Disclaimer: Neither Meme nor I own the Ducks, or anything else you recognize from the movies.
I mutter a goodbye to Connie and enter my room. I close the door behind me and stand against it, banging my head off it lightly. I have no idea why I snapped at Connie like that. She was right, I was cold, why couldn't I just admit that? Sighing, I turn and head for my bed. I go back to where I had been a couple of hours earlier – laid deep in thought on my bed. I closed my eyes and slipped into a troubled sleep, even though it was only five thirty.
I woke with a start and looked at the clock on the nightstand. Quarter past ten. I've been asleep for nearly five hours…I had homework to…wait, no, it's Saturday. Never mind. I realise I need the bathroom. I attempt to swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand up, only to find I'm tangled in the sheet. Of course, having realised this too late, I crash to the floor, unable to stop the inevitable.
"Shit!" I swore loudly, disentangling the sheet from my legs. Finally free, I stand up and scan the room. Kenny is nowhere to be seen. Surprise, surprise. I really don't know why they didn't just let me room with Fulton again. We didn't cause that much trouble last semester. We're causing even less this year since Fult got a girlfriend. Apparently she used to play for the Ducks in Peewees and she and Fulton have a bit of a history or something. Tammy, I think her name is. She seems nice enough. Anyway, I'm off the subject here. Kenny tries to be a good little Bash Brother, but he's just too…good. A note stuck to the mirror in the bathroom tells me that he's studying in the library and that I shouldn't wait up. Shaking my head, I tear it down and throw it in the wastebasket. That boy spends far too much time in the library.
Finishing up in the bathroom, I make my way back to my bed, pausing to change out of my clothes. My thoughts drift back to Connie and how hurt she had looked when I snapped at her. I still can't believe I did that. Climbing back into bed, I sat, leaning my head against the wall. She must hate me. She was trying to help, trying to be a good friend and that's how I repay her. Closing my eyes, I groan. I'm an idiot.
Suddenly, I get an urge to call her. To apologise for being a jerk. Quickly, before the urge passes, I grab the phone from the nightstand and dial her number. As I listen to the dialling tone, I'm aware of a faint stinging sensation in my left arm. I look at it and realise I have a carpet burn stretching from my elbow to midway down my forearm. Great. That's gonna sting when I put my hockey gear on. Luckily, before I can get distracted by thoughts of hockey, Connie answers.
"Hello?" she asks, in a soft, sleepy voice.
"Um…hey, it's me." I say nervously.
"Dean? What's the matter?" she asks, sounding instantly more awake.
"Huh?" I ask, confused, before looking at the clock and realising that it's kinda late. "Oh, no, nothing's wrong! I just…I wanted to apologise for snapping at you earlier. It was uncalled for." I say hastily, hoping it didn't sound too weird.
"Oh good, you had me worried for a second there." Connie replied, sounding noticeably relieved, before continuing, "You wanted to apologise? Dean, that's nice but it's nearly ten thirty. Couldn't it wait until morning? I mean, I was just about to go to sleep. I would have thought you'd be doing the same."
"I, uh, I just woke up. I couldn't go back to sleep without saying I'm sorry. It's been bugging me ever since I got back to my room. You were only trying to help. I had no right to snap at you like that…especially considering you were right." I say. I can't let her go without apologising and besides, it was a lot easier to admit that she was right when I'm sat here in my nice warm bed.
Connie sighed. "It's fine Dean, really. Just…go to sleep and don't worry about it. I'll see you in the morning." She sounds slightly hurt…or annoyed. I can't tell which. I decide to try one more time to get her to listen to me.
"Connie, I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to snap at you like that." I say desperately. I want to make this right. I don't want her to feel like I wasn't grateful to her. If it hadn't been for her insistence, I would have just laid on my bed all afternoon, moping.
"Dean, Dean, don't worry about it. Seriously, it's fine. I know you didn't mean it. I'd love to stay up and talk, but I really am tired. If you let me go now, I promise I'll come see you tomorrow. We can hang out or something, okay?" Connie replied, chuckling a little.
I smiled into the phone, which is pretty pointless since she can't see me, she isn't mad at me for being a jerk! I'm glad about that.
"Really? So you're not mad at me for being an ungrateful jerk?" I ask, hopefully.
"Of course I'm not mad. Did you really think I would be?" she replies.
"Well, yeah. I mean there you were, prepared to listen to me whinge and whine about my parents' divorce and being concerned about my health and all I could do was snap at you because I didn't want to admit I was wrong. I think you deserved to be mad. You gave up an afternoon of street hockey for this, and I don't want you to think I'm not grateful, because I am. Unbelievably so. Before you offered, I'd never talked to anyone about any of this stuff. Not even Danny or Fulton, and I tell Fulton everything, but this…this wouldn't come out. I couldn't talk to him about it. You're different. For some reason, I want to talk to you and I'm so glad I did now. I feel a lot less stressed out about the whole thing. You really helped, Cons. Thank you." I say. I can't believe how nice she's being over this. I know it's not the most major thing ever, but I still believe you don't treat your friends that way.
"You've never talked to anyone but me?" Connie asked.
"No. That's why I'm so grateful. You didn't push for answers or anything. You let me do it on my own, which I was really grateful for." I answered, honestly.
"Well I'm glad you felt you could talk to me, and I'm glad that I've helped in some way." She said, and I could hear the smile return to her voice. I could picture her, sat in bed in her pyjamas with a smile lighting up her pretty face. Wait…did I just call Connie pretty? I mean I would never call her ugly, because she's not, but I've never thought of her as pretty before. She's just…Connie, but now, the more I think about her, the prettier she gets in my mind. I suddenly realise that the more I talk to her, the more I don't want to stop talking to her. I think that I, Dean Portman, have a crush on Connie Moreau.
I make my mind up about one thing; I can't let her know. Not yet anyway. I wouldn't want her to think I'm using my parents as an excuse to get close to her. I wouldn't do that. I have more respect for her than that. If she likes me back, I want it to be because she genuinely likes me, not because she feels sorry for me. I wonder if she'll let me take her out, as friends, to say thank you for being there…only one way to find out, I guess.
"Connie, will you answer one thing for me before I let you go?" I asked
"Sure, go for it." She replied.
"Would you, um, maybe, want to go to the movies with me tomorrow? My treat, to say thank you for being a great friend?"
punkteacher - Thank you. Glad you like our representation of Portman. Hope you like this chapter!
duckys - nods Poor Connie. Hopefully Portman has put things right now.
Banksiesbabe99 - Thank you! Hopefully you'll like this chapter as much as the others. The romance is coming slowly, lol.
Cinnamon Spice - Ooh, new reviewer! Glad you like the story, hopefully you'll like this next chapter.
Please read & review!