Dancing With a Stranger - Connor McDavid

Three • Grayson

When we're safely in the car, I release a breath I didn't know I was holding. How did things go from bad to worse in the span of about 3 hours?

As we step into our apartment I notice a figure sitting on the couch and I jump up. "You scared me." I say.

Alissa goes straight to her room. "I'm going to my room, don't need me." She says as she waves a hand, still facing the door. Her way of saying 'I don't want to be part of it.'

Connor stands up and turns to face me. He looks nervous, as he slightly wrings his hands together. We both hesitate. Like we don't know who should speak first.

I was embarrassed. He was shocked.
It was honestly the weirdest situation we have been in together to date. Not even when he accidentally walked in on me naked and out of the shower when we were in high school. That was a whole other story.
And here we are, about to talk about what just went down at the bar or pretend it never happened.

"Did you mean what you said back there?" He says as I join him and fall back on the couch. I get comfortable before deciding to answer. I let him sit with the question on his tongue and it feels good. I want to be the one controlling the conversation. Not him.

"Gray..." He trails off and I finally get a good look at him. He looks like a wreck. It was probably one of his shittier nights. But he still looks like Connor. He still has a piece of himself from when he was just a kid, shooting pucks into a makeshift goal on concrete down the street. And I think that vulnerability I know he only shows me is what makes me crack. Connor is always so good at staying cool and collected. In front of media, fans, even family and teammates. I think I'm the only one who can actually tell what's going on with him.
So I answer, "Yeah I meant it. How could I not?" I bite my lip, chewing on the bottom. It was a nervous habit and Connor notices. His eyes trail over my face to my red lips that were slightly faded from the wear of the night. A few too many shots had made the colour bleed a bit. I stand up, suddenly uncomfortable again and needing to get a little bit of space so I could clear my head somewhat.
"Okay." He breathes.
"Okay? That's it? Okay?" I'm confused. That was not how I was expecting him to take this.

"I'm just kinda processing right now." He stands up too, looking at me with those big green eyes and I almost felt naked. The eye contact was scorching and it makes me nervous. But it's like a train wreck. I can't look away.
"Connor I can't keep doing this." I'm one second away from a breakdown and if he doesn't tread carefully I might just explode.
He slowly inches toward me and I look at his bruised and bandaged hands, covering mine. I know if I look up it's game over for me. The end.
"Doing what?" he asks brushing a thumb over the hollow of my cheek.
"I can't keep pretending. I don't know it's stupid. I should just go to bed." I let go and he lays his hands on my cheeks, forcing me to look at him fully.
"Hey. It's not stupid. Nothing is stupid coming from you. You could tell me the zombie apocalypse was coming and I would 100 % believe you and go with it."
I laugh. "No you wouldn't."
"You're right but you're ruining our moment." He chuckles.
"Our moment?" I ask smirking at him. Then ask the question I really want to. "Why did you even come for me at the club? You were almost possessive over me? If that even makes sense."

He stills for a moment, staring at me with a look in his eyes I've never seen before. And then he leans in. His lips ever so lightly touching mine. It's soft, and sweet. Like he doesn't want to rush anything. But I have other ideas.

I close the gap between us, the contours of his chest collide with mine. I guess that's all he needs to actually go for it. One arm circles my waist and the other lands in my hair, guiding me to where he wants me. It's so fucking hot, the way he takes control. The way his strong arms hold me in place against him sends a slight moan through me and he smiles against my lips. His mouth opens slightly, teasing me as I try to subtly slip my tongue in. My hands are in his hair and the length was perfect for me to grip onto. I work my fingers into the nape of his neck, playing with the tiny curls at the end, while he starts to walk us backward towards the couch. His lips are soft and full and I pull his bottom lip into my mouth, biting for a second before I release it. His tongue becomes exploratory, savoring each slow and tantalizing swipe of my mouth. What was once a soft sweet kiss turned into something more passionate.

We drop to the couch with a thud, both laughing against each others lips. He somehow ends up on top of me, his hands roaming my body, and slipping up beneath my shirt. The calluses on them graze the smooth skin of my hips and it feels amazing. He releases a throaty groan and I tilt my hips up a little bit.  The sound alone sends me reeling. I grab the hem of his shirt and start to lift it up when he pauses. He pulls back a little bit, lips swollen, eyes dazed and looking sexy as fuck.

"Gra-Gray, we can't." He was breathless and his brow furrows. I tilt my head trying to get him to meet my eyes and when he does I can see the fear in them. Fear of... I don't know what. Fear of being with me? Losing what we had? I don't think we could get it back after what just happened. It was either all in or all out.

I just want to know what he's thinking.
"Connor, it's okay, I want to." I say softly, putting it out on the line. I sit perched up on my knees on the couch and he looks hollow for a second.

Right now it seems like he's out.
He gets up quickly and heads for the door, his voice the shakiest I've ever heard it. "I'm sorry. I just- I just can't do this right now." And then he's gone.

For possibly the third time that night, I want to cry.

Alissa takes that moment to walk back into the living room.
"What I miss?" She asks.
I pause for a moment. "We kissed." I touch my lips as if it would help me remember the feeling and her eyes went wide. "And it was good. Like, really good. But then he just stopped and walked out, and now I'm confused."
"Did he say why he left?" She questions, going to the freezer to pull out the gallon of Blue Bell and plops it on the counter.
I follow her in there and pull two spoons out of the drawer. "He didn't look or act like he wasn't into it until I tugged at his shirt, and then he just said he couldn't do it after that and left."
I dug into the vanilla ice cream. "You think maybe he was scared? Or didn't want to ruin your friendship of, hmm I don't know, like eight years? I would probably freak the fuck out too."
"Yeah, I guess. I should talk to him right?" I mention, reaching for my phone on the counter. She snatches it before I could and with a mouth full of ice cream says, "No! Give him time. He'll call you I promise. The kid can't stay away from you for too long."

I slouch and take another bite, knowing she was right. If he wants to explain, he can call. But I mutter under my breath, "Yeah right."