"Alyson?"
I looked up and saw the flicker of shock in Connor's gaze, but I guess I couldn't blame him since I was silently sitting on the steps of the porch of his empty dark house. He stood on the path that slit the front yard in two symmetric pieces and Trevor raised one brow by his side as they both took me in.
Connor's eyes scanned up and down, but not a single muscle of his face moved. "This doesn't look like 'taking care'." he hummed, hinting at our last texts from some hours ago.
Him on the other hand, looked like he'd hold his end of the deal. There wasn't any new bruises at first glance and his knuckle were almost healed, so he hadn't hit anyone recently, must have been to the wager-swaps, then.
I stood slowly, my limbs feeling numb after all this time sitting stiff, and unplugged the earpieces, taking with them the music. My heart still felt heavy, but I hope I wasn't looking as low as I first felt when I left the game. I shifted my weight one foot to the other, part of me wondering if he'd kick me out from showing up without letting him know first.
In my defence, I really needed some comfort after everything, I wasn't in the mood to go home and mourn this horrible feeling on my own, so I told Granny I was staying with Norah and came here to an empty house. Apparently their parents were on another experimental retire, and she was staying at some of her other friends' house. Macy was in that family thing until tomorrow and I really didn't have more plan B. That's what happens when I rustle up. So I decided to wait for Connor instead and see if he takes pity on me, because I really didn't want to be alone at the moment.
Because if I was I would overthink and go over all Brett'd said over and over again and I didn't want to keep crying. Was I really that bad of a friend?
I forced a smile by the time Connor and Trevor reached the porch. "How did it go?"
"And to you?" fired back Connor, seeing right through me and my grin faltered.
Trevor whistled. "Well, looks like I should probably leave you two to it." he nodded my way in acknowledgement. "Alyson." and patted Connor's shoulder, barely a friendly tap, but it didn't fail to see how his muscles tensed a second before relaxing again as Trevor walked down the street towards his own place.
"My parents aren't home." Connor stated, fishing the keys from his pocket as he sidestepped me to the porch and fiddle with them in the lock. "And it's late."
"I-I know." I gulped, tugging the cuffs of the jacket in nerves. "Can I stay a bit?" Can I stay the night? But that felt too bold to ask just like that and too self-inviting.
Connor shrugged, opening the door and pushing it all the way to allow me in as well. I muttered a 'thank you' and walked pass him into the familiar lobby and hearing the door click shut behind us.
Connor turned off the security alarm and I examined him closely the lights. He had the usual dark circles under his eyes, and his knuckles were still a bit purplish from his last fight, but aside from the also usual messy hair, there wasn't anything out of place. He definitely hadn't fought tonight and relief filled me at that confirmation.
He noticed my stare and scowled at me as he guide us further in and up the stairs. "What?"
"You don't like physical contact, do you?" I suddenly blurted thinking back at what just happened with Trevor and he gave a wary look, as if confused and alert at once, I could sense his muscles tensing. Did I hit a sensitive spot? I shrugged, trying to make it less, as if I wasn't dying of curiosity. "You always flinch."
He halted before the closed door of his room. The house was silent. Too silent, making me aware of each breath of his as his hand closed around the knob, but instead of twitching it, he leaned closer, bringing our faces close enough to share the air. "I don't flinch when you touch me."
I blushed, very aware he was trying to get exactly that reaction so I would drop it. "Well... no." he leaned back, his eyes smirking as he finally let us into the room. "But you froze."
Which was true, I hadn't seen him flinch when I touch him, but whenever I made an impulsive move, and hug him or touch his hand out of nowhere he would freeze, as if gathering the will to let it happen, as if gathering himself enough to let it be.
"Does this have something to do with the fights?" I speculated as he kicked off his sneakers, going straight for the wardrobe and leting the skateboard by it.
Maybe he associated touching with hits?
That doesn't even make sense, and he proved me so right away: "No."
'He's been hurt.'
"Then? Why do you flinch? Why would you freeze? You don't like physical contact? Are you-"
"What with the hundred questions?" even as he snapped, there was a raw edge in his voice. Vulnerability?
"I'm just curious. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
And just like that, the hint of vulnerability of whatever it was was erased into the known cold façade.
"I'm fine. Do whatever you want. Touch me, don't... I don't care."
Ouch.
He picked a couple of things from the wardrobe, dark fabric, and slam it shut -almost too aggressive, before storming out the room and towards the bathroom. At this point I knew his routine enough to know he was going to take a shower before anything. It was always the first he did when he came back from his things.
And I also knew him enough to know that, despites being rude and insensitive and making my chest itches, he didn't mean to be. He had felt cornered and when he said that he 'didn't care', indeed he did. So I pushed back the first instinct to just cry or leave and swallowed my bitterness.
This one was on me. As well. I had pushed too much. I had seen he wasn't that willing to open and gave me answers, I knew he was a closed person, and still I kept pushing.
My knees were shaky, tired and emotionally wretched after everything, so I approached the spinning chair by the empty desk and carefully sat on it. Connor was back a few minutes later, his skin clean and his hair slightly damp, changed into pajama trousers and another of his large tees. This one white, surprisingly, and he looked so good on it. Probably the surprise worked against me and for my awe, I could only hope I wasn't too obviously starstruck.
Also, now Connor seemed more relaxed as he dropped the towel in the basket by the door and sent me an unreadable glance before sitting on the bed. So we were face to face, separated by painful feet and the previous argument. Caused for my stupid insistence.
"I'm sorry." I spoke softly. "I didn't mean to pry. I'm just curious. If you don't want to, we don't have to talk about it." I gulped, biting back the sudden urge to tear up.
He brows twitched slightly together, eying me attentively as if seeking something in my face. His breathing deepened and I saw part of the tension leaving his shoulders. I could tell he wasn't that harsh anymore, and his eyes held that soft glint, but still not fully off the coldness of that snap.
"I'm sorry too." he said in a raspy voice. "I didn't mean to snap. It's... a complicated topic."
I knew.
Because he'd been hurt.
In a way that made him cold and picky on people touching him.
But considering how delicate I was feeling on the inside and after everything tonight I wasn't strong enough to dig for more at the moment.
He cleared his throat, more of that rudeness evaporating the more seconds that passed. "What happened?"
It took me a moment to realize he was actually questioning about my sudden appearance and state. Barely opening my lips I shrugged: "Nothing." but it sounded fake to my own ears.
Connor frowned. "Alyson." he shook his head, patting the spot by his side and almost as if on trance I found myself standing and making my way there. The mattress dipped under me as I sit facing him there, close enough to touch; but still not used if I was allowed to with everything. Connor turned so he was facing me as well, one of his hands pressed against the bed for support and the other hung casually on my knee, solving like this the touching problem and I felt heat spread from there. "Even if I decide to believe you, there's the fact that you show up at my doorstep almost in tears in the middle of the night."
"Well, I'm always almost in tears, aren't I?" I tried joking, but the smile didn't reach my eyes and he gave an impassive look, making it dropped as I look down, mesmerized by the fading black polish of his nails and I run my fingertip over them. "It's stupid."
"So?" he questioned and I shrugged one shoulder, unease. Was it really that big of a deal? Was it appropriate to discuss this with Connor? "Did the match ended sooner?"
"I left earlier." I explained, I was barely aware of the hour, I was almost sure the game had already ended, but he must be able to tell I'd been out there for a while already. "Brett..." I hesitate, but then decided that, what the hell? Apparently it had been obvious. "I thought Brett wanted me there as a friend, but apparently this was kind of a date." I begin, unable to look at him in the eye without burning I focused on his hand, fiddling with the rings on his fingers but still suffocating in self-consciousness. "He said it was obvious, that he... wanted to be more." That he liked me, the taste of such a word still felt weird in my tongue. " And when I told him I didn't he..."
"He what?"
I gulped, that stinging sensation back under my eyes. "He said I was being selfish."
Connor snorted. "For not liking him back?"
"For ruining the night for him." I blinked rapidly, my eyes burning more and this time I couldn't prevent the tear to roll down the corner of my eye. "It was an important match, everyone was counting on him to be focused on the game, the scouts were there..." I sniffled, still not daring to look off our hands and repeating in my head what an awful friend I was. Maybe I should have sucked it up? Gently refuse and officially told him what I felt after the match. Yet, he'd been the one that initiated it. "If he doesn't get their approval his future might be compromised."
"How is that your problem?"
"He got me my chance with the USC." and in return I messed his. I didn't even know how the rest of the game went. Did he keep up the good work? Were they impressed? Was he unfocused and blamed me for setting off his mood? He probably did...
"He fucked your scholarship first," snapped Connor instead. "And then got you this to compensate."
"Y-yeah, but I'm still a bad friend."
"No, you're not."
"But what if I am?" I cried, covering my face with my hands and he sighed; pulling me closer. I leaned into him, seeking the comfort. "I didn't mean to hurt him, I d-didn't. I just he acted as if it was all settle already, and w-we've barely started being friends again. I thought... I wanted for us to be like we used to. I thought we could be. And I knew there was something off but w-why would he put such a blame on me if it w-wasn't true?"
"Because he's a sore turn down."
"Connor." I whined turned my head so my forehead pressed his shoulder and his breaths fanned the top of my head when he breathed. I hadn't noticed the moment my legs had come across from his as we sat on the verge of the bed, his arms protectively around me, after a second of hesitation of course; one on my lower back and the other hand massaging my cervicals softly, soothing me easily. "I should have seen it coming."
"You got a soft spot for Ryder," he mumbled in a tight voice, even if his voice sounded detached, there was kind of restraining there, and his hands were sweet on my back. "Always have. As if he could get away with anything."
"He is-"
"Yeah, I know." he cut me, like he didn't want to hear again that we had such a long history on our backs and instead reached out to brush away my tears. A gesture so soft I almost melted as he traced my skin. "I guess I'm... relieved? That you didn't fall for it this time."
This time. Because I'd been letting him push me around and then come back with a few nice words for a while now. I really thought he had changed, but had he really?
In the past, he reacted like this when the whole thing with Jace happen, he assumed something of me, I did something different and then he flipped. Would we go back to how things were in the past. He had been so sweet lately, and I was so blinded by the memory of our friendship. Clean, innocent, familiar... but I guess I was too delusional. I wanted to go back to something after we reached a point of no return and pretend it was all good. I ignored the signs and just went along with my fantasy.
Had I really led Brett on?
"You're good?" his voice was husky and raspy, and I was so close it vibrated through me. I could smell the alluring citric scent, stronger and without the usual smoke since he just showered.
I nodded. "I am now."
I felt his tiny smirk, really close to my ear, his hands traveled slowly down my spine and round my waist so they tucked both sides of the large jacket. "Can we burn this thing now?"
I giggled, remembering he suggested something similar not too long ago. "What's with your sudden firebug tendencies?" but let him slid it off my shoulders and throwing it on the desk chair I was previously sitting in. Chills spread up my bare arms. "You really don't like this jacket, uh?"
"I just hate it on you."
Because it looked awful on me or because he hate me wearing Brett's jersey? There was a spark of almost possessiveness, well, as possessive as Connor could get; so I assumed it was the latest.
"I'm gonna try take that as a compliment, but you're not really making it easy for me." I teased, seeing that humor in his eyes even it didn't manifest and the unsettlement slowly pacify in my guts, not feeling as messed up anymore. Or at least more controlled.
"Are you staying the night?"
I blushed as he gently moved my legs off him and stood, moving towards the wardrobe again. "If that's okay with you."
I didn't want to impose it, but in my mind I was praying that he would be okay with it. He shrugged, throwing me a large cotton shirt and some black joggers. Smiling, I got up with them and moved to the bathroom to change, my head light at the casualness of it all.
The bathroom was still a bit steamy after his shower and I quickly change into the clothes he'd give me, immediately feeling myself getting smaller as they swallowed me. I gulped some of the mouthwash on the first cabinet, the pink one Norah's let me borrow other times. I also washed my faced and finger-combed my hair, examining myself int he mirror. Even with the waist of the joggers rolled a couple times and so with the ankles, they still felt too big, and the shirt as well. But I guess that was the best I could manage.
By the time I come back to his room, Connor's laid on his bed, scrolling through his phone boringly and with a pack of crackers beside his waist. Another midnight snack, I supposed. Was it a coincidence that they were my favorites?
I carefully climbed beside him, seeing then he was playing some game I didn't know; but when he sensed the mattress dipping he looked at me and locked the screen, letting it rest on his chest and moving the crackers to his other side so they wouldn't be in the way. As I slid in place, laying on my side while facing him; we were so close I could feel his body heat and his presence intoxicated me in that amazing way he managed.
I couldn't help myself and peck his cheek, his skin surprisingly smooth and hot, probably from the shower. Jolts of electricity flew from there to my stomach and lowered some more making me weak as his eyes found mine, something undreadable swirled in his.
"Hey." I whispered.
"Hey."
Feeling that as the rush of the day laid down, I was overwhelmed by exhaustion. Now that the previous emotions and stress was finally dying down, I was aware of my own tiredness and how late it was. Has the match against Richmore really been just hours ago? It felt like a whole eternity.
And now I just felt my limps heavy and my mind lazy, completely overwhelmed by those dark pools staring back at my soul. I smiled at him lazily, my heart fluttering as he took me in. "What was that for?" he wondered and I shrugged, resting my head on the pillow.
"Are we watching a movie tonight?"
"If you want to."
"Sure." I giggled, but had to muffle a yawn. "As long as it's not a horror movie."
His hand took mine before I could lower it back to the mattress and brought it closer, his thumb brushing over the dark ring on mine and making it roll. "When are you planing on returning this?"
I grinned softly, nuzzling more against the pillow and closing my fist as if preventing him from actually taking it. "Is 'never' an option?" I giggled, gesturing to my whole attire. "Come on, it adds to it. Can't you see? I'm disguised."
"As?"
"You." And in fact, beside my unmentionables, I was completely dressed fully in his stuff.
Connor didn't smile, but there was this amused hint in his dark eyes that churned my guts. His head tilted, eying me up and down in a way that made my skin crawl and my heart spike. "You make a cuter version."
My face burned. "Smaller."
"That too."
I giggled, nerves and excitement lacing in my guts as I too take him in. The white shirt he had on was refreshing, he usually wore dark stuff, so a light color was new. Also, since the cloth was so clear you could see the general outline of his tattoos through the fabric and I followed them with my eyes, my fingers itching to touch them as well.
"Black really suits you, but I like when you wear white." I confessed tentatively tracing the dark ink half seen through the light fabric and his brows shot up, half amused. My cheeks heated and I hear a buzzing in my ears, but I willed my eyes to remain on his. "So, how did it go for you tonight?"
"I made a couple hundred."
Wow. "Not bad."
"Nothing as dramatic as yours, but well." he taunted and I almost flinched, but instead I rolled my eyes.
"Mock me all you want, at this point I'm aware of how sensitive I am, but so what?" I shifted into a more comfortable position, my knee brushing his and heat spread everywhere. I didn't pull away and Connor didn't either. "I think I feel too much." I confessed not thinking it for the first time. "It's always been like this. Everything is so vivid and I get emotional easily. Or maybe I just cry easily? It's like everything gets under my skin."
Connor hummed, looking up at the ceiling, deep in thought for some moments as I thought out loud, and then muttered: "What if you can't feel?"
"What do you mean?"
"I can't feel."
My heart did a little halt as those words sink into me, but I kept my tone gently: "That's not true... I've seen you getting angry, going soft, getting..." vulnerable, but I bit it down and shook my head instead. That was how people who didn't know him saw him. Cold, insensitive. Unfeeling. But I knew the truth was far from it. "The fact that you conceal it doesn't mean you don't feel it as well."
His brows pinched together, taking his sweet time before deciding to part his lips again.
"I do feel." he conceded after some moments and I held my breath, hanging in the anticipation. Was that all his confession? It felt like there were thousands of thoughts running behind his eyes, but he seemed to struggle to find the best way to let out just what he felt comfortable sharing -and knowing him, that was almost nothing. Yet he surprised me speaking again: "But it's so messed up."
"Why is it messed up?" I could sense the little tic in his jaw as he clenched it, but didn't answer any further, making my curiosity grew. My brows knitted together. "You can tell me. We're friends."
'We're friends'? Some hours ago you told Brett you were kinda together. What I felt was far from being just friends, and yet we still hadn't had that talk yet.
"Friends." Connor scoffed, making my pulse thundered as he turned his face to meet my gaze. "You really wanna know?"
I nodded, gasping in suprise when he suddenly shifted, looming closer, his face barely inches hovering mine and the closeness and the unexpected lack of personal space.
What were we talking about again?
"I-it can't be that bad." I managed out and his head tilted, the tips of his blond locks tickling my cheeks as they fall over his forehead and I buzzed with that still unfamiliar energy we'd been testing lately.
This confusing feeling in the pit of my stomach increased as his gaze shifted to my lips for the split of a second. "You sure?"
"Yes..." but my voice died when I felt his knuckles against my cheek, tracing it slowly, delicately; and using his forefinger under chin to tip it higher. His breath brushed my lips and created a shudder that caressed my spine down, making my unconscious grip around the shirt on his shoulder tightened as I get lost in the dark pools of his eyes.
"You're too naive. You want to see the good in something messed up and deranged from the beginning. That makes you stupid."
And just like that, he leaned back folding one arm under his head and the other casually laying over his stomach, one knee bent and completely careless; as if nothing'd happened. Yet my heart was drumming crazily as I stared him ignoring me altogether.
"Y-you're not deranged." I frowned. "And I'm not stupid."
Connor shrugged, already down with this conversation and this thing twisting in my chest clenched further. Once more I find myself wondering if he was being disrespectful to insult me or because his natural need to be blunt. Not a lot of words he uttered, but when he did, they were mostly rude and insensitive.
'You want to see the good in something messed up and deranged from the beginning.'
I didn't know why that sentence burned through me like acid. Even as harsh as he'd proved to be, there was too an underground within him. Softer. He could be better than what he gave himself credit for. And that saddened me.
So possessed by some unexplainable urge instead of lean down again too, I somehow curled closer to him and hugged his middle cuddling closer. Maybe you are stupid. I could feel his whole form stiffening and the muscles of his chest under my cheek too, completely taken aback.
"I-I don't like when you talk so low about yourself." I stuttered through the awkwardness at my own impulsive movement.
What on earth was I thinking? My embrace briefly tightened all the more in realization of what I was doing, my stomach a whole mess of nerves. Only I found myself in these shameful situations. Self-consciously, I went to pull away; but his hand found my nape, gently pulling my head to lay over his chest once more, making my heart picked up at the firm rhythm of his.
"You know," he spoke, his chest rumbling under me and his hand sliding easily to tangle with the sensitive hair on the back of my head. "I'm having troubles catching sleep."
I blinked, confused at the topic. Yes, I kinda remembered Norah mentioning something like that too the first time I accidentally fall asleep in his room. That he goes to bed the last and was always up first - which might explain his dark circles under his eyes and why he always seemed ready to take a nap anywhere.
"But you sleep in when I was here." I mumbled. "Both times."
"I know." was his only answer, his fingers still trailing through my hair in that mesmerizing way that robbed my sanity.
My lids fell, enjoying the soft caressed of the same bruised hand that could inflict so much damage.
"I'm sorry." he said then, lowly and I open my eyes again, shifting so my head was against his shoulder and arm to meet his eyes. "You're not stupid. I know it seemed like I was saying that, but I wasn't. You're clever."
"Am I?"
He hummed, his fingertips now brushing against my jawline and down the column of my throat. "Naive, but clever. A good friend." his tone made it clear he was wiping any trace of doubt I still held for Brett's harsh judging. Before I could start overthinking his thumb brushed my bottom lip and my already sleepy mind bent with the reality as if it was a piece of sand for him to mold. Connor's mouths's corner twitched upwards. "Sweet and smart."
I became unable to hold his gaze, my face burning and unsure what to do with his attention and words other than muttered a breathless: "Oh, come on."
"And beautiful."
"Stop." I giggled, self-consciously hiding in his neck as the compliments slid under my skin and make my chest feel like it could explode.
"I don't get why you don't see it."
I didn't get how could he see it. I knew I was smart, that much I could be proud of; but more like book smart, logic, I guess. And I knew I wasn't ugly, but beautiful? Come on.
Yet Connor didn't let me hide for long, I felt him rolling and soon I felt the soft pressure of the mattress against my back as I looked up at him. He was using one bent arm to hold his upper body slightly up and hovering mine as his other hand came to rest casually over my hip bone. Head spread from there and through the thin fabric of the shirt, but he barely paid attention to it, as if in fact he didn't even notice where it was. I could feel my stomach bubbling under the pressure of his deep, dark eyes.
"So, you got troubles catching sleep." I retook the previous topic, forcing my mad heart to control its beats without succeeding.
His head tilted to the side once more and he gave a look to let me know he knew what I was doing, but still let me get away with it. "I never got enough." This time when Connor hummed, its vibration travelled through me and made my toes curl. "But turns out the times you've stayed over I've managed several hours of sleep at once."
"What does that mean?" I wondered, my chest fluttering at my own assumptions, but I wanted to hear it from him. That he felt relaxed with me, at peace, safe... whatever it was that allowed him to sleep.
Connor just shook his head, like he couldn't explain it and I smiled. I knew he knew it as well, but it was hard to explain. Like what he did to me.
Impulsively, I opened my arms, but the biggest surprised was that he actually leaned and rested his face on my shoulder, his breaths hot on my neck. Everything in me burned as he adjusted to the new position and his arms came around my waist, sliding too one leg between mine and I hugged him tight.
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QUESTION: Favorite subject?
Wow, double update. I don't usually do this, but I know my updates are inconsistent and since we're reaching the end of the semester I can only hope for time to dedicate to my stories. So I hope I would be able to keep updating, but in case it takes me too long, here you go <33
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