Page 40 of Cold and Broken (The Titans of Founder's Ridge 1)

The one relationship I’m not sure how to understand is with Connor. He hates me one minute and wants me the next. He treats me like shit and then turns around and defends my honor. He acts as confused as I feel. I know he’s as attracted to me as I am to him. I feel it when we kiss. I feel it in the heat of his eyes, even when they’re on my back. Am I a toy or am I treasured?

13

Lilith

If I had a superpower right now it’d be avoidance. I managed to avoid Connor Saturday night when he crashed with Levi. All day Sunday when dad and I went into Boston in search of a Bears bar to watch the game. Even Sunday night when Connor came knocking on my door while I treated myself to long bath. I crept around the estate the rest of the time like a damn assassin trying to stay unseen by those gorgeous green eyes. I have a string of text messages that go from mild annoyance to frustration to anger to disbelief.

Connor: What ru doing today? Can we talk?

Connor: ??

Connor: Lilith.

The fact that he used my name threw me enough to almost respond. But no.

Connor: We have things 2 discuss.

Connor: Damnit Peasant WE NEED 2 TALK

There’s the asshole we all know.

Connor: Dinner?

Connor: I KNOW U CAN SEE THESE UR READ RECEIPTS R ON

Connor: I can’t believe ur ghosting me

Connor: This isn’t over.

I might have won the weekend battle but as soon as I walk out the door Monday morning he’s leaning against the wall holding two cups of to go coffee. His hair is tousled to perfection. His face set in it’s usual scowl. We stand there staring each other down from across the hall. Our eyes conveying all the words we don’t have the courage to speak into existence.

Him: I missed you.

Me: I missed you, too.

Him: Don’t shut me out.

Me: You scare me.

Him: I want you.

Me: I want you, too.

I break the silence first. “Morning,” I clear my throat.

“Morning.” He reaches out a hand holding a cup. “Two sugars and a splash of cream.”

“Thank you.” I’m surprised and irritatingly touched he knows how I take my coffee.

“Don’t act so surprised. We do live under the same roof,” he growls. “Not that you’d know it by how hard you’ve been avoiding me the past 32 hours.”

“You are so creepy,” I chuckle. “Have you actually been counting the hours since you last spoke to me?”

“Yes,” he answers so nonchalantly, like he is the normal one.

“Obsess much?”

“Only over those who are worthy. Stop.” He grabs my wrist. “Things are going to be different now that everyone knows you are mine.”

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