From childhood, Connor was the one I knew best. I discovered early on that he cried easily, which I found amusing, so I would tease him daily. As we grew older, Jordan and Logan got busy with their own interests—one loved basketball and the other was devoted to studying—leaving me mostly with Connor.
Connor played the piano beautifully, and I would often coerce him into playing for me.
Starting in middle school, we spent many hours together in the school's piano room. Eventually, he taught himself to play the violin and guitar, much to the benefit of my ears.
There was even a time when people misunderstood our close friendship as an early romance.
Everything changed the day I overheard Jordan calling him a traitor. What! Was Connor actually a spy they had sent?
I promptly went and complained to Taylor's parents, deciding to distance myself from Connor.
After that, for a long time, whenever Connor, Jordan, and Logan met, they wouldn't even greet each other. My mom even commented that it seemed like they had had a fight.
"Really? That's interesting," I remarked casually.
"What did you say?" my mom asked.
"Oh, nothing, just that it’s really sad," I replied and then, crouching behind Connor, I grabbed him excitedly and asked, "Are you three fighting?"
With a guitar on his back, Connor stepped back, his voice low, "You think of me only when it comes to gossip?"
"Hey, at least I thought of you," I retorted.
Connor remained silent.
I pressed, "Why won't you talk? Why are you guys fighting?"
He stayed quiet.
Frustrated, I bit back, "Is it because I forced you to play the piano recently? Why hold a grudge?"
As I spoke, I resigned myself, "Forget it, you've always disliked me. There’s no point in asking."
With that, I turned and left.
Back home, the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. To think I had even hugged him before!
In eighth grade, when Connor's grandmother passed away, he couldn't stop crying. I couldn't stop crying at her funeral either. Taylor's grandmother had mostly lived in the countryside, but every summer, she stayed in the city. I adored her, and during her visits, I often went to Connor’s house. She would spoil me with treats.
I would playfully complain to her, "I wish I were your granddaughter. Connor isn’t thoughtful at all, he doesn’t take care of you!"
Connor, standing by, would just look puzzled.
Taylor's grandmother would pat my head, laughing, "I do think of you as my granddaughter."
Time flies so fast; she left us too soon. At the funeral, I tearfully pushed Connor, "Taylor's grandma once told me she always wondered if her future granddaughter-in-law would be lovely. Why don’t you get a girlfriend?"
Connor cried, "But I’m only in middle school."
As we both continued crying, I nearly collapsed, and Connor instinctively caught me.
That led to us ending up in each other's arms, crying together.
