Clean Break

by Erin McLellan

  “Thank you,” I said awkwardly.

  “Here’s the important question, Connor. Do you want to be a farmer in Elkville?”

  My no clanged like a slammed gate in my ears. It resonated in my head.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “But I’m scared.”

  That might have been the first time I’d admitted that out loud, and my stomach rolled.

  Dr. Greer peered at me thoughtfully. “You’re your own person, Connor. You are not your fathers. Or your mother. And I’ll give you the same advice that I’d give anyone who came in here unsure of career trajectory: you deserve the right to forge your own path, but pragmatism isn’t something to sneeze at. My job as a career advisor is to push my students in the direction that fulfills their goals and dreams but will also provide them a sustainable career. I think you could shine in Elkville. I think you could grow your family’s businesses, be an innovator in the field and an entrepreneur. You could do a lot of good here. But, you can also use those skills and strengths somewhere that isn’t so weighed down with baggage. If you don’t want to live in Elkville forever, you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t plan your entire life around your parents’ desires for you.”

  “So what do I do?” I asked.

  “Think about it really hard. Your decision doesn’t only affect you, which is different than a lot of students, so examine your motivations. Do a bit of research on other jobs. I’m going to email you some organizations and companies that I think will match your strengths, if you decide you want to step away from the opportunity you have here in Elkville.”

  He pulled up his email and started typing. He discussed the contacts he was sending me. Several of them were in Dallas and Kansas City. One was in Memphis. A couple of the contacts were in other rural parts of Oklahoma, but two were based out of Oklahoma City, which would be close to Travis.

  One of those organizations stuck out in my head: Farming the Future. It was an educational organization that worked closely with the Oklahoma Cooperative Extension Service, as well as organizations out of state. They provided classes, grants, and resources on sustainability and alternative farming futures to farmers around the region. Their main focus was new farmers, but they also specialized in educating the general public and helping existing farms with grants. Dr. Greer had called it a “woo-woo, new age-y upstart,” but he’d said that like it was a good thing.

  I wasn’t sure I was brave enough to work somewhere like that, to take that step.

  After I left his office, I hoped to feel a calm settle in my chest, one that would tell me what the right decision was. The right path.

  But I didn’t. I was conflicted as ever, but now with more viable options.

  Chapter Eighteen

  TRAVIS

  Today when I sat down next to Connor in class, he smiled at me.

  His dimples popped, and I was ruined.

  “I like you in that color,” he said. I was wearing a toffee-colored Henley that was almost too warm for the weather now that Oklahoma was in the throes of spring. “And the glasses. You’ve got the sexy intellectual thing going on today.”

  Ah shit. A flirting Connor was a dangerous Connor.

  “It’s not hard to look smart and sexy when you are smart and sexy,” I joked, and he laughed brightly.

  Was he trying to destroy me today?

  After we completed the partner participation questions, Dr. Greer reminded the class that our Madagascar hissing cockroach observation papers were due next week.

  “I know some people are struggling in this class because their attendance hasn’t been great and they’ve missed too many partner participation questions,” Dr. Greer said. Getting to interact with my partner was the only reason my attendance had been stellar. I had close to an A-plus in the class. “So for the observation paper, I’ll give you extra credit if you include at least one paragraph comparing your cockroach’s habits with that of your partner’s. You can discuss eating patterns, food preferences, occurrence of hissing, behavior, etc. I’ve added this to the assignment sheet in the online portal for the class. It will be worth up to twenty extra points on the final grade of the paper.”

  Dr. Greer segued into his lecture, and I slipped a notecard off Connor’s workspace.

  I wrote on the stolen card, “Do you need the extra credit?”

  He frowned at the card when I handed it back. Then he tipped it upside down, cocking his head right and left, like he couldn’t read it. He wrote, “Can’t read that. Your handwriting sucks.”

  I laughed, my shoulders shaking as I tried to stifle it. He’d been deciphering my bad handwriting all year. I was absolutely lost to a playful Connor.

  “You suck,” I responded.

  “Only if you ask nicely . . . I’ll never turn down extra credit.”

  Warmth filled my chest at his words. I didn’t need the extra credit. I was sure Connor didn’t either.

  “Same here.”

  He nudged me with his elbow, a smile curling his mouth again. Then he wrote, “Let’s meet tonight. I’ll cook you dinner.”

  All the happiness in my chest deflated. “Like a date?” I scrawled out quickly.

  He stared at my note for half a second before snapping, out loud, “No. I’m well aware you don’t want that, Travis.”

  The classroom spun around me, and he sunk lower in his seat when the people near us all glanced his way. Luckily he hadn’t spoken loud enough for Dr. Greer to hear.

  I grabbed the notecard and wrote, “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged and shook his head.

  By the end of class, I was on edge, my body tight with tension. Connor didn’t say a word as we walked down the stairs together. We reached the fourth floor, and I couldn’t stand this anymore. I dragged him into the hallway and stopped us twenty feet from our closet. The hallway was deserted, as usual.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  Hurt softened the edges of his eyes, and his beautiful mouth was a tight line of sadness. I’d always loved reading his face—the stoicism in it, the light in his eyes when he allowed himself to feel, the history in every scar and frown and smile.

  Right now, his face was all wrong and so sad.

  “Are we not allowed to be friends?” he asked. “We spent all of spring break together without kissing or fucking, and it was great. Now you act like you can hardly stand to be in the same room as me.”

  Spring break had been extended foreplay, and we both knew it. There wasn’t anything friendly about the way he’d made me feel that week.

  “We are friends. I’m sorry I’ve been a little absent.”

  His hands clenched into fists. “Is it because of what I said after you fucked me? Is that why you don’t want to hang out anymore? Because you know that I lov—”

  I pressed my hand over his mouth. “Don’t you dare say that, Connor.”

  His eyes flashed, and I recognized that expression. It was the one he gave me when he wanted to throw me around. When he wanted to spank me until I screamed.

  He gripped my wrist hard and dragged my palm away from his mouth. My heart was thundering in my ears, and I felt absurdly close to tears.

  “This has never been only friends-with-benefits,” he said from between his clenched teeth. “So don’t act all surprised by it now, Travis.”

  “Fine. You’re right. But we’re really compatible sexually. Maybe that’s why—”

  “Stop. You’re wrong and you know it.” Connor’s nostrils flared and his face flushed. “Do you really think I’d have hearts in my dumb eyes over anyone as long as they let me spank them?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying at all.” I had no idea what I was trying to say, but the kink we’d explored together hadn’t been on my mind. This conversation was shredding me, and I couldn’t figure out how to shore up my defenses. To stop the hurt pummeling both of us.

  Our feelings for each other didn’t change reality. We were compatible in every way that mattered except one—professionally.


  “I’m not going to lie about my feelings, or let you diminish them,” Connor said, his jaw ticking. I wanted to touch that fluttering muscle. Still it.

  “That’s fair, but we can’t change the rules.”

  That was total nonsense.

  “What rules? The only rules I remember are you telling me you didn’t want a boyfriend, but you’ve been treating me like one for most of the semester, and that we didn’t have to be monogamous. So have we not been monogamous for the last few months? I certainly haven’t been with anyone else.”

  I hadn’t been with anyone else either, but that didn’t change the fact that we had no future. He glared at me. I closed my eyes and tried to calm my breathing. Maybe I could meditate this panic away.

  I opened my mouth to answer, and he put his fingers over it, startling me.

  “You don’t have to tell me if you’ve been with other guys. I don’t care one way or the other,” he said. “It wouldn’t change the way I feel about you.”

  He kissed me, and I kissed him back. It was stupid. Like really stupid, and not only because we were in the middle of an ag building hallway.

  He spun us around and pressed me into the wall. His kiss was so hard, all teeth and angry pressure, that I was sure I’d bruise. I wanted to bruise. He kissed me like he was trying to prove a point. Like he needed to take out his anger on me.

  I ripped my mouth away to catch a breath, and he immediately put his lips to my ear.

  “I haven’t been with anyone else,” I gasped.

  “I wouldn’t have cared. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” he whispered. “You’re open and unique and adventurous. I have fun when I’m with you. We click. We fit. You make me so happy. And I’m trying to figure my shit out, Travis. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but we could work. I just need some time.”

  Ah fuck. Mayday. Systems crashing.

  My whole body trembled in his arms, and my breath hitched with aborted tears. I would not cry in this stupid fucking hallway. He was not allowed to ruin me like this.

  “It’s impossible,” I said. He ground his forehead into my shoulder at my words, and I dropped my arms from around his neck. “You want things that I don’t.”

  A lie—a huge, hulking, ugly lie. But it finally got him to put space between us. I deserved to pursue my dreams, and I couldn’t let some guy I fell in love with at twenty-two fuck them up. I wasn’t ever going to compromise on living in Elkville, Oklahoma, and he couldn’t leave it.

  His face shut down, and the blankness in his eyes scared me.

  I’d broken something precious. Something sacred.

  “Oh shit, Connor. I’m sorry. I do have feelings for you. But I’m—”

  I started to reach for him again. What the fuck was I doing? He shied away from me slightly, so I stopped. “It’s fine. You’re still welcome to come over tomorrow night to talk about our cockroaches. I won’t make you dinner.”

  “You sure?” I asked, and he nodded.

  I shouldn’t go. We needed the extra credit about as badly as we needed the heartache. Meaning not at all.

  We were playing in traffic at this point. It was dangerous and stupid and we were only hurting each other, but maybe I could salvage it. Maybe I could salvage his smile and the strength of his hands and the light in his eyes, so it would shine for someone else someday.

  I showed up at Connor’s the following night with a bag of hamburgers, hoping food could work as a peace offering. Connor let me in and gave me a brief side-hug.

  The counter of his kitchenette was covered in food from his pantry, all lined up. I stared at it for a minute, confused. He didn’t offer an explanation, and I wasn’t sure I could ask for one. God, how had I messed this up so badly? And it was on me. I’d ruined this. Not him. He’d been honest about his feelings, and I’d freaked.

  He took the burgers and directed me to the table, which had a few pieces of paper lined up on it. Connor went about putting our food on plates, real ceramic ones, and getting us drinks in cups that weren’t plastic. If I’d been alone, I would have eaten leaning over the take-out bag.

  I shuffled the papers together, which all seemed to be to-do lists, and moved them over to Connor’s coffee table. As I set them down, the title of one caught my eye. It said, “Bucket List” at the top. I studied it.

  Eat sashimi

  Fly in an airplane

  Hold Cressida in my hand

  Ride a subway

  Lose my virginity

  Spank someone with a paddle

  See a famous person in the wild

  Live somewhere with a view that’s not pasture

  See a musical on Broadway

  Read Moby Dick or similar classic

  Fall in love and be honest about it

  There were straight, precise lines drawn through the items “Lose my virginity” and “Spank someone with a paddle.” My hands shook. The last item on the list jumped out at me. The ink on it was darker, fresher, like it’d just been written.

  “What the hell is this?” I asked.

  Connor glanced up from the counter where he was arranging our food. The color drained from his already pale face.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about seeing stuff we’d done on this list. Was that why he’d wanted to fool around with me? To fulfill some bucket list items?

  Or did those get added after we’d already started hooking up?

  Which was worse?

  “It’s a bucket list,” he said.

  “No shit, Connor.”

  “Why are you mad?”

  “I’m not.” I wasn’t, but discomfort made my stomach pitch. I shook my head and frowned down at the list again. What did it say about me that I wanted to be on this list? I wanted to see him succeed in all these endeavors. I wanted to help him.

  What did it say about me that this list hurt me?

  “Why did you make this?”

  “I like lists.”

  His voice was off today, but mine probably was too.

  I moved back to the table, and he plopped a plate down in front of me. He picked up his burger, then sat it back down before glancing around his apartment like he was preoccupied.

  “When did you start the list?” I asked. Was that what I should be focusing on here? Sometimes I was sure I was missing the big picture when it came to Connor. Sure I was only scratching the surface of what he needed.

  He shrugged, his shoulders lifting sharply and dropping. “Wrote it out this semester.”

  “I hate to sound egotistical, but is our, umm, whatever we have because of—”

  “Friendship.” His voice was so sure, and the scary fluttering of my heart calmed a bit.

  “Right. Did you want to be my friend so you could lose your virginity? So you could spank someone?”

  So much for calm. I was suddenly worried that he’d heard about my reputation. Maybe that was why he’d agreed to fool around outside the Yard last year. Or why he’d asked me into the storage closet this semester.

  I had no idea what I wanted his answer to be.

  No, that was a lie. I wanted him to say fuck no. I wanted to be more than a strikethrough on his bucket list.

  He grabbed my wrist on the table. “No. I wanted to spank you, so I added it to my bucket list. We’d already talked about using a paddle when I added it. Do you know how some people add easy things, like shower or eat breakfast, to their to-do lists so they feel a sense of accomplishment when they can mark it off?”

  “Spanking me was the easy thing on your bucket list? I don’t know if I should be flattered or—”

  He rubbed a hand over his face, so I shut up.

  “I’m sorry, Travis. I’m not using you. I promise.”

  That was good. Wasn’t it? Now I could freak out about the fact that I was on his bucket list. It was in a roundabout way, but still. The last line—Fall in love and be honest about it—flashed in my head like a strobe light. Fuck.

  I finished my burger in silence. He didn’t touch
his.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” I asked.

  He gifted me a stiff smile that didn’t reach his hazel eyes. No dimples. “No. I’m sorry. I think I’ll save this for later.”

  Before I could respond, he’d boxed his hamburger into a nice plastic container and stuck it in his refrigerator.

  “So what about the rest of this list?” I asked.

  “What about it?” His lips pressed together so hard they almost disappeared.

  “Don’t be mad,” I said, panic slipping into my voice. I just wanted him to understand what I was starting to suspect, especially after seeing his bucket list. “Your jaw clenches every time you bring up the farm. You drop hints about being scared to be tied down here, about longing for adventure, but disguise them as normal career insecurity. Are you sure working there is what you really want?”

  His eyes were wide, shocked, and his mouth twisted in anger. “You’re the one who can’t imagine being happy here, Travis. Not me. You’ve made your disdain quite clear. Thank you. You’re reading way too fucking much into a stupid list that was supposed to be private.”

  The impulse to be a jerk—a bigger one—coiled on the back of my tongue. I hadn’t felt this way since the beginning of the semester, when I’d been sure I hated him.

  Now, I was angry with myself and taking it out on him.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s fine. You’re not completely wrong, but it’s more complicated than that,” he said softly.

  I couldn’t stay sitting. Couldn’t stay in my own space. Needed to be close to him again. I scooted my chair nearer to him and grabbed his hand.

  He opened his eyes, and I kissed his knuckles. “Shakespeare.”

  “What?”

  “You should read some Shakespeare. Better than Moby Dick, if you’re just going to randomly choose a classic to put on your bucket list. Go with Shakespeare.”

  “You have two different copies of Moby Dick on your bookshelf.”

  Was that why it was on his list? Ah shit. I had to swallow back emotion. This conversation was too much for me.