by Bella Court
"Hey,” she replied, not bothering to pretend like she didn't see him. "I didn't know you smoked," Kristen observed, watching with fascination as he flicked the ashes. They floated to the ashtray, the white particles glowing.
"I don't, just the occasional cigar. Does it bother you?" Connor asked, putting out the cigar.
Kristen shook her head vigorously. He looked so sophisticated and mature leaning against the wall, smoking his cigar. It was actually kind of…attractive.
There was a beat of silence before Connor asked, "Do you want to get out of here?"
Kristen was slightly surprised. Whatever she was expecting him to say, it wasn't that. She opened her mouth instantly to say yes, when the image of a pretty brunette brutally assaulted her mind.
"What happened to that brunette girl you had hanging off your arm?" Kristen asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Connor smirked as he pushed off from the wall, walking closer to her.
"Are you jealous?"
"Not even close," Kristen shot back instantly, her head pounding. She didn't want to deal with this right now.
"Good, because you shouldn't be. I don't even know her name. I'm not interested in her."
"That's great," Kristen drawled sarcastically. Connor's eyes instantly darkened.
"Why don't you cut the act? I heard your conversation with John,” Connor said callously, as Kristen grimaced. The wounds were still fresh. Somehow, she wasn't surprised he knew about it. What did the invincible Connor Wilde not know?
"So you were eavesdropping on us. What do you want me to do? Throw myself into your arms and sob uncontrollably about how your brother doesn't love me? No thank you. I'm not a damsel in distress, and you're not my knight in shining armor." This time, it was Connor's turn to grimace at her choice of words.
"Look, I'm not trying to get into a fight with you. All I wanted to know was if you wanted to get out of here, I'd take you home. But since your mouth seems to still be able to run nonstop…I guess you're okay." Connor turned away from her, intending to head back into the club and get a drink.
"Wait." Her soft voice stopped him. She didn't sound bitchy any longer. He turned around to face her. She wasn't looking at him. She had her head turned wistfully to the side, and she looked so lost.
"Let's get out of here. Anywhere. Except my apartment. I don't want to be there right now. Please."
It was the combination of the look in her eyes, and the soft way she said please that did him in. At that moment, he doubted he could deny her anything she asked of him.
"Let's go say bye to Jade first." Connor told her, gently placing an arm around her shoulders, to steer her towards the dance floor, where Jade and Reece were dancing.
She shivered against the feel of his strong arms around her shoulders, and leaned closer to his warmth. Connor noticed her shivering, and without a second thought, he pulled off his Armani jacket and placed it around her shoulders. She felt a rush of longing go through her as his warm arms left the comfort of her body, but his jacket was a nice consolation prize, as well. Dark, spicy notes of plum and musk infiltrated her senses and sent rushes of exhilaration through her, and his body heat still lingered on the jacket.
Coming into view of the dance floor, Kristen's jaw dropped. Right smack in the middle of the dance floor, Jade had her arms looped around Reece's neck, and his hands were on her waist, as they swayed to the slow song. He leaned down to whisper something in her ear, and she let out what appeared to be a giggle.
"When did that happen?" Kristen asked, stupefied. Connor shrugged, amused by what he saw. The song ended, and placing his arms around her once more, he reluctantly steered her in Reece and Jade's direction.
"Hey, Jade. Kristen's feeling kind of tired, I'm going to take her back to her apartment." Connor's lie was so smooth and effortless, while Kristen was still feeling tongue tied from what she saw. Jade's face lit up at the sight of Kristen, and she blushed slightly when she realized she was still in Reece's arms. Quickly disentangling herself from Reece, much to his reluctance, she made her way to Kristen and enveloped her in an overly enthusiastic hug.
"Where have you been? I was looking for you, but then….stuff happened. Are you okay?" Jade's liveliness actually cheered Kristen up a bit, but no one could mistake that haunting look in her eyes.
Weakly, Kristen managed a nod. "Just tired. I'm sorry to have to leave your bash early."
Vehemently, Jade shook her head, "No, go home and rest. Thanks for everything, Kristen. I love ya." And with those parting words, Kristen left with Connor to go anywhere but the apartment where she once lived with John.
The car ride in Connor's BMW was silent but comfortable as neither one of them felt the need to disturb the silence. Kristen and Connor wouldn't have preferred it any other way.
"Where are we?" Kristen finally asked, as Connor pulled into the well-lit garage in a plaza complex not far from where she lived.
"My place,” Connor said shortly, as he parked the car.
Kristen followed him into the elevator, and just from the looks of the elevator, she knew that his place was no ordinary bachelor pad. The elevator was golden and gilded, and there was even a bellhop that pressed the buttons for whichever floor they needed to go to.
"Mr. Wilde," the bellhop acknowledged with a cheery grin, and looking at Kristen, he slightly bowed his head in greeting.
Kristen could feel her stomach churning for some reason. She was nervous, and it was growing with every floor they passed. They were already on the ninth floor.
Incredulously, she turned to Connor, but he answered her unspoken question, "We're almost there. I live on the top floor."
The elevator chimed, and the steel doors slid open. "This is your floor. Have a good night sir. You too, ma'am." The bellhop leered at Kristen as she passed, and she glared at him in return. With horror, she realized what this must have looked like to him.
"Oh my God, he thinks I'm a prostitute," Kristen muttered beneath her breath, and at that, Connor chuckled.
"You don't look anything like a prostitute,” he said, unlocking the door to his apartment, one of two on the top floor.
"He leered at me. Maybe he thought I was some kind of high class hooker for businessmen like you."
Connor laughed again, as he opened the door, flicking on the lights to his apartment. Kristen stepped in, instantly impressed. Her interior decorating side kicked in, as she looked at the red brick walls of his apartment. That mixed with the contemporary all black furniture made it all look very sleek and modern.
"Nice apartment," Kristen whistled.
"Paid a ton for it, it better look good," Connor muttered, unbuttoning his shirt, as he made his way towards his bedroom. "Make yourself at home," He commanded, as he closed the door to his bedroom.
Kristen stood around awkwardly. She said she didn't want to go home, but she wasn't so sure she felt so comfortable here, either. Sex usually was the thing that made her feel better about herself, but tonight, sex was the last thing she wanted. Is that what he was expecting from her?
"Hey." He emerged from his bedroom in a pair of green plaid boxers and a white tee shirt, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "I don't want to have sex!"
Connor's eyebrows lifted in amusement. "Who said I want sex? I'm tired, and you're…not in the right state, anyways. Here are some clothes for you to change into." He tossed the smallest clothes he could find in his closet her way, hitting her squarely in the face.
"Bathroom's that way." Connor jabbed his finger in the direction of the bathroom, as he sunk into the leather couch, turning the plasma screen on the wall on to ESPN. She was still standing there, surprised, as he took in the score of the latest football game. "Are you going to change or do you plan on sleeping in that pretty dress of yours?" Connor asked, not taking his eyes off the screen.
"What'd you bring me here for, if you didn't want sex?" Kristen could find no other way to ask it. Every time they were together, it seemed like al
l they could do was argue or have sex.
Connor stared at her incredulously. "Are you kidding me? You wanted a place to stay besides your apartment, so I brought you here. I'm not some kind of sex-crazed lunatic. I'm not expecting any kind of sexual favors from you in return for your stay, but hey, if you're offering something else than sex…"
Kristen scoffed in disgust, and turned away, heading for the bathroom. Moments later, she plopped down on the couch next to Connor. For a good fifteen minutes, she just watched blankly as score after score came up on the television.
"Thank you,” she said finally, and Connor turned to face her. Even in his smallest college t-shirt and pair of boxers, she still looked so miniscule. She had taken her hair out of her bun, letting it float about her shoulders in messy disarray. Her makeup was gone, leaving her looking much younger than she actually was. Her mouth was lilted up into a wistful and sad smile, and seeing her in his clothes made him feel like he needed to protect her even more.
"You want to talk about it?” he asked gruffly, turning off the television.
"I'm not drunk enough to talk about it. Got any liquor?"
Wordlessly, he pointed at his alcohol cabinet. Kristen stood up and perused over his collection for a moment, before returning to the couch with a bottle of Tequila and a bottle of Vodka and two shot glasses in her hands.
Pouring herself a shot of Vodka, she downed it, her eyes watering as the burning liquid trailed its way down her throat, and instantly, she was hit with that familiar dizzying sensation that lead to tipsiness.
"How much did you hear?” she asked, pouring another shot and handing it to Connor this time. He quirked a brow questioningly at the liquor. "Come on, it's no fun to get drunk by yourself. You have to do it with me! What's the point of having all this liquor if you can't get drunk off your ass with your friends?"
"Are we friends?" Connor asked with amusement, taking the shot from her, and tipping his head back quickly to drink it.
He didn't drink often, but he drank enough to know that there were three types of drunks. The first types were the people who went completely crazy and lost all inhibition and would probably end up on a Girls Gone Wild video or something of the sort. The second types were the angry drunks. They liked to rage at the world and scream about how everyone was out to screw them over. The third types were the sad people. They usually wound up drinking because they wanted to forget about what was bringing them down, but the drinking usually only made it worst. They liked to cry and bemoan about anything and everything. Knowing Kristen, she would probably be a mix of all three.
Kristen shrugged, as she readied herself for another shot. "We're something, that's for damn sure,” she tipped the shot glass in his direction, before taking the lethal shot. That second one was a killer. She hadn't had much to eat before they headed out to the club, so the second shot really sent her head reeling.
She leaned her head back against the couch, enjoying the feeling flowing through her that everything was all right…So long as she had this endless supply of alcohol to keep her company.
Connor murmured in agreement, as he leaned forward to pour another shot. "All I heard was the last part. When he asked if you ever loved him."
Kristen groaned, as he reminded her of that conversation. "God, why'd joo hafta bring that up?" Kristen slurred slightly. She let loose a heavy sigh, draping her hand dramatically on her forehead. Then, she let out an almost frightening laugh that bounced off the walls of Connor's apartment.
"He thought I didn't love him. Isn't that rich? Would I have fucking agreed to marry him if I didn't love him?" she demanded, snatching the shot Connor had just poured out of his hand and drinking it before Connor could protest. He glared at her, as he poured himself another shot to make up for the one she took, and drank it before she could steal it.
"I gave him the best years of my life!" Kristen continued, and Connor had to stifle a laugh at that clichéd line.
"Aren't you a little young to be saying stuff like that?" He wasn't even tipsy yet, but he was beginning to feel the beginning of what felt like a really good buzz.
"I'm twenty-six-years old, and I'm on the verge of spinsterhood and I'm damaged goods. I mean, have you seen me lately? I can't even stomach to look at myself in the mirror anymore! How can other people possibly manage to do it?" Kristen moaned hysterically. Connor was beginning to see that Kristen was definitely one of those drunks who were both funny and angry when they were drunk. It was definitely a side he liked.
"You're not very hard to look at, Kristen," Connor told her, slapping her hand away as she reached for more to drink. Quickly, he tallied up how many drinks she had in his head. She had three straight shots of vodka and tequila already. If she had anymore, she'd be feeling like hell in the morning. "I think that's enough for you. You're sloshed as it is."
"I don't think you're smashed enough," Kristen muttered, laying her head in Connor's lap, so that she was looking straight up at the ceiling.
Connor shrugged and took another shot, his third. He still wasn't drunk, but he had a good buzz going. "What do you mean by you're damaged goods?" Connor asked, playing with the ends of her ebony hair.
Kristen let out another throaty laugh. Everything suddenly seemed to be so funny. "I mean, who would want me now? John fucked me up, you know that? He did a great job on fucking me over but not in the good way."
She paused, and it seemed like for a brief moment, she had returned to sobriety. Her eyes flickered with a sudden sadness, and her eyes were filled with such an intense melancholy, that it took Connor's breath away.
It was that look that made him realize the reason why he wanted her so badly. She made him feel alive. In his life filled with business meetings and meaningless people, she shook him to the core. She made him feel more emotions than he thought he was capable of in the span of two weeks. Even with all her crazy emotional baggage, she was more human than any other person he had ever met.
He wasn't so drunk or deluded to think that he loved her yet, but he cared for her, he wanted to protect her, and he wanted to know her.
"What we had wasn't perfect. I know that now." Kristen's voice cracked a little, as she started talking. "But I was happy with what we had, and if he wasn't…he should have said something."
"I think he was happy with you, at the time,” Connor said carefully, trying not to hurt her anymore. Soothingly, he ran his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. She leaned into his touch and made small mewling sounds.
"At the time,” she sounded so far away. "He accused me of being a complicated, ice bitch,” she bitterly informed Connor. "And he said that I was afraid to love him."
"I'm not, am I?" She looked up into Connor's eyes, eyes that were so much like John's but weren't. Connor's eyes were so deep and soulful, and she felt protected just by looking into his eyes.
"You aren't what?" Connor asked, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.
"A complicated ice bitch,” she sniffled, her voice cracking once more. "Because I swear, I don't mean to be. It's just not like me to wear my heart on my sleeve!" She was beginning to cry, and Connor clutched her close to him, as she held on tightly to his shirt.
"I feel so used, you know? He was with me, and then he threw me away to be with my best friend. She was my best friend, and she threw away a lifelong friendship to be with the man I loved." Her eyes glittered with tears, and slowly, one dropped from her eyes, running alongside her face.
"And you know what kills me the most," Kristen choked out, covering her face with her hands, "is that if they would have just told me from the beginning that they had feelings for each other, I would have stepped aside. I would have been hurt, but I would have stepped aside. Because I loved him, and I loved her, I would have stepped aside! And that's just what makes what they did all the worse.” She was bawling now, and Connor was cradling her against his chest, rocking her back and forth. His chest tightened painfully for all the pain she was feeling, and he gently rocked her b
ack and forth, until she stopped crying. Her breathing was beginning to slow, and her eyelids were starting to flicker. She looked like she was about to fall asleep. Slowly, Connor brushed the tears from her face. His touch must have caused her to wake up a bit, because her eyes opened, and she looked hazily up at Connor.
"Connor?"
"Yeah, gorgeous?"
"You're an asshole."
Connor threw his head back in laughter, so she was back to her funny, angry drunkenness again.
"Go to sleep, Kristen."
"I'm not done, yet!" She pouted adorably, making a face that made her look like she was an eleven-year-old girl who hadn't gotten her way. "You're waaaaaaaay too into your business, you're a playboy, and you're so smooth and charming that it makes me wanna vomit! Buuut…,” she drew out the last word, and she gave him a pretty smile that he was sure she was only giving him because she was drunk. "I like you, anyways."
And with those parting words, she fell asleep with a pristine smile on her face, and her head lay gently in Connor's lap.
Chapter Seven
Hazy.
Everything was totally hazy, and yet she felt so warm and soft. Moaning, she buried herself deeper into the pillow, when she felt her pillow begin to stir beneath her.
"Muh?" She craned her neck upwards, only to find all of her senses suddenly assaulted by this new and foreign environment.
This so wasn't her Park Avenue apartment with its red brick walls and hardwood flooring. This black leather couch definitely wasn't her bed with her big fluffy, quilted comforter, and Connor Wilde's lap definitely wasn't her usual pillow.
Groggily, she lifted her head off his lap. He had to sleep in a sitting position on the couch, since she was lying in his lap, and he did not look comfortable. She couldn't help but crack a smile at how adorable he looked. His dark hair had fallen messily over his eyes, and being the annoying boy he was, he had ridiculously long eyelashes that Kristen would kill for. He was completely knocked out, but one vital part of his anatomy was definitely not asleep, and it had previously been poking Kristen in the head, since she had been rolling and moving around so much.