The first time Connor Kavanagh kissed you in public, it was in the kitchen of somebody else’s house.
Music too loud. Red cups everywhere. His hand sliding around your waist like it belonged there while his friends kept talking over the top of you both.
Like it was normal.
Like you were normal.
And maybe that should’ve been your first warning.
Because Connor only ever touched you like he meant it when nobody was paying close attention.
Afterward, he walked you home with his hoodie over your shoulders, fingers linked lazily with yours.
At your door, he kissed you again — slower this time, forehead resting against yours afterward.
“You’re staying, right?” you whispered.
Connor smiled a little. “For a bit.”
For a bit.
That became the entire relationship.
He slept in your bed but never kept anything there.
Called you pretty but never called you his.
Showed up whenever he wanted affection, disappeared whenever things started feeling real.
Like your body didn’t know the shape of his already. Like he hadn’t once held you after sex so gently you nearly cried.
And you let him.
God, you let him.
You told yourself it meant something.
That maybe he just didn’t know how to love properly.
That maybe the way his eyes softened when he looked at you counted for more than the fact he never called you his girlfriend.
Relationships had rules.
And the biggest one was that only one person was allowed to care too much.
You became good at pretending.
“You okay?” your friend asked one night while you sat on her bathroom counter at a party, staring at your phone.
| Connor xx *| Im outside. Come out.
Three words and your heart still jumped like he owned it.
“Yeah,” You lied quietly. “I’m fine.”
But you weren’t.
Because Connor only wanted you when it was convenient.
And somehow, even knowing that, you still grabbed your jacket and went outside.
He was leaning against his car when you found him, hands tucked behind his pockets, dark curls messy from the wind.
“There she is,” He said softly.
Like you were exactly who he’d been waiting for.
Your chest tightened instantly.
Connor stepped closer, fingers brushing your waist beneath your hoodie. Familiar. Warm. Dangerous.
“You disappeared.”
“I was inside.”
“Hm.” His eyes flicked over your face. “Missed you.”
You shrugged. “You were busy.”
Busy flirting with another girl in the kitchen.
Busy pretending you weren’t standing three feet away watching it happen.
Connor frowned slightly, like he genuinely didn’t understand why you were upset.
“C’mere.”
You hated that your body listened before your brain did.
He pulled you between his knees, arms wrapping around your waist. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Don’t do that.”
Confusion etched on his face, a frown settling in his beautiful features. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You act like I matter only when it’s convenient for you.”
“That’s not fair. It’s not what happens.”
“It is.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “We said casual.”
“You said casual. You think this feels casual to me?”
“I never lied to you.”
The words landed hard because technically, he was right.
He never promised forever. Never promised commitment. Never promised anything at all.
You were just stupid enough to build meaning out of crumbs.
“I know that,” you said, voice thinner now.
Connor’s expression shifted slightly then. Less defensive. More worried.
“I can’t keep doing this,” You admitted quietly.
His thumb brushed over your skin once.
“You want me to stop coming around?”
No.
You wanted him to stay. To choose you properly. To stop making you feel temporary.
But Connor Kavanagh looked at you like someone standing in front of a fire they wanted warmth from without getting burned.
And you were tired of being the one left hurting.
So you forced yourself to step back.
And for the first time since you met him, Connor looked genuinely lost.