I hoped to pocket his insecurities like ammo since he never showed any. I could use it against him, if need be. He often prodded me the same way. Whereas I stayed padlocked for much longer, he answered my questions even if, deep down, I didn’t really want their answers. The facts drill my brain. Eight years ago at a Model UN conference, I spotted Connor exiting the bathroom, another guy right behind him, sans blazer or nametag. Connor wiped his bottom lip, their hair equally disheveled, indecent; the way people look after a quickie. Connor blew him, I deduced. What I didn’t know until years later: Theo Balentine and Connor were dating. Not openly. Hence the rendezvous in the hotel restroom. And this was different from Caroline Haverford. Connor called his time with her “eleven months and twenty-two days of vapidity and boredom.” He called his time with Theo “fun.”
