The Dating Deal by Melanie Marks Page A

all was well.  That bugged me.  But maybe he was right.  Maybe the old me would have been like that.  Just caved in.  After all, I used to think Conner was the greatest.  He could do no wrong.  But well, he had proven that theory full of holes.  Pretty continually, lately.
     
    Still, making banana splits after dances had been fun.  And dating Conner had been fun.  Nice.  Most of the time.
     
    Sad to say, the coming-in-and-reliving-old-times bit was actually kinda tempting.  Super tempting, actually.  
     
    “No,” I sighed.  “I’m tired.  I want to go home.”
     
    Conner sounded resigned.  “Okay,” he said, getting out of his car.  “But will you at least think about what I’ve said?”
     
    What did he say?  That he’s sorry?  That he realized he had made a terrible mistake?  Those were all things I had dreamed of hearing from him.  Of course I would think about them.  They just wouldn’t mean as much to me as they once would have.
     
    “Yes,” I said.  “I’ll think about it.”
     
    I watched Conner walk away, still unsure how I felt.  Did I want him back?  Really and truly?  A huge part of me (Stupid!  Stupid!  Stupid!) was still dying to answer, “Yes.”  But another part of me, a calmer, wiser, saner part of me, was saying, “No.”  Our time was over.  It had been special, but not nearly as special as I had once thought.  His actions had proven that.  And it was over. 
     
    Definitely over … I hoped.
     
    I just had to be strong.
     
    But watching Conner, my very first boyfriend, walk away, romantically out of my life forever, left me in tears.  And that’s the way I drove home, bawling my eyes out.  I parked Conner’s car out in front of my house, then ran upstairs to my room.
     
    I flung myself across my bed, and my parents were at my door in record speed, wanting to know what happened.  What had that non-member boy done to me?  Why was I so upset?
     
    I, of course, didn’t want to talk to them.  I wanted to bawl in privacy.  But I couldn’t have them thinking Trent had hurt me, not even for a second. 
     
    “It wasn’t Trent,” I sobbed.  “It was Conner.  We broke up.”
     
    My parents looked at each other quizzically.  After all, Conner and I had broken up over two months ago.  But to me, this night, it was like we had broken up all over again.  Only tonight it was different because I had chose to do it.  Which, of course, was better.  Way better.  But it was still traumatizing, because I couldn’t help it, I still loved him.  Maybe not as much, or the same, but as stupid as it was, I still had deep feelings for him. 
     
    “You mean you had a fight?” Mom asked.
     
    I shook my head, still sobbing.  “No.  Not really.”  I smooshed my face into my pillow.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”
     
    Mom patted my back sympathetically.  Then she gave me a soft kiss on the back of my head.  “We understand,” she said.
     
    Then they left.  Mom and Dad left!  Abandoned me, in my hour of need.
     
    I cried for like, an hour.  But then, I kind of stopped thinking about Conner.  About our past dances.  About our past life.  And I started to think about this dance.  About Trent.  About how much fun we’d had.  And how sweet he was.  And how I’d been gypped out of my good night kiss.
     
    I had an overwhelming urge to talk to him.  Tonight.  As wonderful as the dance had been, I hated the way it ended.  Just thinking about it left my stomach in knots.  Darn Conner!  I wanted to talk to Trent.  Explain better why I had to drive Conner home.  Thank him for taking me to the dance.  And for being so wonderful and thoughtful and kind, and absolutely everything I wanted in a boy.  Except … he wasn’t Mormon.
     
    I rolled over in my bed.  I would never sleep.  Not tonight. 
     
    Trent was like a Mormon.  He was good and kind.  And honest.  He seemed very honest.  And, sure, he used to drink, but