Chapter 11| Connor Taylor [REWRITTEN]

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"take the road less traveled by, tell yourself you can always stop, what started in beautiful rooms, ends with meetings in parking lots"

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"take the road less traveled by, tell yourself you can always stop, what started in beautiful rooms, ends with meetings in parking lots"

illicit affairs • taylor swift

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    I couldn't get what had happened at the library out of my head. It just kept playing over and over in my mind like a broken record.

    The fact that Dakota and I had managed to exchange actual words without them being followed by fists wasn't even what surprised me. Nor was it the act of sharing personal information with one another. No, it was the fact that we'd nearly kissed that was sending my head spiralling down a tunnel of disbelief.

    Never in my life had I believed that I would ever kiss Dakota beyond the cloud of our clandestine affairs.

    Now, I was the guy who not only had undisclosed sex with Dakota Anderson – Captain of the very team I was trying to beat – but also nearly kissed him in plain sight after one rare and fleeting moment of mutual honesty.

    What, in the most basic definition of the word, was wrong with me?

    The hot water was well and truly gone by the time I stepped out of the shower that evening. Swiping a hand over the condensation on the mirror, I stared at my reflection as though it held the key to unlocking every confusing thought currently tripping through my head.

    Nothing. Not a single thing out of place amongst the same green eyes, brown hair, full lower lip, and thin, white scar running perpendicular to my left eyebrow from a bike accident when I was nine. How utterly infuriating.

    I blinked once, twice, knuckles turning white as I gripped the sink and resisted the urge to punch the mirror. How could I look exactly the same when my world had been completely up-ended in a matter of hours?

    Towelling myself dry roughly, I changed and stomped into my bedroom across the hall. My hair was still dripping at the ends as I ripped my phone from the charging dock and dove onto my bed, pulling up Dakota's Instagram, nonplussed that my account hadn't been blocked.

    Dakota's profile was, surprisingly, minimalist. Many people had tagged him in posts ranging from soccer games to parties to lunchtime squad photos in the courtyard, but very few had been posted by Dakota himself. Where there were all bright colours and joy in his friends' photos, Dakota's were brooding in shades of black, white and grey.

    The lack of sentimentality on his profile had me wondering if Dakota even really liked all the attention he received. Surely someone who ruled the teen hierarchy with an iron fist this big would have more to show for it on their socials. Was it exhausting to be at the top constantly? Did he ever want to escape it like me? I thought maybe it was impossible to not feel this way at some point in your life.

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