connie.

    to connie, sam was always the one to be worrisome, but in
    the end become comforting. sometimes she had wondered
    how much that took a toll on him because she knew that it
    could sometimes be exhausting. balancing two very differing
    emotions took a toll and she had to give all the props to him.

    though, here she was again, back in arms of someone she 
    so loved. connie always ended up in someone’s arms, but
    now it only felt different because his arms felt like matt’s. it 
    could’ve been a dangerous situation, but beneath all the an-
    ger bestowed within the lowest parts of her aching body, she
    missed him. she missed matthew and his arms that grasped 
    around her didn’t help much. what set it off was that light peck
    to her temple. 

    connie didn’t think of it as any sign of love or not even admiration.
    it was almost in the moment, his way of saying another silent “it’s
    okay”. connie pulled away for a second, eyes extra shimmery from
    the tears that had begun to burn at her at the bottom of her eyes. 
    she was silent, but soon ( upon the tips of her toes ) gotten close
    to sam’s face and returned the kiss on his cheek, but close enough
    to touch the corner of his lips.

    “ i hope he won’t be mad, “ she responded, no smile growing on 
    her facade. she was almost emotionless, caught in her own thoughts
    again yelling at her.

                           “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” 

      it’s a platonic gesture, he thinks, his mind dead-set on believing
      it. although, his heart differs with its subtle beats that turn not-so
      whenever he’s around connie. he built this large dam of trust
      that’s meant to fill with her care, her friendship, & a little room
      stored for something more intimate which he doesn’t know is still
      being held for another. another who was elsewhere & disconnected
      without any idea where. it’s not even a thought that crosses his
      mind as he lifts his head, loosening his grasp, to be met with connie’s lips.

oh.

      this foreign temptation to hold her close is kicking at him, starting to
      hurt with the urge to, but he refrains. it’s a little bit due to what she’s
      said as his personal image of the man came to mind. matt.

    “y–.. yeah. he,” his voice trails off, shame making a recurrence in one
     fell swoop & snatching any confidence for his gestures away, “i hope
     not either.” there’s a laugh, false, feigned, let out after being
     generated in rashness of the situation. 

     he assumes the lack of emotion is in part of the constant stream of
     questions sent to connie earlier; it’s also what he hopes.