Page 41 of Bozo

GRÁINNE

I’m tired. God, I’m so fucking tired. It’s been two weeks and I haven’t recovered from the loss of my dad. I went to his funeral, something I did without having Connor at my side. That’s not something I had ever imagined would happen, but I couldn’t—can’t—bring myself to see him right now. I’m hurt. Christ, I’m heartbroken.

Having sex with Connor was never supposed to happen. He’s my best friend, and we were drunk, but we both knew better. Nothing good would ever come from us fucking, but we were stupid—ironic, given the fact that Connor’s a damn genius. Now, I’m trying to find a way to overcome the heartache so we can get back to being friends.

As I unlock the door to my apartment, I'm already fantasizing about a hot shower and crawling into bed. But as soon as I step inside, I freeze. Connor is sitting on my couch, his elbows resting on his knees as he looks up at me.

"Jaysus!" I cry, my hand flying to my chest. "You scared the shite out of me, Con. How did you get in here?"

He holds up a key. "You gave me this, remember? For emergencies."

I bite my lip, cursing myself for forgetting about that. "This isn't an emergency," I say coldly, dropping my bag and keys on the side table.

"The hell it isn't," he growls, standing up. "You've been avoiding me for two weeks, Gráinne. Two fucking weeks. That's not like you."

“I’ve spoken to you,” I remind him. “We’ve talked almost every day.”

He scowls at me. “Talked yeah, but you’ve not let me see you.”

I cross my arms over my chest, trying to keep my emotions in check. "I've been busy. And grieving. In case you forgot, I just buried my father."

His expression softens slightly. "I know, Sunshine. And I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you. But you wouldn't let me."

"Because I needed space," I snap. "I needed time to process everything without complications."

"Complications?" he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. "Is that what I am to you now? A complication?"

I close my eyes, willing the tears not to fall. "Con, please. Can we not do this right now? I'm exhausted."

He takes a step closer, his eyes burning with intensity. "No, we need to talk about this. I'm tired of you shutting me out."

I feel my resolve weakening. God, I've missed him. Even with all the hurt and confusion, he's still my best friend. The one person I want to turn to when everything falls apart.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice cracking. "I just... I didn't know how to face you after what happened."

His expression softens. "Grá, you don't ever have to hide from me. No matter what." He reaches out, gently cupping my face in his hands. I lean into his touch instinctively, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. "I fucked up," he says softly. "Ishouldn't have left like that. I shouldn't have made you feel like it didn't mean anything."

My heart races at his words. "Didn't it?" I ask, hating how vulnerable I sound.

He leans in, resting his forehead against mine. “It meant fucking everything, but what we have, it’s too fucking good to ruin by dating.”

I swallow hard. He’s right. As much as it hurts to admit. Dating would be one huge fucking complication, and if things went wrong, we’d end up hating one another, and that’s not something I want happening.

I feel my heart clench at his words. He's right, but it still hurts. I take a shaky breath, trying to steady myself.

"So what do we do now?" I ask softly, my eyes searching his.

Connor's thumbs gently stroke my cheeks. "We go back to how things were.”

“Friends,” I say with a nod.

His eyes brighten, and the smirk that forms on his face has butterflies forming in my stomach. “Friends with benefits?” he asks with a raised brow.

Can I do that? Can I push aside my feelings and have sex with him time and time again and watch him walk away?

"I don't know, Con," I say softly, biting my lip. "That could get complicated real fast."

His eyes darken as they focus on my mouth. "Only if we let it," he murmurs, his thumb gently tracing my bottom lip. "We're both adults. We can handle it."

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