Taking Connor

“To make a long story short, he returned three more times and sat at my table all night asking over and over for my number. Finally, I gave it to him.” I shrug and take a gulp from my beer.

“What finally made you give in?”

I stare down at the bottle of beer in my hand and smile. “Blake was . . . refreshing. He wasn’t like other men I had met. Sometimes I think meeting him was a punishment, and sometimes I think it was a gift,” I admit.

“Punishment?” Connor asks, his voice going deep.

“It’s not fair to have known someone so great and have them taken away so soon.”

Connor nods in understanding before taking a sip of his beer. “There wasn’t one letter he wrote to me where he didn’t talk about you, ya know?” he says, and I frown. Blake adored me. I was so lucky to find that in my life even if it was only for a short time.

After we finish dinner, Connor insists on paying. I have no idea where he got the money from, but I don’t want to insult him, so I don’t argue. When I stand, he remains sitting and glances to the back of the restaurant. He’s looking for our waitress.

“You staying?” I question.

“Maybe for another drink or two,” he answers, his gaze meeting mine. “But I can walk you back.” He moves to stand, and I place a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

“It’s literally four hundred feet. I think I can make it,” I assure him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that, I leave wondering why I feel so . . . lonely. Clearly Connor is going to hook up with our waitress. And it will be a fun sex-filled night with no strings attached. I’ve never had a one night stand, but I can see the novelty of them. More so now than ever. My body wants something my heart isn’t really onboard to handle. Maybe I could do it. Find a one night lover, a faceless man to sate my need while protecting my heart simultaneously.

As I enter my hotel room, I decide to think about it a little more; not make any rash decisions.





When Connor emerges from his room the next morning, he looks like a brand new man. I look like death walking. His little hook up screeched all night as his headboard tapped against our adjoining walls.

“You okay?” he asks after taking a long stretch.

“Never better,” I mutter tiredly. His door swings open and our waitress from last night exits wrapped in nothing but a towel, her red hair billowing down her back. She smiles shyly at me, but when she looks at Connor, she bites her lip and gives him a knowing smile.

As she coils her arms around his waist, he looks to me awkwardly. “Uh . . . Demi I’ll meet you at the car. I’ll just be a minute,” he promises.

“By all means, take your time,” I mumble as I drag myself to my vehicle.

It takes ten minutes before I see Red walking barefoot across the parking lot to her car, carrying her shoes, and smiling ear to ear. They must have had a quickie. When Connor climbs in, he nods with a weird smile on his face. He knows I’m not stupid, and I know I’ve been sitting in a hot car while he either A, screwed Red’s brains out, or B, she sucked him off.

“Feeling better?” I tease as I start the car.

Scratching his head, he scrunches his face in embarrassment. “I’m sorry Demi. I’m not really that kind of guy, but . . .”

“Hey . . . eight years is a long time. I imagine anyone would be jonesing for some . . .” I stop myself. “Sorry,” I shake my head. “I just mean . . . I somewhat understand is all,” I explain stupidly. I’m babbling . . . why am I babbling?

“You do?” he questions.

Heat runs rampant across my face. “I mean . . . ya know . . . it’s been a while.”

“Oh,” he nods in understanding, his brows rising slightly.

“I mean . . . since before he died. He was really sick and on a lot of medication . . .”

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