“Don’t get me wrong—I think that’s brilliant and just more proof that you are a genuinely good person. But…it seems bizarre that you’d have so many followers for giving useful tips.”
He bit his bottom lip, and I watched as he nibbled on it.
I poked him in the arm. “What are you leaving out?”
“Hmm? What makes you think I’m leaving something out?”
“Uh, the fact that you have no poker face and you look as if you’re avoiding giving me all the details of your TikTok. You know what?” I reached into my back pocket and grabbed my cell phone. “Let me just pull out my phone and look you up and—”
“Okay, wait!” he said, tossing his hand in front of my phone. “Okay. So there is a little bit more to my TikTok.”
“Do tell.”
“I give the tips while dancing…”
“You do TikTok dances?”
“As if it’s my day job.” He narrowed his blues and shook his head. “You’re judging me.”
“I’m not. I just…the image of you doing those dances brings me more joy than I thought possible. I bet you do them shirtless,” I joked.
The way his face read guilty made me jump up and down.
“Oh my gosh! You do, don’t you? Connor…” I glanced around the penthouse to make sure no one was listening, and I moved in closer to him. “Do you set up thirst traps?”
“I do not set up thirst traps!” he whisper-shouted. He went back to biting his bottom lip and sighed. “Okay, I set up thirst traps, but you have to understand…supply and demand is the way the world works.”
“So you supply your knowledge, and they demand your abs?”
He gave me a wicked grin. “You think I got abs, Red?”
I rolled my eyes. “Look at your arms, Cap—your biceps are growing their own biceps. I’m sure your stomach exhibits that same level of fitness.”
“What, these ole things?” He smirked as he not-so-casually flexed his arms, posing as if he was the freaking Rock.
“Oh my gosh, stop,” I whispered, feeling my cheeks heat as people looked our way. “People are staring.”
“Should I take off my shirt and give them a real show?”
“Only if you do a TikTok dance.” I laughed. Even though he was so embarrassing, he made me laugh more than I had in a long time by simply being a dork.
“I like that, too, you know,” he said as he stopped his dramatics. “When you laugh.”
And just like that, he went from making me laugh to making me swoon.
I tried to shake off the butterflies that had no business existing within me, but still, they lingered.
“It weirds me out a little,” he confessed, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “How easy it is to joke around with you. I mean, I have a pretty easy time being around most people—it’s in my character as a people person—but being around you is effortless. You make it easy.” He looked up toward Damian, who was staring our way. He gave Connor a single nod, and then Connor nodded back. “Those people Damian just spoke to will probably put an offer in tonight.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because Damian almost smiled. It’s a done deal. Come on, let’s wander a little bit more.”
I began walking with him and suddenly felt extremely light-headed. I blinked a few times as my vision blurred. The room began spinning faster than I could handle, and my heart began racing faster as I reached out for the closest wall to steady myself.
Connor instantly grew alert and moved in toward me. “Aaliyah, are you o—?”
Blackness.
Syncope.
Noun.
Definition: The temporary loss of consciousness caused by a fall in blood pressure.
Also known as the medical term for passing out.
Two years ago, I didn’t know what syncope was. Two years ago, I didn’t know a lot of medical terms. I didn’t know the ins and outs of a hospital room. I didn’t know that sometimes it took hours to be seen in an emergency room. I missed those days when I didn’t know.
I sat on the uncomfortable hospital bed after being given a script for medications due to my fall. I didn’t remember exactly what happened, but when I came to Connor was standing over me with concerned eyes.
I remembered a warm sensation tickling down my face as I placed my hands against my skin, then pulled my fingers back to see red painted against my thumb.
“I’m bleeding?”
“You hit your head on the side table on your fall. We should get you checked out at the hospital,” Connor said.
I disagreed.
I didn’t want to go to the hospital.
He disagreed with my disagreement.
He worried about a concussion.
I worried about my heart, and what the hospital might’ve told me.
I knew that wasn’t a good reason to not go get checked out, but it seemed every time I went into a hospital, I came out with worse news than before. All I wanted to do was be normal for a moment. All I wanted to do was interview Connor, get a look inside of his world, and become a senior editor.