Forced Proximity (Bluebell House Duet Book 1)
Forced Proximity: Chapter 33

After hours of gaming, I went to bed utterly exhausted. Then woke up barely ninety minutes later and lay there wide-awake and staring at the ceiling for God only knew how long. When my mind started whirling into conspiracy theories about the Sullivan family, and the Crusades seeking revenge for the dead man in the woods, I decided to get up.

The house was silent and the creak of my footsteps felt painfully loud as I made my way down the hall past Brodie’s and Haze’s rooms.

I descended the stairs carefully, avoiding the steps that I knew had the worst squeaky patches, and the faint sounds of the TV trickled through from the living room as I drew closer.

Instinct told me it was likely Haze, watching more true crime shows, maybe Unsolved Mysteries, and I smiled with happy anticipation. It had been nice watching with him last time, but things were different now. We were closer, right? He touched me, without freaking out. That had to count for something. Maybe in the dark of the night we could talk about it?

I bypassed the living room and went to the kitchen to make myself a chamomile tea, attempting to calm my busy mind, then wandered back through to join him on the sofa.

Except…it wasn’t Haze watching TV with the volume so low it was almost muted.

“Oh. I thought you were…” I stood there, awkwardly staring with confusion. “Never mind. Sorry. I’ll just⁠—”

“Sit down, brat,” Connor growled, moving the cushion from the seat beside him in clear invitation.

Unable to make my brain do the braining thing, I just did as I was told and sat my ass down on the sofa beside Connor. I shifted around a little to get comfy, then took a sip of my tea while trying to work out what he was watching.

“Is this⁠—”

“Yes,” he snapped, cutting me off with a sharp side-scowl.

I quirked a brow, tilting my head to the side as I watched the old-school slasher flick playing on the huge TV with subtitles running. “Okay, no judgments here. This is a classic.”

He cast another sideways look my way, then sighed. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“What gave it away, Sherlock?” The snark slipped out without thought, and I pursed my lips after the fact. “Sorry. I’m getting somewhat irritated about the sleep situation. I might call my therapist tomorrow and get a new prescription for Trazadone.”

Connor just grunted, like he didn’t think it was a great idea but also didn’t want to argue about it. Instead, he turned the TV volume up a couple of clicks and we both returned our attention to the movie.

I’d be the first to admit, I fell for every damn jump scare in every scary movie and found it hard to keep my sarcastic comments to myself when the characters did particularly stupid things. Connor didn’t seem too bothered by my commentary, but I kept it mumbled, nonetheless.

When the Ghost Face killer appeared out of nowhere—for probably the fiftieth time—I flinched and gave a little squeal, nearly spilling the last of my tea all over Connor.

“I thought you said you’d seen this,” he remarked, taking the mug from my hand and setting it aside before I could make more mess. Our fingers brushed with the motion, and I tried really hard not to read too much into it. He’d saved my life, and I was inappropriately hero worshiping. Connor did not reciprocate that feeling and I needed to remember it.

I cleared my throat. “I have. Lots of times. It’s still scary, though. That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

His answer was just a firm roll of his eyes, like I was being stupid. He didn’t change the movie, though, nor did he ask me to fuck off. So that was something.

I yawned heavily some minutes later, settling down deeper into the sofa as I mumbled another sarcastic comment about the female main character running upstairs to escape a killer. Connor snorted some sort of laugh at that, then tugged a blanket from the back of the sofa to drape over me.

“Lie down, brat. You’re making me uncomfortable all squashed up like that.” He grabbed a spare cushion and placed it down beside his thigh, indicating I could use it.

I smirked, shuffling down until I was horizontal. “Aw, you’re being nice because we trauma bonded.”

Another eye roll. “We absolutely did not. I’m being nice because it’s two in the morning and I don’t have the energy to be an asshole.”

“Uh-huh, sure thing, trauma bestie.”

A frustrated sigh escaped him. “Brat, trauma bonds require both parties to have experienced trauma together. We did not. You experienced trauma, but for me…it was just Saturday night. Now shush, they’re about to reveal the killer.”

I bit my lip, keeping my thoughts to myself. The fact that being kidnapped at gunpoint and then literally executing a guy was just…normal for him? Blew my mind. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend the kind of childhood Connor had survived, and it sort of made me understand why he was a surly grump all the time.

But then it led me into wondering whether Ethan had suffered the same upbringing. Had he also murdered gangsters and called it just a Saturday night?

The movie finished, and Connor didn’t ask before starting the next one, which I was quietly glad for. I didn’t want to go back to bed when I was so comfy right where I was.

So comfy.

My eyelids drooped, and my blinks became longer even before the title credits started rolling.

“Are you falling asleep, brat?” Connor asked in a low whisper.

“Mmhmm,” I confirmed, letting my eyes close for another extended blink. I thought for sure he’d tell me to go back to bed if I was going to sleep, but he didn’t. He just pulled the blanket up higher over my shoulders and clicked the volume down lower on the TV.

Glorious sleep had eluded me for so long that when I opened my eyes the next morning to replace the sun shining brightly into the house, I was so disoriented that I didn’t realize for at least five minutes that I was still on the couch.

More than that. I was in Connor fucking Sullivan’s lap.

Holy shit. Holy forking shit.

Trying not to breathe too heavily, I stared up into his sleeping face. He remained in a sitting position, his head back on the cushions behind, and his arms were wrapped around my shoulders because I’d somehow shifted into his lap. Not on the edge of his thigh—nope, right smack bang on his dick.

Thankfully with a cushion under my head still.

What time is it? The sun was bright and strong, and I felt better rested than I had in almost a year. No nightmares had plagued me with Connor, and as I stared into the handsome lines of his face, which was relaxed in a way it never was when awake, I felt those tendrils of our trauma bond cement just a little stronger.

“Stop staring at me, brat,” he mumbled without opening his eyes, and I would have jumped, except I was too damn comfortable.

“You let me sleep on you, trauma bestie.”

Connor’s chest rumbled, but I swear the smallest of smiles tilted up the corner of his lips as he finally graced me with the gorgeous green of his eyes. “You’re an absolute pain in my ass, but even I hate seeing the literal suitcases you’ve got under your eyes. I wasn’t going to risk waking you, not even to get more comfortable.”

Fuck. That was actually super sweet, and if I hadn’t heard it from the man himself, I’d never have believed it. “I’m not sure you understand what literal means, gangster, but I appreciate the sentiment all the same.”

Realizing it was weird to still be lying in his lap—why the heck was I so comfortable with this scary guy?—I jerked myself up and shook off any niggling aches from sleeping on a couch…and a person.

Connor stretched and reached out to grab his phone, cursing as he turned it on. “What?” I said in a panic. With his life, there was no way to guess what would upset him. But it would definitely be bad.

“You’re late for class.”

Not what I expected, but worthy of panic all the same. “Fuck! Why didn’t Ethan wake us before he left?”

I lurched to my feet, flapping my hands as I grabbed for my phone as well to confirm the time. Ethan’s class was half-over, and there was no way I’d make it.

Connor reached out and grasped my hand, slowing the rapid movements. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. I know the professor, and I’m fairly sure we can work out an arrangement to get you caught up.”

Shaking my head at him, I couldn’t replace my usually snappy reply, because for once he hadn’t made a snarky remark about me banging my teacher. It had almost been a cute jest about me banging my teacher, and that was huge progress.

“I’m going to run upstairs and get ready,” I said, knowing I still had a study session and a possible makeup class. I needed to check my online schedule.

Connor nodded. “I’m faster than you, usually, so I’ll make you a sandwich to get you through until lunch. No one wants to see you hangry again.”

With a snort, I flipped him off, and he just flashed his perfect teeth in a smartass smile.

As I raced up the stairs, I realized that I didn’t want to leave Connor or that couch today. I could have quite happily remained in our little slasher-flick moment, vegging out with all the snacky snacks and ignoring the rest of the world.

Unfortunately, my professors wouldn’t feel the same way, and I already dreaded having to explain my absence to Ethan. Not that he should be surprised unless he completely missed his two sleeping roommates on the couch when he left this morning.

There was no time for a shower, so I just scrubbed my face, brushed my teeth, and slapped on minimal makeup. Not that I fucking needed it. This girl was glowing with her full night’s sleep, and when I had more time to break down my night with Connor, I’d analyze the reasons why he kept my dreams away. Just like Ethan. And Brodie.

Yeah, maybe that was the key. Always sleep with a gorgeous, somewhat dangerous man.

In my room, I changed into jeans and a tank, grabbing up Connor’s hoodie, before pausing to wonder if that was a little too far. He already thought I was an obsessed, trauma-bonded loser. And I wasn’t going to deny it, but best to leave the hoodie for secretly sleeping in.

Snatching up my bag and denim jacket instead, I hurried back down to replace Connor in new clothes, looking far too gorgeous and refreshed for what had to have been a pretty shitty night of sleep. “Here’s your sandwich, brat,” he said, thrusting a chicken and mayo roll at me. “Now move your ass because I have a class in ten minutes, and I need to walk you into the main courtyard.”

Clutching the sandwich, and then the bottle of water he also handed over, I shook my head. “You don’t have to wait for me. I know I’m only going to slow you down. I don’t have anything for an hour or so; it’s okay to run ahead.”

He looked at me like I’d just suggested he crawl on his stomach to class while wearing a onesie. “Not a fucking chance. I’m getting you there safely, just make sure you move your ass.”

I almost saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

He paused in the process of slipping his laptop bag over his shoulder, and I swallowed roughly at the heat in his eyes. “I knew I’d tame the brat into a good girl.” He stepped closer, towering over me as I drowned in his intensity. “You want to be a good girl for me, Evelyn?”

Oh, fuck. What was the question again?

Connor’s laughter released me, and I found myself hurrying for the door as he nudged me along. “Eat,” he ordered, and I glanced down to replace my now-crushed sandwich still clutched in one hand, the water in my other.

The fresh air cleared my head as we left the house, and starving, I bit into the delicious fresh bread. Connor had already finished his, but it felt like he kept an eye on me the entire way to campus, making sure I ate all of mine.

“A good night’s sleep did you very well,” he said suddenly, when the courtyard came into view. “I’ve never seen you look quite so refreshe…”

He trailed off, gaze lifting as he stared above my head, and I swore he’d just seen a ghost. Turning as I twisted the lid off my bottle, it took me a minute to figure out what had drawn his attention.

A gorgeous brunette was hurrying across the grass, a large duffel over her shoulder as she waved. “Connie,” she shouted. “Oh my god.”

When she reached us, she all but shoved me to the side as she leaped at Connor, and he reached out and caught her by instinct. Still looking shell-shocked.

“Oh, Con,” she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I missed you so much.”

Then she kissed him right on the lips, and even as I hoped he was about to push her away, the shock finally wore off his face and he threaded one of his hands through the back of her shiny, golden hair and…kissed her back.