The heavy realization of the situation fell upon me the moment Connor unlocked the front door and we were greeted by an empty dark lobby. Because there wasn't anyone home. And I'd be staying over.
I'd driven to a nice two story house a few blocks from our high school. The walk here hadn't been that long actually, and once we've left that environment on the fabric Connor had relaxed all over again, being less snappy and harsh. Back to normal... or what we could call normal with his kind of personality. He isn't limping anymore, proving what Trevor had mentioned in the car about it being just a bad move rather than a lesion. His lips had swollen, tho, and even if the cut in his brow wasn't bleeding anymore, it looked painful.
So we wandered our way here at our own rhythm, I knew he wouldn't complain so I decided to walk slowly and Connor just adapted to it, letting me babble and ramble about everything and anything. True to our now familiar dynamic. And I was okay with him nodding and making the simplest remarks here and there. But, well, he was interacting at least. Two months ago this would have seemed impossible, yet now here we were.
Connor dropped the keys on the counter at our side and walked in without a second thought, like this wasn't new or weird or anything. And... I guess it wasn't? I'd been here plenty of times, even if it was with Norah. And we were friends so...
"I'm hungry." he suddenly announced as I close the door and the quiet air settled in our bones. Connor shrugged his shoulders back entering the living room, letting his jumpers slid and drop it however as he passed the couch. "Come on."
"Where?" but I followed him into the kitchen and saw him opening drawers and pulling out stuff. He didn't respond my stupid question and I chose to think he hadn't heard it at all seeing how incredibly silly it is to ask such a thing when he literally just said he was hungry.
He'd activated the temperature control system the moment we'd stepped in and the house was already getting warmer, but I still didn't want to get off the large hoodie I'd been lent. I liked it. How it was cozy and softer than it seems. And the smell... Whatever. I just decided to roll up the sleeves and leaned against the door frame as I watched Connor prepare stuff.
"Any suggestion?" he spoke again and I was startled by his voice as he didn't stop moving around gathering stuff.
"I don't know. You're the one hungry." I carefully stepped in as well, stopping at the other end of the table at the center. "Sweet or salty?"
"I don't know, eh..." he took out more and more pink tools. I bit back a smile. These looked odd on him, but seeing Norah's devotion in making deserts at every chance she got it only make sense this stuff was all hers. "What do you dig?"
"Me?" thrown aback at the sudden question it took me a moment to actually think of a proper response. And still all manage to come out was: "Sweet?"
He hummed, still taking things and I saw how he took the sugar too now. "Such as?"
"I don't know..." I examined quickly all the ingredients he'd put out, trying to think of something that won't that long to make. "Cinnamon rolls?"
"You know how to make them?" he asked, actually sounding surprised, but he I shrugged one shoulder, moving towards the sink as he pick the rest of the things we'd be needing for this.
"Norah's done them enough times for me to memorize." I giggled, pulling my hair up in a pony tail and examined our supplies, tracing a mental scheme of what to do.
"Yeah, me too." I saw the tiniest him of smirk tugging his lip as he too washed his hands and met me back on the table in the center of the kitchen.
"So, cinnamon rolls?" I wanted to make sure I wasn't imposing my idea on something he'd wanted first, but Connor just shrugged and passed me the flour as he opened the white sugar and baking powder.
Okay.
I'd indeed seen Norah doing this thousands of times, so I did know the process by heart. Carefully, I slid one of the tea cups closer and poured flour on it till it almost reached it's rim, using it to measure and filled the large bowl between us with two cups.
As Connor entertained himself with the proper powder, sugar and salt I worked on the butter, milk and cinnamon. Finally, he broke one egg and we watched the whole mix pilling at the bowl completely gracelessly.
I purse my lips, "I don't think this is how this is supposed to look."
"Of course not." Conor rolled his eyes, reaching out to grab the plastic whisk. "We need to mix it."
"I know that." I blushed at his duh tone. I was aware of that, but when Norah did it it all seemed so clean and easy, we barely started anything and the table and our hands were already getting messy. "Do you wanna mix it?"
"Do you?"
"Not really."
"Well, it's this or prepare the platter." he rose his brows and I eyed the large baking dish. Considering how uncoordianted I was, having me manhandling the cristal item didn't sound like such an amazing perspective. Besides, his knuckles were a little raw after tonight, and I couldn't be sure if the pressure of mixing this would hurt him more.
"Yeah, okay." I took the pink tool from Connor's hand, my heart halting when I accidentally brushed our skins. It took everything in me not to shiver and instead I grinned. "I'll whisk."
He shrugged, moving towards the oven to preheat it, took the baking dish and melted the some butter to cover its insides.
This is insane, I thought to myself, beginning to struggle with the dough. Making cinnamon rolls with Connor as a midnight snack. I wasn't sure what was stranger, this or me going to the fights.
And the worst was that I was actually sucking at it already. We'd put too many solid things and too little liquid, so the mix wouldn't thaw together. Huffing in frustration I struggled more, but it still didn't work and I was getting hot in effort. Maybe we should had start mixing things one at a time, flour with the egg, then the milk and slowly adding more ingredients. Now it was a weird, lumpy dough and I blushed when Connor smirked to himself noticing my struggle.
Why am I always putting myself in shame?
"Shut up." I whispered even if he hadn't really spoken, it was written all over his face... well, Connor's style.
The whisk got stuck mid-movement and I almost spill the content out the bowl, some flour-egg-fussion tainting the counter.
"Need help?" my face heated all the more at his evident amusement.
"No." IÂ stepped back, suffocating now in the hoodie and slid it off, carefully not to dirty it but firmly, as if to prove a point. Yet, it was as if I was just hilarious to him and that humored glint was there when he glanced up from the dish and our eyes met a second before he went back to work.
Get a damn grip. I took off my own sweater too, now that the heater had finally acclimated the place and the oven was also working -not to mention the physical fight I was currently having with the food- I was feeling rather hot and rolled up the sleeves of my shirt. Then I took the whisk once more, determined this time and carefully find a proper way to.
"It looks so easy when Norah does it." I chuckled when more of that dough dripped to the counter. "I'm making such a mess."
"Yes."
"Hey!" I whipped my head up in time to see him dropping the baking dish he just finished and rose his brows as I pouted my lips. "Alright, I know. I just didn't expect you to agree. You should be telling me how good I'm doing. You know, positive support and all that." but as if wanting to prove me wrong, fate made me spill some more of the dough. Only now that I was succeeding in mixing it righ, it was more fluid and sticky. We both glance down at it. Why? Connor pressed his lips together, containing a smile and my face heated. "Shut up."
"You're doing good."
I glared at his mock and stepped aside when he reached out to take the bowl from me, settling out of arms reach from him and going back to it. It was a matter of pride now. "I got this."
He hummed, taking a seat on the stood by it completely unbothered and leaned his head on his arms, closing his eyes and his shoulders untensed a little. I faltered a second, noticing once more all the bruises from tonight. The eyebrow didn't look that bad now, but his lips had a crack that made my stomach do the weirdest jumps.
"How are you?"
"Fine."
"Are you really?" no reply here. I sighed. "How much did you make tonight?" the question was out before I could fully process it, and he opened one eye. I gulped. "I'm sorry, am I being noisy? I don't mean to pry. It's just... You don't look fine. Not too bad either, but a little roughed up. But still it must hurt. I'm just wondering if it's worth it-"
"One." he said and I halted my nervous ramble, eying him through my lashed, but put careful care in keep mixing the dough.
"One what?"
"One grand."
My jaw dropped and I almost spilled the mass out the bowl again. "You made one grand in a ten minute fight?"
"Odds were against me so people people bet against." he shrugged, but there was a proud, smug hint in the way his facial muscles shifted lightly.
"It's, um... it's impressive. Really. But still too dangerous."
Connor rolled his eyes, sitting up once more and pulling hi head up from his arms, tilting his head so his neck cracked and rolling his shoulders lazily. "The whole point of this was to prove that wrong."
"Well, you failed." he frowned and I grinned, softening the small tension of our disagreement. "Hey, you smell it yet? The cinnamon..." I sniffled the air, the smell truly mouth watering. The dough finally looked decent enough, solid enough to mold.
Connor had prepared the work surface with flour and so I carefully poured the mass there, but took the rolling pin from him as he tried to use. He didn't like that very much. "What now?"
"I'll do it. You're hurt." I involuntarily glanced down at his row knucles again, but he rolled his eyes.
"I'm fine." he insisted for the umpteenth time, and he probably was right. But I still got this quirky feeling inside so I shook my head and took the rolling pin either way.
"You keep saying that, but I'm sure that would be your answer whether or nor it's true. Am I right?" there was no answer on his part and so I ironically got mine from the silence. "Just what I thought." I mumbled spreading the dough in a proportional layer of an inch, all even and then brushed the remaining melted butter from where he'd prepared the baking dish on the surface. "Are you really fine? Because it would be all right to be hurt too, you know? I know I would be."
Instead of responding, he detached from the counter to get to the fridge and took out a beer can. "Want one?" I shook my head, getting the knife and carefully cut the dough in lines. "You never drink." he suddenly pointed out coming back to his previous spot.
I glanced up, surprised, he wasn't someone to purposely pry into something. Most of the time it looks like nothing matter to him, actually, so him actually asking -well, kinda- something was shocking to say at least.
"Um, yeah..." I pushed the pony tail off my shoulder with the back of my hand and once more started cutting the dough, trying my best to be casual and light about this when inside I felt my heart tightening. "My parents-" I started, but a ball of emotion forced me to clear my throat and began again. "My parents were mowed out the road by a drunk driver, you know?" I confessed lowly. "It kinda freaks me out to think I might loose senses, or be too slow and caused something I won't be able to control."
He nodded once, understanding. "A sip won't kill anyone." he pointed out nonchalantly. "And you're not driving tonight."
He handed me the beer and I took it, heavy in my hand as I looked down at it while he casually took one of the lines of dough and poured sugar and cinnamon over it before carefully start rolling it. I chuckled nervously. "Is this peer pressure?"
"No."
I nodded, hesitating. One sip. No one's life was in danger here. But I'd seen what alcohol does to people. How they get twisted, they lose sense of reality. How they get messed. I let the can on the counter. "I am strongly against it." it came out as a whisper and I bit my lip. What kind of teenager was I? I sounded more like my Granny. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." he straightened from hovering the counter and rose the little cinnamon roll, looking almost content as he put it in the dish and moved to take another line and repeat the process. "I like that about you."
"That I don't drink?" but I was already blushing just thinking that he might like any part of me.
"That you stood for your beliefs." my brows rose, not having expected an actual compliment and he even proceed: "No alcohol, no violence, no meat." he shook his head with a scoff, putting away his second roll and going for another. "It's annoying as fuck, tho."
"Because I don't fight back."
"Exactly. Too sensitive."
I pouted, aware he was purposely pushing my buttons, but instead of proving how sensitive I was indeed I turned away from him and to the table, taking too one line and pouring sugar and cinnamon on it.
"I'll let you know there are multiple ways of being combative."
I saw his brows perking from the corner of my eye. "And what is yours?"
Good question. I wasn't belligerent at all. I avoid all kinds of confrontation, to the point I allowed myself to be put down for years. I hate fights. And he knew. And he hated that about me, he made it quite noticeable at every chance it presents. "I'm not as weak as you make me out to be."
Connor scoffed, blowing some of my precarious temperance. But instead of mockery his voice came out almost soft. "I literally just say I like you standing for your convictions."
Right. Was that his way of complimenting? Hard to tell. Instead of putting myself in the complicated stance of judging it and coming out wrong, I decided to brush it off with a shrug.
"What I mean is that I've seen enough drunk people embarrassing themselves and unaware of their surroundings to know that's not something I want to put myself through. I-I'm not judging you." I quickly added, putting the roll away and taking a new file as we fell into that easy dynamic. "I'm aware everyone gets wasted from time to time, it's just that I don't want to. I can't see it being safe or fun if I allowed myself to be such a mess in public."
"A mess?"
My heart rushed at his low voice and I quickly rushed. "Not that you are, of course. You've barely had a couple beers, but look how was Trevor. Or Brett, the day we picked him. It brings out the worst in oneself. You're barely spiked, tho. More talkative, for sure." I suddenly realized and peered up at him at the same time he did. "Right, you are way more talkative." I grinned at his slight frown, as if he too realized just that. "Maybe that's the beer's effect already."
"Or maybe I'm just comfortable."
Comfortable. As in being in his turf, or as in with me? Whatever the case was, the way his eyes bored into mine make something warm spread in my chest like melted honey and I had to drop my gaze first, biting on my "Maybe."
We finish preparing the rolls and he put them in the pre-heated oven. When we got here I wasn't hungry, but now having been working with the aliments and with the smell and all I felt my stomach waking up, stirring in hunger since it was really late and we hadn't had anything for diner yet. Cinnamon rolls suddenly sounded like an amazing idea.
"There." Connor shut the oven and leaned back, resting his elbows on the counter by my side, making me buzz hyper aware of the nearness as he reached for the beer can once more and took another sip. "Now the wait."
I nodded, "Twenty minutes?" I repeat what I remembered from Norah's instructions, but he shrugged. "Okay." I shifted in my spot, my arm burning at the heat of his only an inch away. Now that we weren't doing anything, I realized once more I would be staying. He invited me to stay. I tried to peak a glance at him, secretively, but he caught me as if sensing my gaze and my cheeks burned helplessly. "So, wanna watch a movie?" I immediately cursed at my own burst remembering the last time we watched a movie together I ended up pretty freaked out at the horror show we pick. "Not a scary one this time. And before you complain," I rushed seeing his brows raising. "You fell asleep on the last one, so I think it's fair that I pick it this time."
"You pick it last time too."
"Well, y-yes. But you chose the section." I pointed my finger at him. "How about I chose a section and you pick one?"
"I really don't want to see My Little Pony." he deadpanned and my eyes grew wide in shock and embarrassment.
"I wasn't going to pick that."
"The Barbie?"
"Connor."
"I know no movie by that name."
I huffed, part of me amused by his weird sense of humor, but another growing flustered. I pushed off the counter, my chest a wobbling mess. "Aren't you hilarious? Beer's effects are definitely making an appearance."
He smirked, putting the now empty can on the table and pushed off the counter as well, and walking pass me. "Let's go."
"Where?" but I followed him either way up the stairs and into his now familiar room. The rest of the house was so silent, damn silent. It was so weird seeing this was always filled with movement. I entered the room too and noticed it was messier than usual, the blankets on the bed slightly wrinkled and the few pieces of clothes spread around the floor. He balled them carelessly and threw them in the laundry basket by the door. I wish cleaning my room was as easy. "So," I cleared my throat. "Where are your parents?"
"Business trip. They're coming back tomorrow."
Business trip. That was what Norah said they made up whenever they try to make amends to their relationship. Business trip means new couple therapy. I knew Connor knew as well, but seeing how he always reacted at the mentioning of the possibility of a divorce I just nodded and went along with it.
"I can lend you something."
"Uh?" I turned to him, surprised as I saw him going through his closet and picking some stuff laying it over his shoulder.
"To change into." he shrugged, taking too a towel with on hand and closed the wardrobe as he tossed me some large clothes with his other. "I'm going to shower. Use them or not. I don't care."
I gawked at his rude remark. Back to this? Really? But even if Connor kept his impassive expression at my dropped jaw, he sent me a wink and something squirmed in my rib cage. But he didn't stay longer after that and moved to the hallway.
So confusing...
I unfold the clothes and noticed it was one of his large T-shirts. But considering it was meant to be oversized for him, it was just huge for me. The other was a sweatpants, but I wasn't that confident about this. I carefully exited the room, noticing the closed door at the other end of the hallway and the sound of water going. Trying not to blush at the thought of Connor showering in there I moved to Norah's room, a way more known place that I immediately felt at ease at.
The known pink wall and glittery stuff felt more welcoming that his void room and I pressed the door shut behind me with my back, sliding out my phone.
ALYSON: hey, I get that you're busy now, but when you read this: Im staying at your place and I really need to steal you some clothes to sleep in. Just letting you know
There. I hope that would be enough to avoid the startled-mocking-shocked reaction I get that first time I went with him to the wager-swaps and ended.I was also hoping she was either sleeping already or too entertained with Macy and would read it in the morning. But instead I saw her get online and a second after the double check turned blue she started calling me.
"Shoot." I muttered, taking a second to gather my thoughts and slowly slid the green button. "Aren't you sleep already?"
"Aren't you?" Norah shot back with a chuckle. "Have you gone out with Connor again?"
There wasn't betrayal in her tone like I'd fear, more like surprise and bafflement. "Yes."
"And now you're staying over?"
"Yes?"
She laughed in my ear, "You are, like, the weirdest friendship I'd ever seen. You're polar opposites!"
"So are you and M!"
"Are you really comparing you to us? Is this how this is going?" I blushed deeply at the sudden slip and the amusement in her tone. "Oh, holly skittles, please don't tell me you have a thing for my brother."
"Shhhh." I hushed glancing around as if he would hear her even if he was across the hallway. My ears burned and I heard a buzzing. "It's not like that."
"Isn't it?" she didn't sound like she was believing me, but then I noticed too she was whimpering as well. "What is it like then?"
"We're friends."
"Riiight. Conny isn't one to get cozy and warm, and you can hardly deal with bad words, so let me doubt this 'friendship' is something that comes that naturally."
Yeah, she was kinda right; but surprisingly, even with how different we were and how much we collided, I felt like Connor was one of the few people that could have my back no matter what. Like he could get me in a way not many could. In a way I wasn't even sure Macy and Norah did, and so maybe that was why I was struggling to understand this connection that was messing with me lately.
"So," I clear my throat, too confused with my own thoughts to even begin to explain them to Nors. "Are you with M? Why are you whispering?"
"Why are you?" she shot back and I blushed, evening my tone before answering.
"I don't know. So?"
"M's sleep now. I was about to but I just saw your text and need to check out on you."
"Oh-"
"So you're staying there? My parent's aren't home."
"I know." I pushed away from the door and moved to her wardrobe by the desk. "It's all been so rushed I had nothing to sleep with. Connor's given me something, but..."
"You're too freakishly small for it?"
I blushed. "Whatever. Can I borrow some pants?"
"Just pants?"
"I got his shirt."
"Oh my God. This is so fetch!"
"Norah!"
"I'm gonna need a pic of it." she chuckled muffledly and I groaned, self-consciously.
"Can I borrow something or what?" my fingers ghosted over the drawers, waiting for her permission.
"You know where everything is, be my guest."
"Thanks." I opened it and had to dig a little through glittering pajamas before I could fish a pair of soft orange yoga pants. Of course she wouldn't have anything simple. Don't mind it, it's stylish, I thought to myself while changing into them carefully keeping the phone between my shoulder and ear. Norah was taller than me and her size was one more than mine, but the elastic fabric of the yoga pants make them fit just fine. I would be self conscious about such an attire, but the huge shirt Connor's shirt is large enough to cover almost to my knees.
"And that pic?" teased Norah as I once more took the phone in my ear and twirled before the wall mirror. I look ridiculous.
I scoffed, letting my hair down and hoping I look less of a mess like this, but she was right. I was indeed so freakishly petite. And this only made it more evident.
"There no way I'm letting you see me like this. It's bad enough that Connor is."
"I bet you look cute."
I giggled. "You shouldn't put money on that."
"Whatever. So do you have a crush on Conny or not? You've never answered that one."
"Norah."
"Is that a yes?" I was about to say absolutely not, but for some reason words got stuck in my throat and she laughed bitterly on the other . "I'm gonna take that as a yes."
"I don't know, okay?" I hissed, again glancing towards the door as if he could burst in at any given second and point at me for hearing such a confession. At the same time, I couldn't fail to notice the undertone in her voice. "Does it bother you?"
"No. Well... I mean, no?"
I laughed nervously. "Thanks for making it so clear, Nors."
"I mean, I like that you're friends, don't get me wrong. I don't quite understand it, but I like it. And still, I'm a little jealous?" she chuckled, again with that bitterness under it. "He'd barely talked to me over the past week and even for him, that's been a bit too much. I was thinking our parents' situation was getting into him, but he wouldn't talk. I'm glad you're there for him."
A sense of guilt clenched my chest at her tone. There for him... Connor was there for me, all the times I'd needed someone. But me there for him? It felt like I was being kept at arms lenght when things turned that way between us and he made sure distance was established again.
"I really don't want you to be uncomfortable about this."
"I'm not." and just like that she was back to her usual cheerful tone. "Really. Have fun there, I know for sure I will, here."
"So I take this as in the date went well, uh?"
"The date went perfect, Alyson. You got no clue." there were muffling sounds in the background and after a second of silence she whispered. "Macy-bu is stirring awake so I'll tell you everything tomorrow, yes?"
"You better."
"Whatever. And have fun with Conny."
I analyzed myself over and over after she hung up, pressing my lips together at the huge odd outfit. I looked like a kid playing grown up and I seemed even more petite that I actually was. Rolling the fists up to my wrist so the sleeves fall past the tips of my fingers, I told myself this was the best I could get. I usually sleep in my father's shirt and that was big too. But well, Connor was taller and Norah's orange pants only make me feel more unlike myself.
"Just deal with it, damn." I gritted myself finally toring my gaze from the mirror and after a last encouraging breath I abandoned Norah's safe room.
The hallway was still as silent, only filled with the water running from the other end of it. For some stupid reason I found myself smiling at the realization Connor was one to take long showers. I wouldn't have guessed. But good for me. It gave me time to make it to his room and prepared myself and my thoughts.
A crush. Did I have a crush on Connor?
I carefully sat on the hem of the bed. The heater had finally warmed up all the house and the pleasant heat and sudden rush of thoughts brought a warmth up my neck.
We were friends. That much I was somehow sure. Despites being opposites and all, depite his reluctance to let me in, by now that was quite an undeniable fact. But a crush?
I didn't know.
The most baffling feeling was not being able to tell. Or be too scared to admit it. There was something there, for sure. I'd been aware of how I seek his company, of how it affect me, of the fluttering feeling in the pit of my stomach when I was with him or how my skin prickle whenever he touched me.
And he hugged me. I smiled to myself at the memory. He hugged me and invited me over tonight. Not only to the fight, but to stay as well.
Letting out a flustered huff, I let myself feel backwards against the bed and was almost swallowed by it. Jeez, I'd forgotten his mattress were this soft. I love it. I brought my socker-clad feet up and used them to slide further into it, loving how it molded to my figure and cocooned me there. Tiredness soaked my muscles, making me aware it was indeed way later than what I usually stay up. And this was so calming, so warm, the known citric scent engulfed me luring me into-
"Make yourself home, why not?"
I snapped my eyes open at his sudden voice -I haven't noticed I'd closed them- and saw him entering the room straight to the wardrobe once more, this time he was wearing baggy dark joggers and a grey, large shirt with a Linkin Park's album cover printed on it, as he wildly brushed his hair dry with the towel.
I couldn't help but look, still confused at what I was feeling. Was I really crushing for him? For Connor? Norah's brother? Asocial, cold, rude brother? My stomach twitched. No. But to my friend Connor? The one strong, loyal and sweet in his own way?
This churning only got stronger as I watched him pull open the drawer and shuffled through it. His slightly damp locks fell over his forehead and neck, sticking to his skin and making the collar of his shirt turned darker with the drops. He looked genuinely relaxed for the first time all night. He wasn't even frowning and his features looked almost-
His head turned, catching my eye and I quickly snapped mine forward, glaring the ceiling as my face burned and my heart doubled its pace.
"Not my fault your bed is so comfortable." I commented lacing my fingers over my stomach for protection, hopping he wasn't seeing the red in my cheeks. "Like, really. Mine isn't. I mean, it's good, I guess, average. For a bed. But yours is something else... I would never wake up in time if I get to sleep here-"
"You already have." a shadow blocked the light and I twisted my head to see his figure standing beside the bed, blocking the lightbulb as his stern gaze pinned me there making my heart pound harshly.
"Uh?"
"You fell asleep. Watching a movie."
"Oh, right." that horrible horror movie. I pushed myself into a seating position once more with a sheepish giggle as I felt his stare in my back. "To be fair, you fell asleep first." I could almost imagine him shrugging and I heard the closet door being closed and the mattress dipped behind when he laid there. I could feel his warm. Close, but not too much. I turned slowly, with my heart in my throat and find that there were a good ten inches between his legs and mine as I pulled them to my chest and watched his eye lids dropping. I gulped. "Are you tired?"
He lightly shook his head, not opening his eyes. "Hungry."
I grinned a little. Right. And also the cinnamon scent was somehow making its way from the oven, the little fix won't take much longer to be ready and I too felt my stomach protesting at the aching there. But while it takes... After a moment of hesitation, I carefully laid too on my side, folding my arm under my head and retreating the other to my chest, careful not to touch him as we lay not so far in the mattress.
His eyes opened then, tilting his head on the pillow and I meet his eyes, feeling that clenching in my heart again.
"Are you tired?" he asked and I shook my head, watching as he dropped his lids again and pressed his forearm over his eyes.
His shirt had rolled up a little and there was a thin line of skin showing on his abdomen and I got mesmerized at the way his chest raised and fall with his steady breathings. Once more, I took in how calmed he looked, it must be the after shower effects. For the first time since they pick me up in that awesome car he allowed himself to fully lowered his guard. And he was letting me witness it, be a part of the little bubble-
"I can feel you staring." he muttered, making my heart somersault.
"Sorry. Can't help it." and I blushed at my own words. "I-I mean, I'm checking on your cuts." his arms lowered to his side but he kept his eyes closed and didn't comment. I moistured my lips and tried again. "Are you okay? I know you've said you are, but maybe you could put on a band ait over it? Or clean it, or..." it ended with a harsh intake of breath as I felt his hand on mine. Fire exploded under my skin at the sudden touch, making me weak.
But of course he wasn't having a random moment of coziness. No. This was Connor. Without much more ceremony, he raised it closer to him and as one hand grabbed my wrist softly, his other slid his rings off my finger.
Oh, right. I was still wearing those. Butterflies eat me from inside as he kept his gentle hold on my wrist and move to retrieve the black one I got on my thumb.
I pouted, instinctively fisting my fingers. "Are you sure I can't keep them? Just now. I'll give them back tomorrow." I was expecting him to rip it out in annoyance, but Connor shrugged and let go of me.
There was a pinch of longing for the lost of his touch, but I forced it down and cradled my hand closer, examining it and how that black ring fit. Don't ask me why, but there was something almost alluring with the thought of the size difference and how cute it looked in my thumb since I couldn't wear it anywhere else.
I glanced pass it and surprised myself when I saw him looking down at it as well. Was he regretting it already? With my heart up my throat I carefully lowered my hand on the mattress once more and his eyes met mine.
"I've just talked to Norah." I informed out of nowhere, taking in his expression but not a single muscle twitched. "She mentioned you were being distant. More than usual." this time he shrugged. Not exactly an answer either. "She's worried."
"She's annoying." he spoke lowly, not dropping my gaze and I felt like there was being a pull the longer this eyes contact stretched. "I just want to be left alone."
That didn't actually surprise me. Such a Connor way to go. But then... "Why did you invite me, then?"
This time his brows pursed slightly, his fingers twitched against the mattress and wordlessly, he turned to lay upwards once more, glaring the ceiling.
My chest clenched, thinking the worst. I always seemed to think the worst. And still, the evidences were there; he defended me, comforted me, and even if he didn't want to admit it, he must want me around. At least a part of him must.
"You know what," I too looked up, babbling as I always do to get rid of this slight tension not wanting him to feel uncomfortable and retreat back to himself. Or to fell conscious of the situation and decided he indeed wanted to be left alone. "Your room is amazingly empty. I don't know if it's because you're incredibly neat and organized or because you don't care enough to have things and therefor there nothing disturbing." I glanced around. The empty desk, the plain shelves... I giggled to myself. "I bet everything important is in the locker, isn't it? That and the wardrobe seemed to be where everything is." I turned toward him just in time to see him shrugging. "To be fair, you don't even have your text books." my brows knitted together. "Actually, you never even study."
"I have a sharp memory." he shrugged again, completely unbothered. "Total recall of every detail."
"Really?" I muttered, curious now. "All details?"
He nodded. "They call it photographic memory."
"Wow... That's impressive." but apparently not to him. I was in awe, tho. "So if I asked you anything, about anything. You will remember?" he shrugged. "Like, I don't know... what were you wearing on your first day at school?"
"Black."
A laugh escaped my throat and the side of his mouth twitched too. "Well, I could also have told you that." at my comment he turned to face me as well. Close, so close... I had to remind myself to speak again while maintaining his dark gaze. "Too easy. What about what I was wearing? I give you a tour, remember? What was I wearing?"
He hummed. "Jeans, a black T with starts and a flanel shirt laced on your waist." Damn, he was sharp indeed. I didn't even remember, but now that he spoke it memories came back. "But you got to change midday because someone poured milk on the star shirt."
Right, Jade did. And then acted like it was a mistake, but her malicious eyes told me otherwise.
"Uh, yeah..." I twitched the duvet awkwardly. "I love that shirt. Those weren't 'stars', by the way. That was Leo."
"Who?"
"The constallation? It's my sign. From the zodiac." I explained and he scoffed a laugh, taking me aback but melting me at the easy yet short sound.
"Didn't peg you for someone who actually believes in horoscope."
I blushed. "I don't, it's mostly out of irony."
"Sure."
"Well, whatever. I don't believe in such things, but I like them. I know it doesn't make sense, but it does to me so that's it. It's not something logic but..." I shook my head, as I saw him concealing a smirk at my expense. "Whatever. You got no right to judge me."
"You judge me all the time over the things I do."
"W-what? N-no. You mean the fights and that? I'm against it, and I don't like you getting involved with that, but not because I'm judging you for it. It's because I'm worried you'll get hurt."
"Worried." he scoffed, but instead of harsh it sounded entirely different. Almost endearing and my heart halted when he suddenly raised his hand and let his fingertips traced the line of my cheekbone and jaw, leaving a hot trail of tingles. "You know what I thought about you when we met?" there was no way I would be able to speak right now, too overwhelmed. His eyes traced the path of his hand before meeting mine and making something within me twitched savagely. "I thought you were so fucking cute." if someone could melt that would be the exact way to describe how those words hit me. "But too gullible."
"G-gullible? How?" he sent me a look as if saying 'Are you really asking?' but didn't respond. His hand slid down the curb of my neck and fell to the mattress between us and across mine, that was also there. He didn't move it, tho. And neither did I, looking down at it, wondering if that count as holding hands and if he could feel my mad pulse. And my word vomit hit again: " I thought you were quite intimidating. I was a little scared."
"I remember." Connor too was looking at our hands.
His fingers twitched as if retrieving. No. I shift mine, slightly turning it so my palm was fully facing-up against his and after a long second he finally laid his over mine again. His fingers lightly grazing mine, but closing around them rather than intertwining. Yet my heart still nearly explodes nonetheless.
"You went straight to Nors." Connor spoke again, the bitter background hidden there got nothing on the almost sweet contact. "Everyone does."
"That's only the first impression. I like you now." but he was already shutting down. His jaw set and he looked away from me, but I tightened my hold on his hand even if he made no move to pull away.
"Whatever. I don't need people around all the time."
"Is that it or it's what you tell yourself?"
Before he could even answer, if he even was going to, we heard the alarm of the oven went off downstairs and he swiftly got off the bed, surprisingly holding out his hand to help me out as well.
"Why did you invite me tonight?" I asked again. "Really."
"Your presence is calming." he surprised me by answering truthfully. "You're always soft, and serene... it's what you transmit to people."
"Other people in general?"
He shook his head. "Me. You make me soft."
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QUESTION: Favorite fictional character (from movies, shows, books...)?
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