Page 84 of Conquering Conner
How many of them do you think he’s fucked?
So many that his last name is a euphemism for anonymous bathroom sex.
“Henley?” He says my name again, pushing himself out of the doorway, starting toward me.
Before he takes more than two steps I spin on my heels and start walking. Shoving myself back into the crush of bodies, I concentrate on putting as much distance between us as possible.
“Henley.” He’s shouting at me now, right behind me. “Goddamn it—” He snags my elbow and hauls me back, turning me to face him. “What’s wrong?” He pulls me close, bending his head to get a closer look at me. He looks concerned. Confused. “Are you—” He must see it on my face—what I thought. How it made me feel. What I want—because he gets that look again. The same look he got that night in his shower. The look that makes me feel like I spit on him, but before I can even begin to feel bad about it, it’s gone. Replaced with a look I’ve never seen before. One that scares the shit out of me.
“Alright then.” The hand on my elbow tightens like a vise, squeezing so hard it almost hurts. “Let’s get on with it,” he says, right before he turns and starts to move.
He’s heading for the bathroom and dragging me behind him.
