[Love Lies Bleeding]: Hopeless, not heartless

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| Chapter Nine | Love Lies Bleeding

I've never been scared to look Connor in the eye, not when we were kids, and not even after finding him again. But right now, I'm terrified.

His eyes are the darkest and most violent green I've ever seen. His jaw clenches, as a mixture of glare and panic, crosses his face. But this time I know that I'm not on the receiving end.

He takes a couple of rushed steps toward me, grabbing me by the elbows and steadying me gently. His touch is so different from the one I experienced seconds ago, so intimate and healing.

"Are you okay?" He mumbles, his eyes searching my face and body for any injuries. The way he's looking at me is so affectionate, I lose all sense of where I am.

His reaction is foreign and yet familiar all at the same time. It's like time hasn't changed a thing between us like it's just Connor going crazy whenever I got hurt when we were still kids.

In the distance, I can hear the douchebag growl and struggle to stand up to his feet, but then fall down again with a loud thud.

My attention, however, is quickly back to Connor as he grabs my shoulders gently and bends down a little so now we are on the same level.

I nod repeatedly, to give him an answer and not just reach out and wrap my arms around him to hide in his embrace and silence the world... just like I did the other day.

"I'm okay," I mumble, and after searching my eyes for a second longer he slowly let goes of me.

Turning around, he launches himself toward Isaac like a strong current.

"Connor!" His name is barely out of my mouth when he kicks Isaac so hard, his whole body crushes against the wall. He kneels down and starts to throw violent punches at him, making him growl in pain.

I have never seen anything like this in real life and now everything is happening so fast, my mind can't even decide what to do next.

"Touch her again and you're fucking dead, you're fucking dead!" Connor growls as he keeps sending heavy punches at him, making him bleed. "You think your bruises were bad the last time? Wait until I'm done with you today, fucker."

At the sight of the body bleeding on the floor, my mind throws me back to reality and I can finally start to function.

Rushing toward Connor, I try to hold him back by his leather jacket before he can kill Isaac.

As much as I hate Isaac right now, I don't want Connor to become a convict.

"Stop!" I say louder, wrapping my arms around him, hugging him from behind as I try to pull him away. "Please, stop it! CONNOR!"

Finally, his hand freezes in the air as he starts to slowly calm down.

One hand still holding Isaac by the collar, he turns his head slightly to the side to look at me.

"You don't want to do this," I tell him, shaking my head. "You don't." I wrap my hand around his fist, and my fingers look so tiny around it. My hand doesn't even cover half of his, and yet, it feels like the gesture somehow holds him back.

Slowly Connor stands up to his feet, with me still glued to his back, and steps away from Isaac's shaking body on the floor. Turning around, he faces me, with a furious expression on his face, and jerks his head toward the stairs leading down.

"Let's go," he mumbles under his breath, and I nod because I've been ready to leave this place for decades now.

As we near the staircase, walking side by side, the trash grunting on the floor finds it smart enough to open his mouth and threaten us, as if he's not scared of Connor redesigning his face again.

When we turn around, we find him trying to crawl up to his feet, his face a bloody mess.

"You're going to p-pay for this! Wait un-until the police knock on your door." The asshole stutters, crying and making Connor smirk in return like that's what exactly he's waiting for to break his face again.

I feel like he is.

"Sure, once you stop crying and form a basic sentence," Connor says and I chuckle, forgetting about the terrible possibility I could have suffered through if he hadn't shown up.

"Go ahead and try it, asshole." I threaten back, glaring at him with disgust. "I'm milliseconds away from getting your ass locked up for sexual assault. And trust me, I've got the evidence right here," I show him the scratch on my wrist, he's left along with his DNA and the fresh red marks his grip left on my overly sensitive skin. I'll make sure to take a picture of these tonight.

"Let's see who'll go behind the bars faster - you or him."

Isaac opens his mouth to say something but closes it again when Connor gives him a raised brow as if challenging him to speak and see what happens next.

Once we realize he's not brave enough to blurt more nonsense, we climb down the stairs and get the hell out of there.

I stir awake from a nightmare, with a racing heart. In my nightmare, Connor didn't show up, leaving me alone and screaming in that hallway.

Sitting up, I try to regulate my breathing, by hugging the pillow next to me to my chest and breathing in and out.

In and out.

I remember that back in middle school, I read somewhere that it reduces anxiety and stress, which turned out to be true for me. 

As I do my tick, it takes me a second to regulate my heart, and once I do, I realize I'm not alone in the room, not really.

The door leading to the balcony is halfway open, the soft wind moving the curtain to the side and making it look like it's slow dancing. In between the movement of the curtain I can see Connor's tall figure leaning against the railing, his back to me.

He's not wearing a shirt, just a pair of dark sweatpants hanging low from his hips. The sight of him standing there barefoot, with his wide shoulders and ripped back displayed, makes my breath hitch and my stomach do the kinds of flips I've never experienced before.

Never before have I seen him almost naked and so relaxed like this, so my heart is practically bursting out of my chest again, this time more violently, as I keep staring at him and taking his gorgeousness in.

The events of last night flash in my head as I take him in - me trying to find Sydney and get the apartment keys that I left in her car, failing because apparently she's left with a guy from one of her classes, trying to reach Jack and being sent right to his voicemail.

To say I was surprised when Connor told me to get into his car is to say nothing at all. Though that was nothing, compared to the second I realized he was taking me home with him, because I really thought he was going to dump me in front of my building and leave.

I could never imagine him doing me this favor, but he did.

He took me home with him.

The short drive to his place was silent. But well, maybe that was because I was passed out almost the whole ride, and only woke up when he parked the car in front of a two-story house.

Through the silent and dark house, he led me to his room, and threw one of his old t-shirts at me, never once saying a word. I realized then, he was mad at me.

He was frustrated because he had to deal with me the whole night, bring me to his place and then into his room, land me his bathroom, and then one of his old T-shirts to change into.

Yeah, being kind to me must have been exhausting for him. Poor Connor.

If I'm being completely honest, I was expecting him to lecture me and repeat "I told you so" like a broken record, because I'm pretty sure he was doing it in his head.

I could tell that even though his calm and " still don't give a crap about you" demeanor, he was fuming inside.

The last thing I remember is sitting on his bed to change into his T-shirt and boxers after he grabbed a pillow and left the room.

I guess I fell asleep then, slightly tipsy from the alcohol still in my veins. I didn't even have enough energy to say a single word, try to lighten up the mood, ask about the place he's staying at or satisfy my curiosity, and snoop around his room the way I've always wanted to (stalker much, Mia?).

Well... I can do that now.

Taking his room in, under the glow of the small lump on the nightstand, I realize that the space is small, tiny compared to his old room that I still remember. It's also organized and spotless, but that's not surprising considering that he's always been like that. 

His father always hated when things were out of order, so he'd try his best to not be as messy as his mom.

The walls in his current room are a dark shade of grey, almost black, with some old wooden pieces of furniture here and there, and a basic IKEA lamp. A door leads to the bathroom, while the other one to the balcony, and that's pretty much it.

Other than his drafting board and the wall full of architectural references and his sketches, there's nothing interesting to observe. Nothing to indicate it belongs to him or someone else, it's just... faceless.

I'm surprised his father didn't get him a full penthouse in New York because knowing him he'd do it to avoid being talked about in his snobby circle. God forbid someone found out his son was living in a regular dorm or a tiny room.

Could this be a friend's place or a spot Connor brings people he thinks are not worthy to step on the fancy carpets of his penthouse suite?

My eyes return to his back, as I slide off his bed and start to make my way to him, his socks saving my feet from touching the cold wooden floor.

As if sensing my presence, Connor turns his head back, his dark green eyes making me stumble on my feet slightly as I step out onto the balcony. He's looking at me without the usual cold stare. His eyes on me now are calm and hot to the maddening level.

This new side of him I'm experiencing tonight is making me breathless and I have no idea about what's going inside his head.

Is he playing with my head?

His gaze stays on me, as I slowly reach him, ignoring the shivers running down my spine. Once I'm standing next to him, he turns his head away and stares back at the sky.

My fingers are practically aching to press against his skin and trace every muscle and line on his body. To say it's painful as hell is to say nothing at all.

"Why are you up?" He asks, his deep voice reaching to every part of my body.

"Why are YOU up? "

"Because you were in my bed and the couch downstairs is bruising my ass," he says with a frown, "Not that it's any of your fucking business".

So it IS his bed after all.

"You could have lied down with me, it wouldn't have been the first time," I mumble loud enough for him to hear, but he ignores me as if he didn't.

His whole body is radiating so much heat, I start to physically ache for his closeness, so like a moth flying to the light, a sunflower stretching toward the Sun, I take a soundless, small step to the left, to feel him closer.

I've never been attracted to anyone like this, no one but him. For me, it's always been him and I wonder if he'd believe me if I told him this.

"You're staring," he says without even looking at me.

"Am not," I fire back almost instinctively, jerking my head away. "I...uh... thank you for tonight," I mumble, rocking back and forth on my feet, the feeling of gratitude toward the new Connor foreign to me. "I don't even want to think about what would have happened if you didn't show up."

He reaches inside the pocket of his sweatpants, pulling out a small classic metal box with his initials carved on it.

CHB.

My eyes drink in the expert movement of his beautiful fingers as he places the box on the railing, pulls the lid open, and starts to roll a joint.

As I keep watching his expert fingers move, letting me know he's done this a thousand times before, I notice the red and blue bruises on his knuckles. My heart sinks when I realize they exist because of me and suddenly I want to bring his hands to my lips and heal them with soft kisses.

He's so gorgeous, looking like he's out of a scene, with the beautiful dawn in front of him. He's doing something so ordinary and making it look so insanely hot.

How can he freely walk this earth with a gorgeous face like this and not be a danger to our population?

"You should have left the party when I told you to. But you never fucking listen, do you?" His voice cuts through my thoughts.

"If you knew he was up to something you should have warned me, instead of trying to push me around like I'm a dummy."

"It must be shocking news to you, but I'm not your bodyguard."

"And yet you showed up there and acted like one when you saw him assault me. Tell me, Connor, did you not lose your mind because it was me?" I shoot with a brave expression on my face.

He lets out a cold and cynical chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

"Don't delude yourself, silly. I would have done that for anyone else."

"Yeah? Beating him up the first time too, when he said crude things about me?" I push, standing on my ground, because yes, I'm not stupid.

If what Isaac said was the truth, then Connor hasn't changed much. And I don't think the asshole was lying, there is no motive for him to do that.

"I have no idea what you're ranting about. Whatever the fucker said was total bullshit and you know it."

"Sure, if it'll help you sleep at night. And don't try to give me the 'I told you so' speech again because I don't need it one bit."

"Of course, you don't, you do whatever stupid shit you want to do and no one can stop you," he snaps bringing the newly rolled joint to his lips.

"Seems like we have at least one thing in common." I give him a painfully sweet smile, trying to get on his nerves.

I fail though because he just stares down at me with a blank face. He then exhales a small puff of smoke and moves his attention back to watching the dawn.

He's completely at ease with himself and the moment, as if he's the main character of the movie and my presence is just a tiny, unimportant detail of the story.

While to me his presence is everything. I can't seem to stop watching his every move with greedy eyes, and even the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes is too distracting.

I wish we could just stay like this forever. With him watching the early dawn with an intense gaze, and me - watching him.

However, I don't survive the temptation to ruin his movie scene moment.

Closing the space between us, I pull the joint out of his grip before he can even place it between his lips again.

Connor glares at me but doesn't complain, which, if I'm being honest, is kind of disappointing and surprising. I was expecting more from him.

Is he being gentle with me after tonight's events? First helping me out, then lending me his bed, and now holding back his snarky comments and cutting down on his cruelty.

My lips wrap around the joint he had between his moments ago, and I think my subconsciousness takes off her coat dramatically and breaks into a dance in a tutu dress when she realizes this is an indirect kiss. It definitely is!

The first drag makes me cough, because dammit, I've never done this before! I've never even tried to smoke a cigarette. Why did I even think this was a good idea?

As I try to calm the hell down and recover from all the coughing, I don't look at him because I'm pretty sure he has a mocking expression on his face, probably thinking I'm some kind of a snob.

But neither do I give up.

So, once I've calmed down, I try again and AGAIN break into a round of coughing.

I start to feel like a naive failure getting embarrassed in front of her crush when I hear a foreign sound next to me and freeze.

It's Connor... chuckling?

CHUCKLING!

He's laughing at me softly, and the sound of it is so beautiful I want to die.

This is the first time since we met again, that he's genuinely laughing around me. It's the painful reminder of the old times when he'd only share his precious laughs with ME.

But his voice is so mature and deep now, it makes me feel like I'm starting to get to know him all over again. Even though he's just 2 years older than me, his voice is different than anyone I've ever known, and the sound of it makes my heart race as I stare at him dumbfounded.

His voice is throaty, rough, and insanely sexy, but when he's talking to me it's also cold. Sometimes, when he talks to me, I can't even tell what he's feeling.

But not now.

"You can't even smoke the shit, why try?" He asks, the side of his mouth curled into a tiny smile, as if he finds me... amusing.

I caught again, but this time from his unexpected reaction to me, and he chuckles, shaking his head at me.

I'm sorry, am I dreaming?

Am I freaking dreaming?

"You're not," I hear him say and realize I've said it out loud. Shoot!

My eyes practically jump out of their sockets, when his teasing smile disappears just as fast, as he takes a slow but confident step toward me.

His scent invades my space, the warmth of his body paralyzes mine, and suddenly my lungs forget how to function.

He doesn't give me a second to get used to his closeness or find my ability to breathe, as he leans in and slips the joint from between my fingers.

"You can hold it like this," he says with a small frown between his eyebrows, as his hand slowly brings the joint up to my lips.

I'm staring between his hand and his face the whole time, my mouth almost touching the floor.

What's his plan? Is he doing this to me on purpose? Is he hoping I die of a cardiac arrest?

"Don't be nervous," he says, his voice low, as the joint, he holds with his thumb and pointer finger pushes between my slightly parted lips. "Take a deep breath, inhale softly ... just like that. Now, use your cheeks to draw the smoke into your mouth for a second."

I do as he instructs, wrapping my lips around it and staring into his eyes.

All the while his green eyes are holding mine intensely, daring me to look away or stop him, but I don't. I've never backed away from a challenge and he knows it.

"Now exhale. Slowly, as if you're meditating, " he tells me and pulls the joint out of my lips.

I close my eyes for a second and exhale gently.

A small smile lands on my lips when I realize I've just taken my first joint without coughing. I open my eyes and start to beam at him with a huge smile, only to find his dark eyes on my lips.

Before I can comprehend what's happening his free hand reaches for my mouth, his thumb tracing my lower lip sensually.

My smile drops to the floor, along with my heart and panties, as I shiver with a quick and loud breath.

Jesus Christ! He should be illegal.

As he keeps tracing the side of my lower lip, my breath quickens as if I'm standing on top of the highest cliff, ready to jump without knowing what's beneath me.

My eyes are on his face, while he watches his finger brush my full lip almost mesmerized.

The movement stirs an aching need inside me, and before I know it, my hand reaches to his forearm not to remove his hand, but to make sure he doesn't stop.

"Connor," I whisper with a breathless voice foreign to my ears. In fact, I barely even register it because of my loud heartbeat.

I realize this is the first time I'm affected like this by a touch.

The feelings I had for Connor when I was still young have been platonic, mild, and too weak compared to what I'm feeling right now.

What I feel for him now could destroy me. In fact, I know it will.

It's stronger, wilder, and crazier than anything I've experienced before.

I want him to need me as much as I need him, to get drunk on me, to think about no one else but me, to seek my scent everywhere, to touch only me, to let me consume his mind and heart like he's slowly consuming mine.

I want him to undress me and show me all the things he's no doubt done to many girls, and I want him to do it now.

I need him to promise me that he'll never look at anyone else the way he's looking at me right now... like he'll burn down the world if he can't have me.

"Connor," I mumble again, pathetic and desperate for him to do something about the aching inside me.

God, how could a simple touch set me on fire like this and make me forget every other existence but his?

When my lips close around his finger, my teeth giving it a tiny tag, his dark eyes find mine. He holds my desperate browns with his confident greens, a slow smirk slowly forming on his lips.

"I could kiss you right now and you'd let me, even though you've got that pathetic boyfriend of yours. Now, tell me, Little Monster, am I wrong?"

My hold on his arm tightens as if a pleading sign for him to follow through his... Threat? Promise?  I don't know what the hell it is, all I know is that I liked it and I'm both ashamed and terrified to admit it.

His eyes hold my pleading ones, waiting for an answer, which I'm not sure I can form.

He moves his hand, capturing the side of my cheek with the same thumb tracing my skin there and his other hand holding the joint.

"It's a yes or no question, Mia. Am I wrong?" He asks leaning into me so the tip of his aristocratic nose now touches mine.

Please, just kiss me already, I pray in my head.

I'm going to make it so mindblowing, you'll never be able to forget or find it with someone else.

I close my eyes trying to feel him to my bones and then, after a second I feel myself shake my head slightly, almost unwillingly, but who the hell am I kidding? I will not stop him no matter what.

The answer to his question comes deep within me and I don't know how to control myself when he's so close to me, touching and playing me like a cello.

I wait for his lips to brush mine and steal my breath, but that never happens.

My eyes fly open, ready to glare at him annoyed when suddenly everything around me goes dark.

He's staring down at me with a victorious smirk on his lips as if he's a deity and I am just a sinner worshiping him in his sanctuary.

"You really thought I was going to kiss you, didn't you?" He whispers, every word full of hatred and cruelty, while I stare at him disoriented and shattered.

He played me. He freaking played me!

How could I let this happen, how could I surrender to his touch and let him use me like this?

Angry tears start to burn the back of my eyes as I will myself not to cry in front of him. He doesn't deserve to see any of my emotions.

"You're so naive and yet screwed up, Mia. So. Damn. Rotten." He says, stressing the last three words with a gentle stroke of his thumb against my cheek. How can his touch be the complete opposite of his vicious words and the way his eyes try to kill my soul. "Too bad you're still just a fleeting memory to me."

I grab his wrist violently and remove his hand off of my cheek, trying to alleviate the burn of his words.

Stupid me for not seeing through his facade and letting me trick me into believing that we've gotten close after tonight. Believing he's started to think about me, the way I think about him all the time.

I want to ignore the hurt he's just caused me with his words and only concentrate on his actions, concentrate on his alarmed eyes when he found me trapped between the bathroom door and Isaac's body, concentrate on his gentle touch when he asked me if I was okay, on his protectiveness when he hugged me the other day in the middle of nowhere.

I do, but it's damn hard to concentrate on his actions when right now his words are the ones that kill me.

I take a step back from him, to put the distance I desperately need between our bodies and finally breathe.

"Come morning, gather your shit and get the fuck out of my room. And don't leave anything behind, I plan to fuck someone once you're out of my hair, so don't count on coming back, because you're not."

My palm makes contact with his right cheek with a loud snap, my eyes cold and my heart racing under my chest.

"Go to hell, you, cruel son of a bitch." I spit out before storming past him and bumping his shoulder on my way out, hoping to make some demage.

I don't wait for the Sun to set high up in the sky. I gather my things in a hurry and run out of his room as if the devil himself is after me.

But he's not.

The devil is standing on his balcony all dark and almighty, watching me leave as he keeps smoking the joint that was between my lips minutes ago.

He thinks he's won a war, but the devil's forgotten - angels should be feared too.