Page 98 of Freshmeet
I pretended not to notice the silent conversation happening behind my back as I drank and refilled my glass. Turning, I smiled at Connor and said, “I’m kind of tired. I think I’m going to head to bed.”
“I’ll go with you.”
When Jamie catcalled, Connor shot him a glare that set all three of the guys off.
I hurried to his room, my cheeks hot as hell.
“Sorry about that, I—actually, I don’t have an explanation for them.”
I laughed, setting my glass on the beat-up side table. “I have a few of those at home. I get it.”
We brushed our teeth in silence, casting lingering looks at each other in the mirror. Connor carefully undressed, wincing when he lifted his arms over his head.
I took a clean shirt from his dresser and tried my best to ignore the way Connor watched me change.
Fat chance.
The living room had gone quiet as we got under the covers. Assuming our usual sleeping position—Connor flat on his back, me draped across him—he let out a contented sigh.
“Am I hurting you?”
“Nah. That side is fine.”
“I can’t believe someone ran you off the road.”
“It was wild. They chased us down Bottom Road, and Jamie couldn’t shake them. Luckily, the Lincoln is old enough to be a tank.”
“You think you’ll be able to fix it?”
He shook his head. “Nah.”
I kissed the bottom of his jaw. “I’m sorry. I know how much that car means to you.”
His hold tightened on my waist. “I’m just glad I got to work on it with my grandpa.”
His fingers softly ran down my back, and my eyes drifted closed. Right as I was about to fall asleep, his phone buzzed.
“What now?” he groaned, sitting up to grab it without hurting his side. The glow of the screen lit his frowning face.
Rubbing my eyes, I asked, “What’s up?”
He dropped his phone back on the side table and flopped back down. “My ex-girlfriend’s texting me.”
I hummed, unsure of how to navigate a conversation about his ex when jealousy was bubbling irrationally in my belly.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when I didn’t reclaim my spot.
“Nothing. I’m just curious why your high school sweetheart is texting at—” I tapped my phone. “One in the morning.”
“She’s not my high school sweetheart, just the girl I dated in high school.” He pinned me with a serious look. “There’s a difference. And she’s probably texting because she has a sixth sense for reaching out when I’m at bullshit capacity. You’d think ignoring her at the start of summer would’ve been enough for her to get the message.”
The pieces fell into place, and I snuggled into Connor’s side. “So, you aren’t in touch?”
He laughed, jostling my head. “Hell no. I should probably block her, but that would cause more drama than just ignoring her.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
