THREE WAYS YOU KNOW YOUâRE IN LOVE (2) â CB98
an: i had too much fun with the text parts sorry đ how many things can happen in one chapter challenge go go go go LOLLL this was really fun to write i love writing connor as a loser. please enjoy i put love into this :D also lightly edited please forgive any mistakes <3
notes: can i make modern references? or is that cringe? i canât not add them though thatâs literally how frankconnor interact đŤŠ
song: last night i realized i was in love with you by joshua sloane so good for this part!!
The second time wasnât much of a realization, but more of a confirmation. It was cataclysmic at best.
October passed just as quickly as leaves fell from trees the second the weather changed. Gone were the Halloween decorations littered around the city, on doorsteps, and hanging from office windows. The talks of an âepic Halloweekendâ youâd heard passing by groups of college students on your way to work were nothing but a whisper of past memories.
Then November came crisp and barren, frightfully chilly. Leaves cluttered the streets, skyâs often gray with the promise of rain. It was dreary but it was comforting. The calm before the storm that came with December. To you, November was rather underrated. It was prime football season, there was hockey on almost every night and what was better than Thanksgiving with a side of sports? Not much.
December came quietly as it always did as an adult. With the haze of October and November, December was half a thought and a pain in the ass by the time it arrived.
Unless you liked gift giving, then it was your month to shine. By now, you were months too late on buying gifts for your loved and so was every other person in the city.
Weekday evenings stores and streets were crowded with hustling moms darting in between stores, the weight of the world (their kids disappointment) on their shoulders. Dadâs strolling leisurely, phones in one hand, lists in pockets and not a clue what to do. Teenagers walking side by side, their excited chatter and carefree laughter carried through the busy streets.
Weekends were a whole other ordeal.
Getting anywhere on time? Forget about it.
Streets were lined with cars and buses, streetlights more of a mere suggestion than a federal law. Sidewalks were packed and somehow tourists always stuck out like sore thumbs. Panicked glances up and down at their phones, stopping mid walk clogging up the sidewalk.
They looked like poor little fawns searching for their mothers. Any other month, it wouldâve been sweet to see. You remembered first moving to the city, being wowed by its grandiosity and also immensely intimidated by how big it was and how small you were.
It wasnât hard to fall into the feeling of being small. Everyone looked like they had it together, like they belonged.
You? That felt further from the truth at the time. You were one big building away from sitting on the corner of the street and bawling your eyes out because maybe this was the wrong move. That Chicago wasnât for you.
You held it together but inside? You were a mess. It worked itself out, though, as familiarity seeped into your bones. Your routine. A few weeks in and Chicago felt like home, the thought of leaving was unbearable.
Now you looked at tourists fondly and maybe a bit irritably. You understood Chicago was beautiful and it was hard not to feel wowed. It did not mean you had to talk as loudly as possible and stop in the middle of the sidewalk. Vacation made people lose all sense.
Zig-zagging your way through people, you were on a mission. Said mission was your couch, a holiday movie, and unfortunately, an unfinished report or two that were in dire need of getting done.
Things could've been worse though, you could've been stuck in your cubicle clocking in overtime while looking out the window and yearning to go home.
Fortunately enough for you, the one thing your boss cared enough about was making sure none of you stayed in the office over your allocated hours. Payroll was sacrilegious to him, he didnât want any of you over your set hours for the week.
You were convinced he was cutting the hours you were clocked in for anyways, but that was a problem for future you to stress over.
Whatever was going on behind the scenes, you didnât care. You got to finish up the last bit of work in the comfort of your apartment with a glass of wine. That sounded better than anything.
Your apartment wasnât far from your office, but it wasnât quite in the heart of the city. It was in this perfect sweet spot. You could walk almost anywhere and it was far enough from downtown that it was marginally quieter. It was perfect, your little oasis.
Becca didnât live far from you either although she lived in much better quality. A beautiful Victorian brownstone was her home, envy coursed through you just thinking about it.
It was a perfect mix of that classic historical elegance and modern touches that elevated the space. Courtesy of her parents as a graduation gift, the brownstone fell under her ownership.
Her parents were rich like that, casually gifting their daughter a brownstone and monthly allowance that blew your mind when she first told you how much it was.
It was a wonder why she even worked in the first place. Wealth like that was generational, she could afford to do nothing the rest of her life and still pass down money that would fund the family for many more generations.
She wasnât snobbish though, much to your dismay. Becca was perfect and it was a little unfair. She was kind and beautiful and had a brain that rivaled Einsteins. You were just lucky to call her your best friend.
Right now, your heart really yearned for cocktails and gossip on her back patio, but duty called and she was probably busy working on her master's thesis.
The journey from the sidewalk to your front door was a blur, all you remembered was sidestepping dog shit on the walkway and then you were magically home.
Some days just called for a dissociative walk home.
Shrugging your purse and jacket off, you made quick work of discarding your shoes as you made a beeline for your bedroom.
You were a hurricane of movements; clothes off and thrown about your room, one towel fitted around you, the other over your shoulder, hair maneuvered up into a high bun in a fluid movement that felt like second nature.
The last thing you wanted to do was shower, but a piece of your brain held onto the superstition of washing off any bad feelings, motives, energy from the work day prior.
You didnât really believe it worked but on days you saved showers for in the morning, unfortunate things followed suit. So maybe you were just a little convinced the shower acted as a spiritual cleanse to ward off bad energy⌠if it worked, it worked.
You showered like a well-oiled machine, a routine you had done hundreds of times with the siren call of your couch beckoning at you. It always worked. Friday showers were always your shortest.
By the time you got out of the shower, the sun was fully set, your apartment cast in red, white, and green colors courtesy of the Christmas tree and lights you had strung up all over the place.
If December was good for anything, it was an excuse to have all sorts of fairy lights strung up around your apartment. It made the space feel brighter than it usually was, but maybe you were just a sucker for ambient lighting.
Dinner was cold pizza and healthy, heaping side of wine. A grand, beautiful start to your weekend in your twenties.
Love, Actually played for the hundredth time on your TV, it was tried and true and arguably one of the best Christmas movies to exist. Others would argue it wasnât even a Christmas movie, but they didnât know what they were talking about.
Laptop in your lap, wineglass sat on your coffee table, the only thing that put a damper on your otherwise perfect night was the excel spreadsheet you couldnât figure out.
You were halfway set on giving up, but you really couldnât. It was that or accepting defeat and sending this off for one of your other, more competent co-workers to finish it.
That would be ideal, if everyone wasnât equally as stumped and swamped as you. So, it was either you figured it out or you figured it out.
Sighing, you made work of what you could.
You were five minutes away from pulling your hair out before it just clicked. What you were missing, what was going wrong.
Five minutes later, your numbers were right and congruent with the information necessary for the report.
A week or so overdue, but it was done and Jim couldnât complain about that now could he? You couldnât stop the tears that welled up when you pressed save and submit.
Two weeks of trial and error. Of staring at your screen for hours wondering how you got here, if you really liked your job, and how financially devastating it would be for you if you quit.
But you had done it, gotten over the hump.
Your laptop was shut off and closed. It wasnât seeing a lick of you until the time struck 9:00 am on Monday morning.
Stretching out and doing a little shimmy, you grabbed your phone laying face down on the coffee table. ESPNâs widget of the Blackhawks game versus the Blues popped up: the Blackhawks lost.
You frowned, Connor probably wasnât gonna take that well. He never did.
Scrolling down, your eyes were drawn to your latest notification: BEDARD GOES DOWN TUNNEL, END OF 3RD, CLUTCHING RIGHT SHOULDER.
You knew hockey was physical, more violent than necessary, and most players played through insane injuries, it just felt a little more deeper, more worrying, when it happened to somebody you knew and loved.
Anxiety gripped you, finger pressing the notification before you could even think about it. You didnât know if you even wanted to watch the video, but worry overwhelmed you, you had to see how bad it was.
ESPN was barely able to open before your screen turned gray, an incoming call. It was Connor.
You didnât think before picking up, speaking before the call even started.
âAre you okay? I literally just saw the notification from ESPN.â Your words were fast and jumbled, heart racing more than it should have been.
You could hear movement from the other side, muffled voices before he cleared his throat and spoke, âUh, yeah, I feelâŚâ he paused for a moment.
âYou were so going to say fine werenât you.â He laughed at you, tired and worn out. You could see it clearly, him slouched over, head down trying to work a way around the arm shaped elephant in the room.
Connor wasnât very fond of feelings, specifically his feelings. Talking about them made them real, you couldnât take back words or forget they exist. It was a territory he seldom found himself him in.
âYeah, yeah I was. Was gonna try and fake it âtill I made it.â Rolling your eyes, you sat up. You could hear the apprehension in his voice, the thin veil of his dishonesty falling. He never lied to you, not really.
âI was going to be worried either way. That was terrifying to watch. One moment you were up and the next you were down, clutching your shoulder. I couldnât even see what happened.â
He clicked his tongue. âFucking thing dislocated on me and tore. It hurts like a bitch.â
You frowned. âThat easily? Thatâs not normal, Con.â
You had him figured out. His shoulder wasnât a freak accident, it was a lingering injury he was playing through because he felt it was his personal duty to uplift a team.
Wasnât gonna work in the long run unless he wanted to be medically retired early. You knew hockey players were freaks, playing through nasty injuries consciously and willingly, didnât mean it was something you personally condoned.
Especially with someone so close to you.
âI guarantee you if there was still 10 minutes left in that period you wouldâve argued to go on and play.â It felt like he stopped breathing.
You really had him figured out. A lot more than he knew. You could be hundreds of miles away and you could still read him like book. He tensed for a moment, body locking in a way that was between discomfort and awareness. Of what, he didnât want to harp on.
âI couldâve.â He muttered out.
âI couldâve.â You mocked him, wine glass long forgotten as you sprawled on the couch, phone in hand.
It was hard to think about anything else with him. You didnât press yourself why, always dancing around the Connor sized shape your heart was molded into. You were a one track mind on the way to disaster, it was only a matter of when.
âI wouldâve whooped your ass if you did that.â Humor was easier to hide under, keeping the invisible barrier up and firm.
He chuckled tiredly, using his working hand to rub a smile off his face. You did that to him, whether you knew it or not, made it easier to breathe.
Silenced enveloped the two of you, briefly, before you spoke up again,
âAre you flying back with the team tonight?â You were curious and maybe a little too lazy to check where they'd going next. Might as well go directly to the source.
âYeah, I am. Shouldnât be a long flight. Frankâs gonna give me shit about this.â He mumbled. You could envision him moping on the other side of the phone.
Your reply came quick, smile pulling on your lips, âIt was pretty uncool that the air took you out. Probably deducted a lump some of aura points.â
He groaned, âMy aura.â
He defended himself quickly. âThat literally didnât even happen anyway. Schenn shoved me down off the draw.â
It was unfortunate for him how easy he was to irritate. âLooked like a light tap, Con. Our delicate little prince.â
His was reaction was immediate. âCut that shit out right now.â
You laughed harder than you should've, but it never failed to tickle you when he got riled up. Could always dish it but never take it.
Abruptly, a chorus of voices filtered throughout your phones speaker. The loudest ones you recognized easily, Frank and Vlasic. Frank was an extension of Connor himself, Alex you werenât too familiar with but you knew the three got along well.
The whole locker room did. It was sweet. One of the better aspects of hockey you thought.
âShoulder alright, Bedsy?â Alex, you assumed, spoke. More movement sounded from the other side as you sat there and listened.
âEh, been better. Should be okay soon.â Connor said plainly. He was the biggest liar, Frank was smart enough to catch it.
âShould be better soon.â He mocked.
âYou donât run down the tunnel frantically if it wasnât something serious. Itâs in a sling.â Frank deadpanned. You couldnât help the startled words that spilled from your lips. âA sling?â
You didnât know what you expected. Of course it would be constrained to some degree, he just failed to mention it.
You didnât know how it was possible, but you swore you could feel the pique in curiosity in both Frank and Alex. âIs that you I think it is?â Frank questioned. You laughed softly, âHi Frank.â
A battle ensued for the phone, you gathered, based on the angry shouts from Connor and the all too happy and carefree laughs from Frank, Alex egging them on.
Sounds of running echoed through your speaker before an exasperated Frank spoke. âPretty lame how he hurt himself, eh?â
You snorted. âAir, Frank. It was all the air.â
You were up now, your legs were getting restless. The movie on your TV long forgotten, wine glass now emptied.
âI could hear the sound of his aura drop, you know? Like Minecraft XP.â
You couldnât help the jubilant scream the left you. âThatâs what I said!â
You both laughed harder than you shouldâve. The joke was juvenile, like, you were not the intended target audience, but it didnât make it any less funny.
You were concerned, of course, but Connor was surrounded by team trainers and men who have gone through worse or equal injuries. He was with well-versed company.
Plus, this was payback from all the times heâd say stupid shit. It was his and Franks trademark at this point.
âUh, oh I see a very pissy Connor slugging his way over here.â Frank bemused.
Your eyebrows lifted. âJesus how far did you run?â
He hummed. âA few gates away.â
Your mouth dropped open slightly. âYouâre not wiped from the game?â
âNah, not usually. Adrenalines still got me wired.â Ah, that was it. Youâd forgotten about the after game adrenaline highs they usually got. You only got an adrenaline high when you were watching The Walking Dead.
âHowâs the 9-to-5 treating you? Hasnât screwed your pretty brain up, has it?â You grimaced. His sweet talk was awkward at best, especially coming from someone you viewed as a little brother.
âWhy do you all ask the same thing? Itâs been hell but at least I have a job.â You were drowned out mid-sentence by the sound of arguing and more jostling.
It wasnât long before Connorâs voice sounded, âWhatâd he say to you? Anything weird? Creepy?â
Frank was shouting over him before you could even reply. âWeird? Creepy? Come on, dude, Iâm the most stand up gentlemen ever. Youâre the weird one with aââ Frankâs sentence abruptly cut off, the sound of groaning faded as footsteps walked away.
âDid you justâŚ?â You didnât even have to finish your sentence.
âHe deserved a black eye, but all he got was a kick to the nuts.â You werenât even going to question it.
âOkay⌠weird. Not even gonna ask.â
That was even weirder. Someone was awfully uptight tonight.
The two of you went quiet for a minute, you listened to the background noises on the other side of the phone, head laying against the back of your couch.
You heard chirps from the other guys, small talk from flight attendants, and more rustling before things quieted down.
âSorry, just sat down in the plane.â You looked at the time, it was almost 11. He sounded tired. You didn't know what to say, cheering people up wasn't necessarily your forte. All you could do was offer him your support. He needed to know someone was there for him, unconditionally.
âCall me if you need me, kay? I still owe you for the last time.â He was cautious in that uncomfortable way he got when somebody was trying to do something nice for him.
Deflecting, he spoke. âThat was instinct. Iâm always gonna come running if you need help.â
âThen ditto.â You mused firm enough he knew you were serious.
He sighed before speaking, âFine. I will. Iâll run you âround like a dog.â
âIâd like to see you try.â
Connor huffed out a laugh. Although muffled slightly, you could hear the call of the Captain over their planes speaker. It was time to hang up, youâd been on the phone way longer than youâd thought.
And, maybe the wine was starting to set it.
ââBout to take off, Iâll text you when I get home.â
You hummed, âYou better.â
Exchanging quiet goodbyes before the line went silent and you were left to stare at your now dark phone. Your heart beat faster like it always did when you talked with him, were near him.
It was something you were still adjusting too, still not quite able to grapple with the conundrum of it.
He made it so easy to forget about everything. Just talking to him everything else muddled down, time moved slower, your stress eased, a stupid, loopy smile planted on your face.
It was a problem. A big one. Because toeing the line felt exhilarating and terrifying at the same time and you were worried the more that you wanted, the less youâd be able to hide.
Love was tricky, it always was.
You were just hoping itâd spare you of its games.
Three days later, youâd gotten your wish youâd wanted all those months ago.
Connor was now injured for the foreseeable future and he did not deal well with ideal time. It was actually quite unfortunate how little down time he usually had.
His days usually filled with travel, practice, games, all the other glamorous things that came with being a professional hockey player, were put on pause.
Besides physical therapy and the sparing doctors appointments, Connor was free to do what he wanted, mobility limited of course.
He chose to spend his time in the form of constant reels and texts.
CONNOR: Have you watched fruit love island
YOU: no⌠please tell me you havenât
YOU: what else have you done today???
CONNOR: Uh woke up, went to the rink, came home and scrolled
YOU: and when did you get home
CONNOR: You wonât hang out with me
YOU: because i have a job?? a J-O-Bâ JOB. do you know what that is??
CONNOR: Never heard of it
YOU: gtfo đ i have to actually do my JOB go hang out with frank or something
CONNOR: All the guys are in ottawa rn
CONNOR: All i have is you
CONNOR: No one is better than you
How could he send something like that so casually? Like it didnât mean literally everything.
You were so doomed it was gross.
YOU: youâre lucky Christmas is in 3 days im actually free from being a corporate slave
CONNOR: Iâll see you then
That was ominous and slightly threatening, you felt.
You wouldnât be surprised if you went home and found him sitting somewhere in your dark apartment. Unemployment did that to a person.
Setting your phone aside, you placed your hands on your keyboard staring blankly at your computer screen. His last messages running through your brain like a rabid hamster on its wheel.
Were you grasping at straws? Or had something changed?
That was a thought you had been juggling with for months now, since he barged his way into accompanying you while you were sick.
He was serious with his promise.
Heâd text everyday, call every other. No more sparring texts here and there and if he forgot to reply, heâd apologize.
That was normal friendship, wasnât it?
You did the same thing with college friends of yours, now that time and space had put you guys apart. It was understood that everyone was busy with their own lives, friendship and contact wouldnât be linear, but it would always be there.
With him, it was different. Intentional. From both sides, you put just as much effort in with him as he did you.
Maybe it was different because you were closer with him than you were your college friends. Lived in the same city, ran in the same circle for a while. It was easier and it meant just a bit more.
Blankly staring at your computer screen wasnât going to solve your problems and the puddle your brain melted into when you thought too deeply about him and strange rhythm your relationship had fallen into.
Answering passive aggressive emails was just what you needed to get your head on right and away from the mess that Connor Bedard made it.
December was all sorts of chaotic, but it felt a little more so this year.
So later that night when you opened Instagram and saw a familiar face in your DMs, you werenât that surprised.
@franknazar14: whatâs up queen
@yourusername: queen? hi frank đ
@franknazar14: you responded fast perfect
@franknazar14: are you doing anything tomorrow night?
@yourusername: probably not unless becca shows up uninvited
@franknazar14: ok ok cool
@franknazar14: has connor asked you to go anywhere
@yourusername: no.. should he have?
@franknazar14: youâre joking
@yourusername: nope lol other than some ominous ass text yesterday heâs gone weirdly silent
@franknazar14: i thought heâd done it
@franknazar14: checks out though
@yourusername: was there a point to this frank đŤŠ
@franknazar14: oh yeah sorry i thought he was gonna ask but no i have to do it
@franknazar14: itâs a home game tomorrow do you wanna sit in the box with him and some of the girls
@yourusername: oh shit really?
@yourusername: well duh how could i say no to that? đ
@yourusername: and connor was supposed to ask and didnât cause ???
@franknazar14: heâs a wuss
@franknazar14: he was probably gonna wait till last minute to stay nonchalant
@yourusername: itâs literally just going to a game. for his team. whatâs crazy about that
@franknazar14: a lot of things
@yourusername: like?? đ why are you two so cryptic
@franknazar14: all we be revealed in due time
@franknazar14: iâll send you the ticket and connor will give you the pass tmrw iâll see you
Your birthday wasnât for another couple months, Connorâs either. Other than Christmas being in 3 days, there was no other spectacular thing to celebrate or surprise you with.
You had no idea why Frank was acting weirder than he already did and why Connor was acting like a puppy with his tail tucked between his legs.
Together, the two of them were odd and wild enough, but now they were supposedly scheming and you were a little worried. And now you had the added stress of meeting the girls, the wives and girlfriends of the team.
Itâd be fine if you were socially competent but you werenât. Whatever you were in for, it was going to incredibly mortifying or entertaining.
Youâd hope it was the latter.
Nothing ever went your way.
Like promised, Connor did come to pick you up Tuesday night. A sleek black SUV pulled up next to the curb outside your apartment, door opening before your hand even touched the handle.
Connorâs uninjured arm retracted once you had hold of the door, ducking in and shutting it behind you. The driver didnât hesitate to resume driving, merging back into traffic.
You immediately pinned Connor down with a stare. No greeting just straight to work. âAre you aware you can speak to me directly?â
Conner looked back at you sheepishly and you spotted possibly the tiniest blotch of blush on his cheeks. âI donât know what youâre talking about. Frankâs just nosy.â He gave himself away there, he definitely knew what you were talking about.
He sat mechanically straight except for the shake of his right leg. Your eyes zeroed on the sling encasing his arm.
âA hurt shoulder doesnât stop the blood flow to your brain. You and Frank are up to something.â Narrowing your eyes on him you watched as he squirmed in his seat, obsessively rubbing his hands over his jeans.
Oh yeah, they were so up to something.
You refrained from speaking, knowing silence would make him crack under pressure.
Scrolling through Instagram, you kept an eye on him in your peripheral vision. Connor would rotate between staring at the window and fidgeting with something on his body or frantically typing something on his phone.
In black jeans, black beanie, a gray shirt and black jacket, he looked like he was suited up to rob a bank.
Tapping loudly on your phone you were enacting your own type of psychological warfare. Two could play nonchalant, you just knew he would crack faster than you.
Trees and buildings blurred behind the window of the car, the hum of the engine and sounds of the GPS were tonightâs ambiance.
It was perfect, lulling you into a sleepy state of serenity. Next to you, Connor grew even more restless. He would crack soon.
By the time the car pulled into the United Center, he was turned to you speaking rapidly. âNothingâs happening, I swear. I just wanted you to have a fun night outside of Becca and your apartment. And whatâs better than watching me play hockey? Watching hockey with me.â
Right, right. Of course, that made perfect sense on paper you just werenât buying. Placating him, you gave him a small smile and nod, a little enamored by his, dare you say, shy nature.
It was far from the loud and confident persona he put out there which was mostly what he was, but as anyone does, he had layers more than he even knew.
âNow you can yell at me as I call icing on every long ice puck.â You said.
He sighed, climbing out of the car to open your door for you. One armed, he was still half a gentleman. Half because Frank always complained how Connor would never hold or open the door for him, like you said, he held sides to him that one youâd never seen.
Your hand never met a door handle when you were with him.
Stepping out of the car, you said a quick thanks to the driver, meeting Connor to start your trek to the suite.
âNo way youâre out of breath.â Connor spoke from beside you. What he had failed to mention beforehand was how big the United Center was and far away the suites were.
You were accustomed to public transportation and your car, not walking. It was a need that you kept your car with you in the city. Walking was fine normally but the kind of walking you were accustomed to growing up in the suburbs was not the city kind.
You wouldnât subject yourself to that lifestyle unless you absolutely had to. âNot all of us have stamina of athletic freaks now do we.â You retorted bluntly and, admittedly, out of breath.
Connor shock his head, smiling back at you as the doors to the suite became visible.
Matching his pace, you stretched your legs as long as possible. You were hungry, like really hungry, and nothing sounded better than finger foods.
Some women were outside the door, mingling amongst themselves. Soft laughter floated through the air, everything seemed much more amicable than you were expecting. You were bracing for a cat fight for some reason.
Gossip pages always had something bad to say about the wives and girlfriends and, shamefully, you did read what they said.
You slowed down, a wave of nerves washing over you. Connor looked behind him, question in his eyes, âYou good?â
You nodded, cracking your knuckles a nervous tick you had developed years ago. âUh yeah. Just feeling nervous I guess.â
Shrugging, you stopped just a few feet from the crowd surrounding the door. âI donât know everyone seems pretty acquainted with each other. What if they donât like me?â You muttered looking everywhere but his eyes.
You heard the shuffle of his feet as he got closer, his free hand resting on your elbow, âIf Iâm confident about one thing, itâs that theyâll love you. Especially Franks girlfriend, so youâll have her and me.â He put an extra emphasis on him leaning down to catch your eye.
âYouâve got it made. Youâre funny, warm, and pretty. How could they not like you?â Your heart stuttered, breath catching.
Thatâs not a first but a territory you two never really breached. You peered up at him, hoping, praying, he couldnât see how much that one word had affected you.
âPretty?â It was out your mouth before you could stop it. Curiosity always got the best of you.
His face scrunched up like he was a little appalled that was what you took from his mini pep talk, but smoothly he spoke, âYouâre always pretty thatâs nothing new.â You fought your jaw from dropping, entire body moving in autopilot as you mindlessly followed him.
The women noticed him throwing warm smiles and greetings his way, curious eyes on you as he introduced you. âThis is myâŚâ Connor paused for a moment silently considering his next work.
You couldnât tell whether he was doing as this as a bit or was genuinely considering what you were to him, âfriend.â He finished off.
All eyes were on you now as you plastered a friendly smile on your face trying to ignore the beating your heart was taking. âHi.â Short and simple and you really had nothing else to offer.
Swallowing hard, you looked at Connor pleadingly for an escape, he looked back at you with an oddly fond smile and what you took as an evil glint in his eye.
A clamor of sweet and simple greetings shot your way nothing more than that before they were all swept back into their previous conversations.
Your body instantly deflated as you walked through the suites door. âDonât ever do that to me again, Con. That was uncomfortable.â He laughed handing you a plate. Hot containers of food were out your stomach rumbled just looking at them.
âThat was normal. You just looked like someone flashed you in front of everybody.â Tossing your head back you groaned, âNo I didnât. Donât say that shit.â You swatted at him before turning your back to him, all focus on stacking your plate with food.
The women filtered in as you made your way to a seat, sitting down next to Connor who was fiddling with his phone. Stabbing a chicken finger with your fork, you took a bite.
A tap on your shoulder broke your concentration on your plate, turning your head you saw a beautiful girl smiling down at you. Seriously, she was gorgeous. Model worthy.
âHey Lex.â Connor spoke making you jolt a little bit.
Chewing fast you swallowed as she spoke, âHey Connor,â she turned her attention on you, âIâm Alexis, Franks girlfriend.â Your shock was written on your face.
Frank was alright and all, but she was drop dead gorgeous and he was a dorky wannabe frat boy. If only he was in college.
âYou seem surprised.â She laughed sitting down in the sit next to yours.
âNo, no. Itâs just youâre gorgeous and Frank is Frank.â
âHeâs adorable isnât he.â
You nodded slowly. Adorable in an annoying younger brother way, sure. You slyly looked over at Connor, still typing away at his phone.
If you were going to claim something as adorable, it would be the guy next to you. Alexis made a face, questioning and contemplative, she so saw you look at Connor.
âHow many games have you been to?â You asked, trying to guide the conversation elsewhere.
âSince Iâve known him? Way too many.â She offered you a smile and continued, âIâve known him for forever. Weâve been dating since college.â Your eyes widened. You guessed that was normal but your college years definitely did not entail guys and a long term relationship.
Men sucked and they got even worse as you got older. âThatâs so cute! A lot of my friends married the people they started dating in college.â
She nodded, a wistful look on her face. You couldnât begin to imagine what she was thinking. A potential future with the love her life one possible decision away. It was exciting, nerve wracking. If you were honest, you were a little jealous.
âAnd you? No important guy in your life? From college? Now?â Alexis asked a curious gleam to her eye.
You shook your head before answering, âNo, no guy then or now. Only very briefly did I date, most of the guys were just assholes with big egos.â You shot her a smile and a shrug. It was what it was.
After your relationship woes, it was sort of refreshing hearing and seeing a healthy relationship unfold.
Her eyes went to something behind you, you started to turn your head to look before her hand shot out to grab your arm. Smiling, she spoke quickly.
âCome with me to grab some food. Games about to start.â She tugged you up along with her, her hand warm on your arm. Your eyebrows were drawn, you were so confused.
What the hell just happened? And why was everyone acting weird? You stood next to Alexis as she grabbed a plate and piled food on it. She occasionally chatted with some of the women as they came up to her, they shot you warm smiles.
Everyone seemed nice and you wanted to interact with them you just couldnât get yourself too. If Becca was here, everything wouldâve been easier but maybe thatâs because you two were strangely attached because of the woes and throes of college. You couldnât live without her, she was your best friend, someone you called a sister.
You followed Alexis back to your seats on autopilot, the game had already begun at this point. The Blackhawks were playing the Flyers, black and orange jerseys and red and black jerseys skated up and down the ice.
You found yourself oddly invested in the game more so in finding ways to insert Connor into plays. You could see where he was missed in the line up, you could see how badly he missed playing.
From next to you, his full attention was on the game. Leg shaking, foot tapping up and down, it was like he was in the game, feeling the pressure, the stress.
It was, in a weird way, mesmerizing. You liked getting to learn the little things about him, his quirks. His devotion to hockey one of the things you loved about him most. It was beautiful to see someone so passionate about what they did.
âYou enjoying the game?â You jumped, startled. Connor was turned toward you, leaning in to speak.
âOf course. Love seeing everyone doing what they do.â You pointed down at the ice, tipping your head towards it. He pursed his lips before he smiled. âThen youâd realize the periods over.â
You whipped your head to the Jumbotron quickly looking over to Alexis finding her sit empty. Your mouth gaped open. âIt just started?â You sputtered out.
He laughed reaching out a hand to lightly push your head. âWhateverâs goinâ on up there is more entertaining apparently. I thought you were gonna school me on icing?â He teased throwing your earlier words back in your face.
âI was thinking.â You deadpanned.
âDeeply.â Connor shook his head as he started to get up, hands tapping at his pockets.
You began to get up with him, body automatically moving to follow him. He touched your shoulder, gently guiding you back down. âIâm just going down to the locker room for intermission. To boost team morale or something.â
You nodded, easing back into your seat. âYouâre bored of me already?â
He shot you a look, kicking your leg as he walked past you. âMe? Nah. Youâre the one zoning out, I think youâre bored of me.â
You groaned covering your hands with your face. âJust go away. Go lift your team up.â He left, laugh fading as he grew farther away.
Great, now you were alone without any avenue of rescue besides your phone. You could only begin to imagine how you were going to embarrass yourself.
It wasnât long before Alexis sat back down next to you, pining you with curious stare and all-knowing smile.
Well she certainly didn't beat around the bush. Your eyes widened almost instantly. You looked around with the panic of a chicken with its head cut off before focusing on her.
âKeep it down, will you? What the hell?â You were panic-stricken. Your heartbeat faster, the room grew hotter.
Alexis looked calm and collected, almost happy with herself. She ignored you, clapping her hands once, âAnd he likes you too.â
She was one word away fromâ wait what? She said what?
The shock must have been written all over your face as her smile grew wider. It was like she already knew everything without even knowing anything. âYou donât think so? Itâs pretty obvious to me.â
You shook your head, ferociously, eyes darting to the intermission countdown in the Jumbotron. 8 minutes left but who knew when he would come back.
âI donât think anything. Howââ you stuttered, thoughts racing, âHow did you know? Was it that obvious?â
She laughed some, shaking her head. âNo, no, you werenât donât worry. Well, other than the staring it wasnât obvious.â That wasnât any more comforting.
âHeâs just different around you. Softer? Calmer? I donât think anyone else has picked up on it, but I can see the difference with him without you around and with you around.â
You nodded, once and then another time again for good measure. You couldnât believe what you were hearing, a big part of you didnât even want to believe it.
Maybe she was just messing with you for some really odd reason, but you didnât get the feeling she would do that. You wanted to say something, wanted to respond, but words failed you. Alexis sensed that, grabbing your hand and giving it a light tap. The countdown on the Jumbotron read 3 minutes.
âAnd he talks about you a lot. Like, a lot.â She pinned you down with a stare. âI knew who you were before you ever knew who I was, I bet.â
You hunched over, covering your hands over your face. âThis is exactly what I didnât need to hear.â
Groaning softly, you peeked at her from between your fingers. âI donât need any false hope, Alexis. Seriously. Like none. I donât want these⌠feelings to ruin the friendship.â You put a hand over your heart. Your traitorous heart.
She hummed, shaking her head. âItâs not false hope if itâs true.â The arena grew louder as the sound of the announcers came back over the speakers. You looked down at the ice, players were skating, getting in formation for the start of the period.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, hoping, praying, that maybe she was right.
Connor slid back into his seat a few minutes after the second period started. You shoved down your nerves, downing your drink to occupy yourself. You already had to pee, that was definitely going to make the urge so much worse.
âYou think theyâll win?â You whispered, leaning into him.
You were being brave. Well, your version of brave which meant inching slightly closer to him. It was exhilarating.
He frowned, eyes moving along with the play on the ice. âZ and Jaime are handing our asses to us.â That meant no. He didnât like to accept defeat, hated it even more when he knew he could be doing something about it but physically couldnât.
âYouâll be back on the ice soon, Con.â He nodded eyes flicking back to you. You smiled and he quickly adverted his attention. Weird.
His leg was still restless, heel hitting the floor at a fast, even tempo. Something was bothering him and you were beginning to think it wasnât what was happening on the ice.
You thought back to the cryptic messages from him and Frank. Maybe they were planning something. They probably were.
You focused back on the game, eyes periodically drifting back to Connor. His chest puffed up from time to time like he was gearing up to do something.
His body would lean toward you, heâd turn his head just an inch before heâd shrink down, righting himself forward. He slid his hand down his face every single time like he was resetting himself. He has never acted like this.
You frowned, something was so going on. You looked over at Alexis she was in between typing on her phone and watching the game. Normal behavior, she'd fine all night except for her wicked sense of intuition.
Whatever was happening was just a Connor thing. He never ceased to confuse you.
âIâm gotta use the bathroom, Iâll be back.â You were unfolding yourself from your chair, his hand coming out to clutch your arm. âYou need me to come with you?â He spoke almost pleadingly. Almost like he was saying don't go.
You looked down at him puzzled. Connor was getting up to stand before you lightly shoved his chest to sit him down. âIâm fine, I wonât get lost. Sit down.â He sat down begrudgingly, shooting you a worried looked as you walked away.
Away from him, you could finally breathe easy. Your brain finally wasnât flipping over backwards trying to interpret every thing said or reading his every little move.
Purse slung over your shoulder, you stood just outside the door to the suite rummaging through it. You were looking for your lip gloss, hoping you hadnât left it at home.
Every single time you intentionally searched your purse for something, you swore it made it harder to find. Case in point now, your hand was touching everything but your lip gloss.
âDid I leave it at home?â You murmured under your breath, purse now held in front of you as you peered down in it.
âHey!â A high pitched, friendly voice sounded from behind you. Your heart skipped a beat, what was with it and everyone scaring you today?
Turning around, you found an unfamiliar face smiling behind you. You looked around, searching the hallway to see if she was talking to someone else. With her eyes on you and the hallway weirdly empty, it was apparent she was talking to you.
âHi?â It came out as a question rather than an actual greeting. The woman before you smile grew even larger as she took a step forward.
You got a good look at her, she was a very pretty, petite blonde girl. She easily looked like one of those Instagram influencers that swore up and down âBloomâ actually worked.
âYouâre with Connor, right? His friend?â You nodded slowly looking for a way out of this.
âPerfect! Iâve been dying to talk to you!â She took a step forward to stand next to you, grabbing your arm practically dragging you to the bathroom.
You needed to use the bathroom anyway, but you did not want company and still hadnât found your lip gloss. She was faster than you would have thought for someone you assumed was 5â2 at best.
You were having a hard time keeping up with her, but that seemed to be the theme of the day. She was clearly a woman on a mission and you had a feeling you werenât gonna like the contents of her mission.
Pulling the door open, her grip on you loosened as you both stepped into the bathroom. It was silent except for the sound of the running air conditioner.
You hesitantly stepped closer to where she stood at the bathroom counter, fixing her hair. Sitting your purse down on the counter, you continued your search for your lip gloss. Your purse was genuinely bottomless.
You tried your best to ignore her, frequently glancing at her from the corner of your eye as the silence stretched further. It was like she was baiting you to speak first. You wouldnât, your pride wouldnât let and you happened to not mind silence.
Your hand touched the sleek plastic tube of your lip gloss, you mentally fist bumped yourself.
âI thought Iâd go to a direct source to ask,â she started. Your hand stopped midway to your lips, applicator out. âand youâre his friend, obviously.â She gave you a pinched smile.
Arms crossed, she leaned her hip against the counter to face you. You tried to pay her little mind, nodding along to whatever bullshit she was about to spew. âSo you know, like, everything about him, right? Right! Does he have a girlfriend?â
Oh the hard hitting questions. You knew this was gonna be the reason for this âchat,â you just wished sheâd get on with it. Putting the applicator back in the tube, you twisted it shut, shoving it back down in your purse.
âHe hasnât mentioned one, so no.â You looked at her, placing your purse over your shoulder. You really had to pee, too, and this was dragging on.
âI thought so! Ugh, youâre such a big help. Do you think heâll go for me? Am I his type?â She stepped away from the counter, giving a twirl and full show of her outfit.
She wore jeans, a leather, revealing top under a loose fitting coat. She was obviously athletic, not a lick of fat on her body. She also checked blonde and short of the list, so yeah she was his type.
âUh yeah. You definitely are.â Your confidence was slipping by the second, it wasnât hard to fall into nasty comparisons between you and her.
You were imagining her on his arm. They would look good together. Too good. Like they were the same caliber and would run in the same circles. She ran miles around you, you thought.
Now you just wanted to go home.
âShould I go up to him? What should I say? What does he like to talk about?â She rattled off questions and you mindlessly answered them.
You lied, of course. It was nothing more than friendly competition except she didnât know you were competing for him. Hell, even you didnât know until 20 minutes ago.
âYou are just the best, seriously. A lot of girls wouldnât help another girl out. If I get a date, Iâm taking you out for drinks!â She practically squealed, your ears almost fell off. There was no way anyone could be this loud.
She was walking towards the door, furiously typing on her phone before you could even respond, dismissing you like you were nothing more than a stray cat. Youâd run your course of usefulness for her.
Eyeing her back for a second, you turned around heading toward a stall.
By the time you were done with your business and were wiping your hands off you had realized something: she didnât even know your name. Couldnât even dignify you to ask. That brought you down just an extra notch.
It was kind of laughable how little of the game you had actually watched.
The first period it was your own fault, lost in your head rather than lost in the game. The second period was no fault of your own, that whirlwind of a blonde had occupied you longer than you thought.
There was 3 minutes left in the second period, Hawks were down 2. It was⌠unfortunate.
Connor looked up at you as you approached your seat, question on his face. âDonât ask. I wanted to pee but did that with a side of girl talk.â
The disdain mustâve been evident in your voice as Connor straightened in his seat. âDid someone bother you. A fan?â
You shook your head, rubbing your temple. âNo. Well I guess you could call her a fan of yours.â His mouth formed the shape of an âOâ, his tensed body deflating.
He rubbed his neck, âWas she nice at least?â His question was innocent but it still rubbed you the wrong way.
You hated to think that he was curious about this 'her'
âShe had the enthusiasm of a Pomeranian, Iâll say that.â You felt Alexis poke you, you turned your attention to her.
She leaned into your ear, speaking lowly, âYou good?â You were tired, social battery on the fringe of short-circuiting, but you were gonna fake it till you made it.
âYup, Iâm great.â Alexis gave you an unimpressed look.
The Hawks managed to score before the end of the period. The arena erupted and buzzed with energy unlike before. The hope in everyone around you raised your spirits a tad.
Connor had left back down to the locker, promising that heâd be back soon and youâd actually be able to watch the game together.
If you were being honest, youâd rather have just watched the game from home with him. At least youâd have him all to yourself there.
Down in the locker room, Connor sulked in the corner.
Tonight was not going as planned. It felt like everything that could go wrong was going wrong. Partially his fault, mostly actually, he was a chicken. A big fat chicken who couldnât pull the moves on you like he wanted too. Like he hyped himself up to do. How Frank did too.
Who was he to take advice from Frank? He was neither sound of mind nor smooth in any way, it was a miracle how he managed to get Alexis to be his girlfriend and for so long.
Franks advice sounded good in planning, but now that it was happening it didnât feel so good, but maybe thatâs because his stomach was in a knot and he couldnât get you alone.
Like Frank could hear Connor mentally scorning him, he appeared.
âHowâs it going? You do it yet?â
Undressed with just his hockey pads on, Frank plopped down next to Connor. They were huddled in the back corner of the room, the other guys preoccupied with eating, cooling down, or talking to specific coaches. They payed no mind to Frank and Connor, used to their antics.
âNo. I havenât done anything actually.â Connor sank down as far as he could without hurting his shoulder, staring at the white ceiling tile.
Frank made a sound of surprise, kicking him in the leg. âNothing? Really? You havenât, like, put your moves on her yet?â
Connor groaned. That was the problem here. Frank was simplifying this when the situation wasnât simple at all. This was his best friend they were talking about.
This was all sorts of complicated and Connor had no clue how to deal with it. You were just his friend for years, always there with your jokes and likeness. You were comfortable, stable.
And then, you werenât just that.
You were pretty, gorgeous, everything. You always had been to him, he just hadnât honed in on it till recently. Sometimes he looked at you and the wind got knocked out of him.
Whether that was through FaceTime or at his apartment, talking about his former teammates, his hometown, anything, heâd look at you and be frozen.
You fit so well near him, with him. He played his growing affection off as time passing and you being a constant. Familiarity made the heart feel fonder, but this breached fondness. It was all-consuming and so confusing.
The confusion fucked with him, with everything. It was hard to focus on anything when his head immediately went to you.
Heâd done it unconsciously at first, he genuinely really was busy. October was always a messy, complicated month. There wasnât enough time to do anything let alone breathe, so when communication stretched thin between the two of you, it went from the forefront of his mind to the back of it.
He thought the space was necessary, thatâd it fix whatever chaos was going inside his head. It helped for a bit, muddled it down, muted it. He was able to focus, commit all his energy to hockey and not the new way he wanted you in his life.
And then, you got sick and every feeling came back with a ferocity.
He didnât expect to show up at your door, but the second you told him you were sick, he envisioned you home alone letting the sickness pass over you because you were too stubborn to ask for help.
He couldnât let that happen, couldnât leave you alone when he knew you were alone and in pain.
He was finally home and he missed you and whether you knew it or not, you needed him, he decided. So he was moving before he even thought about it. Keys in hand, he was out the door.
And before he knew it, he was outside your door watching you peek your head out the door, staring at him with those tired little eyes. It wasnât even a thought at that point, it was instinct.
He was going to stay with you, he was going to do what he could while he could. He was pre-committed to getting sick if that meant you werenât alone.
The more distance you put between the two of you, the more he wanted to smother it. Thatâs when he knew he was gone.
Distance wasnât going to solve his problem, it was only going to worsen it.
And then he saw you curled into your couch, eyes fluttering shut, cheek pressed against your arm.
You looked perfect under the glow of the TV, he felt his resistance slipping. His mouth opened before he could stop it. He had to let you know you mattered. That he did miss you, more than anything.
He said what he could unless he wanted to light a fire he wasnât sure he could put out.
After he put you to bed, he tried to sleep. Tossed and turned before he gave up. You were right, the couch was not meant to be slept on. He had a game that night, but he didnât care. He could always nap before it.
He made the containers of soup, shoved them into the fridge along with the ginger shots. Took the pills out and placed them on your bedside table, trying his best to not make a sound.
The note came last, he mulled over what to say. Was it too much? Or not enough? He leaned over your kitchen counter contemplating longer than he shouldâve before he wrote down a fraction of what he wanted to stay.
It was 4 in the morning by the time he left, it was then it really hit him, he couldnât go back to being normal.
He didnât know how too.
So no, he hadnât put any moves on you yet. He didnât want to completely fuck up one of the most important relationships in his life. Frank didnât quite seem to get the gravity of his situation.
âIâm nervous, okay? Is that what you want to hear? Alexis is also staring me down like a hawk. You have a big ass mouth.â Connor straightened up, narrowing his eyes at Frank. He knew Frank had told Alexis all about his feelings for you, spilled the plans of what tonight was supposed to hold.
âWe needed a womanâs opinion on this. I was just asking for help, you should be thanking me.â Connor rolled his eyes at Frank.
Yeah, right. Just put you and him in a room full of other people who were curious enough to watch your every move, that was the perfect environment for him to make a move.
âIâm gonna do this at my speed, Frank. Itâs happening tonight. Somehowâ Connor grounded out, like he was trying to convince himself that.
âAtta boy, thatâs the spirit!â Frank clapped his back before standing up. âNow stop talking so I can get changed.â Frank told Connor, looking slightly dejected he had to leave.
âMake me proud and stop sulking!â Flexing his muscles, Frank turned around to join the rest of the locker room in gearing up for the third period. He hoped it stayed as uneventful as the first two.
Once again, the next period had started and Connor wasnât back.
You tried to not act surprised but you felt a little let down. Apparently he was the man of the hour tonight. He was everywhere but with you, and it was disheartening.
Your heart and head had gotten pulled in every damn direction within the last few hours, it was exhausting. You were over it, wanting to crawl into your bed. Alexis was the only consistent highlight of the night.
She was surprisingly funny and really easy to get along with, the ice broken between the two of you as the night went on. She was keeping you sane, little did she know.
You kept looking towards the door hoping Connor would come through. You even looked down at the benches, seeing if maybe he was down there with the team. Thatâd be weird, but anything was possible.
By the time there was a little less than 10 minutes left in the period, you grew worried. He hadnât texted you and all of your texts went unanswered. Maybe you were being overbearing, but technically he had invited you here, and it was feeling like he was ditching you.
Noticing the tick in your leg, Alexis motioned for you to get up. âCome on. If youâre so worried about him, letâs go look for him.â
That wasnât the worst idea in the world and you were kind of sick of being in this box. You could feel the stares from all the other women all night, you just wanted out now and a little adventure never hurt anyone.
Grabbing your purse, you stood up, following her out the door. The hallways had people scattered, dejected Hawks fans leaving early. They were down 3-1 now.
You mindlessly followed Alexis, trusting her judgment on wherever you were going.
âWhere are we going?â You asked matching her stride.
âDown to the locker room and waiting area for the guys. Canât imagine heâd be lingering around up here.â You hummed, that was smart.
You got into an elevator, Alexis flashing her pass as you both stepped off it and into a restricted area, you assumed. It was quiet except for the occasional thrum of the crowd and sounds of the building.
âIf heâs not down here I have no clue where heâs gone.â Alexis added softly looking just as confused as you. You had a pit in your gut, one that had been forming all night. You tried to ignore it, but it was making itself more and more known.
Your gut was usually never wrong, something was going to happen you just didnât know when. Adjusting your shirt, you bumped into Alexisâs back jolting you backwards.
You frowned, why had she stopped so abruptly?
Stepping aside and peering around her, you understood why.
Down the hall, you saw Connor leaned against the wall talking to a blonde. The same blonde that was pestering you about him. She had done whatâd she promised, she was making her move.
He had a smile on his face as he spoke to her, leaning down occasionally to hear her. You were gutted.
As if noticing, Alexis took hold of your shoulders trying to turn you around. âIâm sure itâs nothing.â She added, tugging on you harder than before, but you were glued to your spot.
Watching as their interaction got deeper, went on longer. The blonde pressed her way into his space and he just⌠stood there. Took it.
You didnât know you were expecting. He owed you no loyalty, he could do whatever he wanted, but fuck this hurt. It really hurt. You had your dreams answered and crushed within the span of 2 hours, it was pathetically laughable.
Alexis didnât speak, wrapping her arm around shoulder, hand rubbing your arm. The two swapped phones, you assumed they were exchanging numbers.
Yeah, you really wanted to go home now.
They parted ways, smiles and all. You watched as she got closer, head down in her phone before she looked back and yelled, âIâll call you later!â
On instinct, you and Alexis hid behind a wall as the blonde passed by. You two were quiet, both trying to process what you had just seen. Heard. There wasnât a lot of holes to fill here, the story seemed pretty self-explanatory.
âThis has to be a misunderstandingââ Alexis started, you shook your head at her.
You were on the verge of tears, but you wouldnât cry here. Couldnât cry here. You were trying to swallow your pride, your stupid foolish hope. You were trying to put the friend facade back on.
You were happy for him. If exploring a relationship with that blonde made him happy, it made you happy. There wasnât nothing else to it. You werenât gonna harp on the fact you thought he might possibly have liked you an hour ago. That didnât happen.
You knew this would happen. Knew you were going to be crushed by these stupid feelings, you were glad it happened before they had developed a little further.
âIâm gonna call an Uber. Thank you for keeping me company tonight, Alexis. It was great to meet you.â You gave her a pinched smile, pulled her into a quick before you spun on your heel and were walking away.
âButââ Alexis stopped, she knew what it felt like to be in your position. But you were wrong and this was a fluke, Connor was just stupid.
She had to find Frank immediately.
Connor didnât know where you went.
Heâd asked the girls in the suite, they said they hadnât seen you since you and Alexis had left earlier. He couldnât find Alexis either.
Walking back down to the locker room, he texted you: once, twice, three times. No response.
He frowned, that was not normal for you. He was worried.
âFuck.â He muttered picking up his pace. He didnât even need to step into the locker room, he found Frank and Alexis standing in the waiting area outside it.
Both of them looked like they were ready to light him on fire.
âAre you fucking stupid Connor?â He was taken aback. What? What had he done?
âYou donât give your number to another girl in front of the girl you like!â Frank exclaimed. He was outraged more than he shouldâve been. Connorâs stomach dropped.
He looked at Alexis, she shot him a dirty look. âI thought you liked her Connor?â He ran a hand over his hair. What were they talking about?
âI do. I do. What are you guys talking about?â He was confused and his arm was killing him and tonight was a shit show. Nothing had gone to plan. Nothing. It seemed it was blowing up right in his face.
âConnor, we saw you talking with that blonde girl. Saw you exchange numbers. Literally heard her say âIâll call you.ââ Alexis deadpanned. She was looking at him like he was evil and really, truly stupid.
And maybe he was because he had done that, but he was cornered. That blonde, Kelsey, did not take no for an answer. The word was not in her vocabulary and she had already held him hostage long enough before he had to cave.
Her number was already blocked and deleted from his phone.
âShe cornered me! I couldnât leave! I fucking swear it.â He pleaded, he didnât know why their opinion mattered so much, but he had to prove it to them that he was serious. That he wasnât a piece of shit.
Although he knew you thought he was the biggest one. Who ditches their friend like that? An asshole. A big one.
Frank was easy to convince, his anger rolling off him straight into pity. âYouâre screwed, buddy. Like big time screwed.â
Alexis interjected sheepishly, âI might have let it slip that you liked her. She believed it too.â
It went from worse to horrible, terrible.
âIs she here? Whereâd she go?â He asked, pacing back and forth. You didnât have a car, heâd brought you here and he planned to take you back home.
âShe left like 10 minutes ago. Said she was taking an Uber.â You had slipped away before he even knew how royally he fucked up. He was losing his time to do proper, convincing damage control.
He knew how you held onto grudges, condemned people who were careless of other peopleâs feelings, he was falling into every single category unknowingly.
âSheâs never going to talk to me again.â Connor grimaced, rubbing his aching shoulder. The cherry on top to a great night.
âYouâre under the impression she even liked you anyway. If she doesnât youâre good, you just look like a douche.â Connorâs eyes fell to Alexis, her face screwed up in an uncomfortable way.
âShe does like him, Frank.â Alexis looked him straight in the eye. âShe likes you, Connor.â
Frank blew a big huff of air out his mouth, hands falling to his hips. âWe had mistletoe and everything, how could you fuck this up so bad?â
Connor didnât know. Didnât know how he got here. He almost had you, he was so close to confessing. To spilling his guts. Then he fucked it up, blew any chance of anything out of the water. He walked into tonight thinking he had you, now he wasnât sure if he would ever have you again.
