Stuck In Savannah

2. What Connor Doesn't Know

Chapter 2: What Connor Doesn’t Know…

I returned a couple of minutes later, dropped the bags by the door, and went back into the living room only to find Connor in the same spot I’d left him.

“So,” I started, barely containing my palpable excitement as I stood in front of Connor, blocking his view from the TV, so he could look at me and stop pretending I was not even there, “what are we doing?”

He was still refusing to look at me even as I made it pretty damn hard for him to ignore me. When he did choose to acknowledge me, he glared up at me darkly, like I was a home invader instead of his friend and once girlfriend.

“We,” he grunted, obviously displeased with me for one reason or another (a hint: I did sort of move in with him against his will), “are not doing anything. I’m going to watch the game and then take a nap, and you,” he said, using the TV remote to point at me, as if I didn’t know whom he might’ve meant by that, “are going to stay out of my way.”

Then he lowered the remote, glanced away from me, and scooted over to the left, so he could watch the game he was speaking of, turning up the volume to the max.

Obviously, hangover didn’t look good on him. It made him even crankier than usual.

I rolled my eyes at his childishness before I grabbed the remote out of his hands and turned the TV off, earning myself another mean glare from Connor, but at least he didn’t lung for my throat, so that was a start.

“Don’t be such a grouch,” I told him, finding his behavior slightly annoying since he wasn’t sharing my excitement in the least bit, “there are fates worse than living with me.”

“Are there?” he asked, suspicion coloring his voice as he raised one dark eyebrow at me jokingly, but I chose to ignore the look he was sending me for his sake.

“Besides,” I began, throwing the remote in the air carelessly, “you owe me this much for breaking up with me,” I said convincingly and judging by the pained look on Connor’s face, I guessed I’d hit bull’s eye with this.

“Not this again,” he all but howled in pain and I could see his eyes rolling back in his head, “are you still holding this over me?” he queried, but I didn’t know why he was wasting his breath since he obviously knew my answer hadn’t changed since the last time he asked me. I held the mother of all grudges.

“Of course I am,” I told him just like he knew I would since I’d been singing the same songs for ages now and didn’t plan on changing my tune anytime soon, “do I have to remind you that a week after you broke up with me, you were already going out with that skank Sarah Michelson?”

A skank that spread all sorts of nasty rumors about me, no less… and one that claimed I’d given Connor a STD, which was a vile lie of the worst kind.

“How could I forget,” Connor wondered, his face devoid of any emotion, “since you keep reminding me every single day of my life?”

I detected the challenge in his voice, but I was cool with it. I’d, after all, made a habit out of rubbing this piece of information into his face whenever an opportunity arose…and even when it didn’t. I always struck a chord with him and this was supposed to be a sore subject for me, not him.

I shrugged, not really caring anymore. The past was in the past.

“Then shut up and do what you’re asked,” I said, throwing the remote back at him and he caught it swiftly in the air, his reflexes kicking in. “Where are Marie and Carl?” I asked next, alluding to his parents, whom I honestly adored and considered a family. I think Connor’s mom took our break-up harder than I did.