a classic.”

“Well, obviously you weren’t paying that close of attention, because Rick and Ilsa are meant for each other.”

Conrad snorted. “Their little love story is nothing compared to the work Laszlo was doing for the Resistance.”

She blew her nose and said, “For a young guy, you’re way too cynical.”

He rolled his eyes. “And for a supposedly grown girl, you’re way too emotional.” He headed for the stairs.

“Robot!” She yelled at his retreating back. “Tin man!”

He was laughing as he closed the bathroom door. Belly was so good at making him laugh.

When Conrad went to say goodbye that morning, Belly’s door was slightly ajar. He knocked lightly but there was no response.

“Belly?” He whispered.

He peaked his head in and she was sprawled across the bed, fast asleep. Her hair was all over the place and he swore she was drooling just a little bit.

Conrad bit back a smile and closed the door and left without another word.

It was always too hard to say goodbye to her anyways.

When he arrived home, he accepted a hug from his father and welcomed one from his brother. His dad had to take some call and so Conrad was left alone with Jeremiah.

“Merry Christmas man, sorry we couldn’t spend the day together. What’d you get up to in Cousins?” Jere slapped him on the back.

“Not much, Belly was watching movies, but I was sorta just hanging around the house, reading— I even went for a run.”

Jere blinked and smiled. “Right, yeah, that's what Belly said."

Next Chapter

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

The Summer I Fucked Up (Ch 22)

A Conrad predominant retelling of The Summer I Turned Pretty TV show and book series.

Did you read the books and want to understand what was going on in that little noggin of his? Read my fic to find out that this man has zero thoughts

Chapter list

CONRAD

“What do you mean you never learned to play chess?”

“I mean,” Belly looked him straight in the face, a mocking smile on her face. “That I never learned to play chess.”

Conrad was dumbfounded, looking at Belly. She was lying on her bed, swinging her legs in the air like she hadn’t said the craziest thing he’d ever heard. “But we used to play all the time at the beach house.”

“Correction. You, Jere, and Steven played chess all the time. I was only ever allowed to watch. Any time I even sat down to play, you boys got bored and ran off to do something else.” When he just stared at her in response, she continued, “But, I get the gist of it. Knight, King, Queen, prawn, all that.”

“Prawn?” Conrad clutched at his chest as if she’d shot him. “Belly, how could you even say something like that to me?”

She hopped off from her bed, over to where he was sitting at her desk, now with his head in his hands trying to wrap his head around it.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek, “Conrad it doesn’t matter.”

“Belly. I can’t live like this.”

Without another word, Conrad stood up and started walking out the door.

“Woah, woah, Conrad, where are you going?” Belly laughed, trying to block him from the door.

He gave her a stern look, grabbed her by the waist and lifted her out of his way.

Conrad left the Conklin’s house.

He returned thirty minutes later. Walking straight through the lounge room-after being letting by Laurel—and into Belly room where she was back on her bed, texting him furiously if the buzzing in his pocket was any indication. He placed a travel-sized chess board on her bed.

“Okay, Conklin, let’s do this.”

The chess board was one of the things that had made it to California with him. Conrad had meant to pack it away and put it in storage with his other stuff, but it took up barely any space in his luggage that it almost felt like a crime not to take it.

Walking back into his room after taking a shower, Conrad stroked his hand over the closed set, lost in thought.

“What’s that?” Agnes asked.

Conrad looked up. He’d thought she left when he went to the shower. She usually did.

They’d been seeing each other for a couple months now- two, almost three. Conrad thought it was nice. It felt really laid back. If he was honest, it was more of a study partner with benefits kind of situation, but he liked her well enough.

They’d just finished up on one of their “study breaks”, usually that signalled the end of their real studying for the night. Once they finished, one of them usually left. Most of the time, Conrad left first, but this was his room.

“A chess set.”

“Do you play?” She asked.

His hand stopped moving against the box, and he looked down. “Not much anymore.”

Agnes sighed, falling back on the bed. “Who’s got time for anything but pre-med these days anyways?”

Conrad agreed. He hadn’t done much else other than study since he’d moved to California. He’d been able to make it to the beach for a surf three times, maybe four.  

“Hey Agnes, I don’t want to kick you out or anything, but I’ve actually got somewhere to be.” Conrad rubbed his neck.

Agnes got up from the bed and straightened herself up in the mirror. Her short, wavy hair had been mussed up from when they’d had sex, but it took her no time to look like the respectable lab student she claimed she was.

“No worries, I’m supposed to meet some of the girls from my dorm in about 15 anyways, so I was on my way out anyways. I’ll see you later at the library for actual studying.”

She didn’t look disappointed, or even offended, and Conrad found himself glad. He was also glad when she didn’t ask what his plans were.

As she went to go out the door, she’d walked past him a step and seemed to change her mind. Stepping back, she leaned up and gave him a kiss on the cheek and then she was gone.

Conrad put a hand to his cheek. The feeling of it didn’t linger.

Conrad wasn’t exactly ashamed of where he was going. He’d just preferred not to tell anyone about it.

He’d done some research after one of his psych classes and figured he would attend a session— if only to soothe the nagging voices of the et al. Then he was attending them weekly for a while, but he’d dropped off in the last couple weeks or so since the semester had really started picking up and he was also spending more time with Agnes. Mostly to study. Sometimes not.

He walked into the building. The room had a little sign out the front, ‘Grief Group 1:30PM to 3PM’.

Conrad mostly just listened. Some of the others had lost loved ones to cancer as well, and he found comfort in hearing about the stories that resembled his and in the ones that didn’t. How some responded with anger and bottled it up and how others had just let it wash over them. Conrad thought the latter seemed better off.

It wasn’t that Conrad couldn’t talk to anyone else about Susannah. Admittedly, it was harder since he’d moved across the country. He sometimes talked to Laurel about it. Whenever Jere brought her up, Conrad struggled to speak afterwards, so the conversation never got far, and sometimes Jere just acted out like Conrad was doing some stoic man shit. He wasn’t. He just didn’t know how to comfort his brother when he could barely comfort himself. Conrad never tried to talk to Adam about it.  

“Conrad, is it?” The older lady running the session, Rosette, put a light hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to share?”

“Oh, okay.” He cleared his throat.

He’d barely told them anything in the time he’d been here. When he started to talk, he found he couldn’t talk about Susannah’s death straight away. He couldn’t even talk about the summer leading up to it. He couldn’t mention the how or the when or the why, because he was still figuring that out himself.  So, instead he talked about the aftermath.

Afterwards, the group dispersed for coffee and some snacks, and Conrad took a Styrofoam cup of coffee with shaky hands. He felt… better.

An older man approached him, offering him a cookie from the tin he was holding. Conrad took one.

He placed his other hand on Conrad’s shoulder. It was heavy. Sturdy. “Hey kid, I’m Maurice, I’m sorry for your loss. It’s just tragic that you lost your mum and that girl. Was it a car accident?”

Conrad’s eyebrows knitted together. “That girl?”

“Yeah, from the sound of your story, you lost your mum and that girl, uh, Belly, around the same time, right? Based on what you said, it sounded like they were close, so I thought that they might’ve gone together in a car accident or something.”

Conrad swallowed. Maurice wasn’t exactly wrong about him losing them at the same time.

“Uh, actually, no.” He looked down into the brown liquid swishing in his cup. “My mum died of cancer.”

Maurice looked surprised. “Oh, and the girl?”

Conrad tried to laugh it off, but his chuckle came out, sad. “She’s alive and well, Maurice.”

Maurice apologised and quickly moved on to offer some of the others refreshments.

Conrad took another sip of his coffee and looked out the window. More to himself than anymore else, Conrad said. “Alive and well.”

It was like Agnes could read his mind in the library that night. Conrad was staring at his textbook thinking about what Maurice had said at the group session, when Agnes asked if he’d ever been in love. Once, he told her. It had been something that dawned on him slowly, like waking up from a dream. He hesitated when Agnes asked if he was in love with her, because the truth was, he wasn’t. He really liked her, but it wasn’t love.

Her words lingered with him after they left her lips.

“You’re an honest guy, Conrad. But you don’t let people in. It’s impossible to get close to you. I think you still love that other girl, at least a little bit. Am I right?”

Then they went back to their studying, and they both knew it was over between them.

Next Chapter

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

The Summer I Fucked Up (Ch 21)

A Conrad predominant retelling of The Summer I Turned Pretty TV show and book series.

Did you read the books and want to understand what was going on in that little noggin of his? Read my fic to find out that this man has zero thoughts

Chapter list

CONRAD

“Conrad, are you even listening?”

He wasn’t. He was staring at his textbook, but his mind was somewhere else. His dad had texted him and Jere saying that he wanted to have a family dinner soon. It’d been a couple months since their last one which had been sometime between Susannah’s death and Adam trying to sell the Cousins’ house.

He twirled his pen in his fingers.  “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

Joshua kicked him under the table, forcing him to look up at his study group, most of which were staring at him, arms crossed.

“Okay, I deserved that.” Conrad rubbed at his shin a little bit. “What are we talking about?”

“Transferring.” Olivia gave him a sympathetic smile. “Have you thought about it?”

Conrad rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Brown’s a good school.”

Andrew shrugged and said, “Yeah, but don’t you want to be at a great school.”

Conrad nodded. He hadn’t thought about it all that much. The last year and a bit of university had just kind of happened to him. If his mother hadn’t gotten sick and died and everything else hadn’t gone to shit, Conrad wondered if he’d already have a transfer lined up. Hard to say. Now their family was held together by sticky tape in the aftermath and Conrad didn’t know whether to stay close or run further away.

Calling Laure had become this thing that ended up happening all the time without Conrad even realising it. It was mostly when he missed his mum, or he needed some motherly advice. He wasn’t sure that the advice that Laurel gave him was ever really that motherly. She didn’t have that soft touch that Susannah used to have—which was comforting in some ways but painful in others—but she always gave it straight.

That had been laughing about something Steven had done in front of the Dean of admissions when Conrad heard overly excited knocking at the door from Laurel’s end of the phone.

“Is that the man himself?” Conrad asked still laughing.

On the other end, he heard the giddy noise of Belly’s laugh, and Conrad let the sound wash over him with closed eyes. He tried to ignore the icicles that churned in his stomach at the same time warmth spread in his chest.

Slightly muffled, Belly said, “Mum! Look who’s here.”

“Laure!” Jere.

The warmth was gone now, and only ice remained.

Laure, temporarily distracted from their conversation, was greeting his brother, and Conrad couldn’t do anything but listen to how they all laughed together like it was the most natural thing in the world. It shouldn’t have felt so alienating. They had all known each other forever. It shouldn’t have been that different from when they interacted at the beach house without him. Except Conrad remembered when it was him, remembered when he was the one driving down from uni to surprise Belly. Now it was Jere.

“Mum, Jere and I are going to the movies.” Conrad could hear her fading away. “Oh my god, Jere, we should get Twizzlers for our drinks like we used to do when we were kids.”

Laurel had been the one to tell Conrad that Belly and Jere had become “official”. She’d dropped it just in the middle of conversation, assuming that Jere had told him already, and Conrad acted like it didn’t make him suck in a breath. He’d just carried on with the conversation like normal, but when he hung up, he had to place his hands against his desk to stop them shaking.

He wanted to believe he’d prepared for it. He’d given Jere the go ahead. He knew it was only a matter of time, especially since he’d pushed Belly away that one last time in the motel. Except how does one prepare for their heart to shatter? Even if they’re the one that took the hammer to it.

Finally, Laure was back on the phone. “Sorry, Connie, where was I?”

Conrad coughed, reminding himself how to speak. “Actually Laure, I’ve got to catch another study group in 15, so I better go.”

She sighed. “Beck would be so proud.”

It would have been easier swallowing glass. “Thanks Laure.”

That night, Conrad realised that being 5 hours away was still too close. The idea of being on the East Coast anymore felt so suffocating. He took out his computer and started applications for The University of California. His GPA was good, better than good even. Conrad had a real shot of getting in, and it would be an easy choice to explain. It was a top medical school, especially if you were interested in primary care like Conrad was. Conrad would never have to explain that the real reason he was moving across the country was because the girl he loved was now dating his brother.

They were all there to send him off. The Conklins and the Fishers reunited.

Conrad hadn’t packed much. California would be a fresh start, fresh everything. He’d mostly packed just clothes. A couple books, some photos and his guitar also made the cut, but basically everything else would stay here. His dad had agreed to store some of it in case he needed it.  

They all stood around the gate entrance. Conrad had a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Aw man, I can’t believe you’re leaving us.” Steven pulled him in by his hand and gave him a hug and a pat on the back. “You’re just getting too good for us, bro.”

Conrad exhaled through his nose. That’s not exactly how Conrad thought of it.

“My boy’s going to a top medical school.” Adam didn’t try to embrace him, knowing that Conrad probably wouldn’t like it, but his face was proud. As proud as his father could look, that is.

Laurel almost looked misty-eyed, “I wish he didn’t have to move to California to do it.” She gave him a quick, tight hug, planting a kiss on his cheek. “You better become a damn good doctor.”

Conrad chuckled at that. “No promises, Laurel.”

Jere and Belly stood to the side; Jere’s arm slung over Belly’s shoulders. They were laughing and joking, like always, and Jere was staring at Belly with his heart in his eyes. Belly was smiling back up at him. Conrad made sure not to look at them for too long. They tell you not to look at the sun.

He and Jere hugged quickly. Things between them had mostly improved, but it was hard in moments like these when Conrad had to see them together as a couple, but Conrad schooled his features. It was practically second nature to him now.

“We’ll talk soon right, Connie?”

“Of course.”

This would be good for them. Conrad could be a much better brother to him from a distance where he didn’t have to watch Jere and Belly be in love, where he wasn’t pining for her.  

Belly was the last one to say goodbye. Conrad wished everyone wasn’t watching them except she always had the ability to make moments feel private even when they weren’t.

He swore their hug lasted forever, but he knew that really it had only been a couple of seconds, if that.

Before they let go, she whispered in his ear, “You’re gonna do great, Conrad.”

He could hear the pride in her voice, thinking that he’s made some noble choice to move and be the best doctor he can be. Really, it was out of selfishness that he was going. Conrad felt like he was just surviving here. Surviving his mother’s death. Surviving giving Belly up. Conrad wanted the chance to do more than survive.

Then, she was out of his arms and back in his brother’s, and Conrad was flying across the country so he didn’t have to see it.

Next Chapter

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

The Summer I Fucked Up (Ch 20)

A Conrad predominant retelling of The Summer I Turned Pretty TV show and book series.

Did you read the books and want to understand what was going on in that little noggin of his? Read my fic to find out that this man has zero thoughts

Chapter list

CONRAD

By the time Conrad arrived back at the car, Jere was pacing-the nail of his thumb in his mouth. Even after half of an hour of walking his anger off, he still watched to punch Jere’s face into oblivion when he saw it. However, Conrad still needed a ride. They had all come in the one car, so they’d all have to leave in the same one too.

Jere noticed him then. “Where did you guys go?? Where’s Belly?”

So, she hadn’t come running straight back to Jeremiah after Conrad sent her away? Conrad didn’t know if that provided him any solace or not.

He didn’t hold back the bite from his voice when he said, “You’re not keeping tabs on your new girlfriend, Jere? Pity. You never know what you might lose when your back’s turned.”

Jere dropped his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck, “Con, man, don’t be like that.”

Conrad hopped back in the car and let the slam of the door speak for him. He couldn’t tell if the car was hot, or he was, so he would down the window.

Jere leaned in, his arms folded and braced on the door, trying to get Conrad to look at him. He didn’t.

“Connie… It’s Belly…”

He said it as if that was an explanation. It’s the fact that it was Belly that had driven him off the ledge. It was Belly. It was his Belly. It was his girl, and Jeremiah was just… some asshole. Some asshole who acted like he knew everything and everyone better than they knew themselves.

Every time Conrad thought of opening his mouth and saying something, the image of them all entangled popped back into his brain like it’d been branded there, and like a bull, he saw red.

Instead, he sat in the back. Quietly. His jaw clenched so tight if he was in his right mind, he’d worry some teeth would break.

Belly didn’t come back for some time. It was so long, in fact, that when he saw her in the distance walking to the car, the first emotion that came flooding through was relief. Everything else crashed over him in the next breath.

Jere let her drive.

Conrad couldn’t look at either of them, couldn’t speak, and no one else tried either. They just sat in silence in the car, even the music felt like it had stopped existing.

They had been driving for a while before they rain started hitting. Belly tried to drive through it, but when traffic started to slow to a stop, they decided to pull over at a gas station and wait it out.

They waited. And waited. And waited. But the sky did not let up, determined to make this miserable day stretch as far as it could.

At one point, Belly’s belly growled so loud, they could all hear it over the thunderous rain. She tried to cover the noise with a cough. Jere jumped out and ran in the gas station and when he came back, through her some snacks.

Conrad rolled his eyes.

“There’s a motel a few miles down,” Jere said, wiping his rain- soaked forehead with the back of his arm.

“Let’s just wait it out,” Conrad said. It was the first time he’d spoken since they’d left.

“Dude, the highway’s pretty much shut down. There’s no point. I say we just crash for a few hours and leave in the morning.”

Conrad didn’t say anything. Neither did Belly, who was inhaling the snacks like she hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“Belly, what do you want to do?” Jeremiah said it very politely, it wasn’t the kind of formal tone you used with someone you’d known your whole life and grown up with. There was an air of separation to it.

“I don’t care. Do whatever you want.”

By midnight, they were stumbling into a hotel room.

The boys let Belly take the bed, setting up to sleep on the floor on either side of it. She’d try to argue at first because there was two of them and they could share. Jere just told her to take it because she was the girl. The Belly Conrad knew would have fought it a little more, especially since Jere phrased it like that, but the day must have taken it out of her because she accepted it without another word.

They all slid into their respective beds.

Conrad’s mind wandered to the day’s events. He’d been able to avoid really thinking about it all day in the car, focusing on the world that passed or the raindrops that fell, but now, in this silence, trying to fall asleep, there was no escape.

Is this what Belly had felt when she had seen him and Aubrey together in the dark basement? They hadn’t been doing anything close to what her and Jere had been doing, except if she had felt a fraction of what he felt now, it’s no wonder she acted like that.

Every word from their conversation replayed in his mind on a loop, and he scrunched his eyes closed tighter to make them go away. Regret was fighting for dominance of all the other emotions, and it was winning. The things he’d said in anger had found their marks, but they were cruel and untrue.

In the room, Jere started to snore, and Conrad could hear Belly huff slightly in annoyance. She turned over, facing in his direction. They couldn’t see each other, but he had to say something.

He swallowed, his voice, a whisper. “Earlier, when I said I never wanted you. I didn’t mean it.”

It was one of the worst things he’d ever said. He couldn’t let it linger between them any longer than it already had. She needed to know that it wasn’t true. Even if he was still mad at the both of them, Conrad thought he might breakdown if he didn’t say it out loud.

She didn’t say anything. Conrad wasn’t even sure she was breathing.

He said it again to reassure her it wasn’t something she’d imagined. “I didn’t mean it.”

He thought he might say more. He even opened his mouth a couple of times to say something, but nothing came out. Because he had no idea what he wanted to say.

So, all he said was, “Good night, Belly.”

He couldn’t sleep that night- the events of everything that happened between them played like some sort of movie in his head. Screaming, crying, laughing, kissing. There was as much love as there was hate in their story.

If he just thought about what he truly wanted, it always came back to her. Belly.

Except it wasn’t that simple. Looking back on everything had happened, Conrad noticed a trend. He was the problem. Sure, Belly had caused her share of difficulties and misunderstandings between them, but most of them were a reaction to him, to his feelings and actions. Conrad had a history of pulling her close and pushing her away.

As the hours ticked by on the clock, let the realisation roll over him like a sickness. It wasn’t right what he was doing to her. How could he justify lashing out at her for trying to be with someone who was open and honest and unfailing when all he’d done is confused her? Even if that someone was his brother.

He knew if he said that he wanted to be together, she’d say yes-if the necklace in his pocket was any indication. Everything in his body ached for him to say it now, to reach over and touch the hand that dangled from the bed and tell her he loved her and none of it mattered, and they could be together. They’d kiss and everything would be right in the world again. But for how long?

Conrad was still messed up about Susannah’s death. Like a ghost, it haunted him. At times, he felt he needed an exorcist to expel the violent and shaking anger from his body. In others, he felt like he needed an altar devote his sorrow. Conrad often found himself begging for God—any god—to correct their mistake. How could Conrad even come to terms of a world without Susannah?

And by that time, he’d remembered his promise to his mum too—the one to look after Jere and take care of him.

His heart and his head were split into two. So, Conrad would do what he always did when they were in opposition, and side with his head.

He would let Belly go. He would let Jere be with her. He would keep his promise to his mother, and he would protect Belly from himself. Conrad wouldn’t drag her down with him anymore. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, and she deserved better than that. Belly deserved everything that he couldn’t give her right now, but Jeremiah could.

If he had to let her go to be with anyone, at least he knew that Jere loved her like the whole summer family did. He’d take care of her.

The next morning, Conrad told Jere it was okay with him that Jere liked Belly as long as he took care of her. Then when Belly came out and looked at him with hopeful eyes, he kept his face blank, and the love in her eyes sputtered and blinked out. Conrad had killed it, and a little bit of his own heart withered and died with it.

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