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Even a few hours later, fear-stricken thoughts of the consequences of my actions are still fresh in my mind.

I’d hoped a hot shower with some expensive strawberry-scented body wash (borrowed stealthily from my mom’s bathroom cabinet) would be able to clear my head. However, as I stand under the stream of water, smothered in pink strawberry suds, I realize the feeling of sheer panic is still present.

There’s no doubt Charlotte’s going to confront Connor about the revelation. And when she does, quite frankly... I’m dead.

Especially considering I had been under strict instructions “not to tell anyone about this”.

Should I start writing my will now?

After a while, I step out into the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the rack and wrapping it around myself quickly. As usual, my “post-shower” look is insanely attractive – red, pruned skin with a mess of damp frizzy waves sticking to the sides of my face – and for this reason I consciously avoid any eye contact with my reflection in the mirror over the sink.

We can’t all step out of the shower looking like goddesses like they do in commercials.

Deciding tonight is acceptable to make no effort with my appearance whatsoever, I head out into my room and toward the dresser on the opposite wall. No one’s going to see me, so why bother, right? It only takes a couple of seconds to throw on the first pair of undergarments I lay my hands on.

I’ve pulled on a baggy white t-shirt and am in the process of searching through the depths of my drawer for a pair of sweatpants when an incredibly loud knocking starts up on my bedroom door.

So loud, in fact, that I practically jump out of my skin. Who the hell is out there, banging on it so hard it sounds as if they’re trying to break it down? I doubt it’s my mom, and my dad is working a busy shift at the restaurant until late. Unless Brandon’s flown out from California just to irritate me, I don’t think the responsibility lies with any of my family.

The incessant knocking stops for about half a second before the door swings open, bouncing off the wall with the unnecessary force it was pushed with.

The sight that greets my eyes is probably the worst case scenario.

It’s Connor.

Confusion washes over me for a moment before it occurs to me that I’m distinctly lacking in the pants area. Immediately, I feel color rising to my cheeks at the idea of my unsexy girl boxers being in public view. Thankfully, my hand lands on a pair of sweatpants in my drawer and I pull them on quickly before Connor gets the chance to look at my butt.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I question, as he marches into the room.

As if he finds it perfectly acceptable to barge into someone’s bedroom without permission.

However, he ignores me. Instead, he stalks across the room, approaching me so threateningly I am forced to step backward until my back meets the wall. And that’s when I get scared. The look on Connor’s face tells me he’s seriously pissed, not just irritated like usual.

“I…”

“You just don’t listen, do you?” he says, shooting me an angry look.

His face is just inches away from mine; from here, I can see every little detail. The way some strands of hair have fallen messily from its style, how his usually chocolate brown eyes seem to have darkened underneath their glaze of anger. I swallow as anxiety washes over me.

“How did you get in here?” I manage to squeak out, keen to steer the conversation away from the thing that may just get me killed.

A flat look is sent in my direction. “Your mom let me in. You were the one who came up with the genius idea of acting like we’re friends, remember? Which is more trouble than it’s worth.” He shakes his head, his eyes then snapping back to me as if suddenly remembering what he’s here for. And that’s being incredibly angry at me. “That’s not the point, anyway. The point is you don’t listen to a word I say.”

“I… I don’t know what you mean.”

I really need to work on my lying skills.

“Yes, you do,” he says, his tone adamant. “And it’s a complete waste of time lying about it, so don’t even bother.”

“Um…”

“Let me refresh your memory. The morning after the party, hmm?” His tone is taunting, consisting of nothing much more than sarcasm. “When you woke up in my bed after I’d actually done you a favor and let you crash at my house because you were so drunk? Ring any bells?”

It rings a lot of bells. So much so, I’ve barely thought of anything else since that morning. Especially when I had seen such a different side to Connor’s personality that usually remains well hidden.

“Oh… yeah…”

“Oh, good. So you’re not a complete imbecile then,” he responds spitefully.

“I haven’t done anything…”

Once again, my lie is as transparent as a glass window. We both know the truth, as is evident by the look of fury in Connor’s eyes as he glares at me.

“I told you not to mention it to anyone. I told you that I didn’t want people talking about the fact that I’d helped you. But, oh wait! You completely ignored me and blabbed, just so you could have something to gossip about with your pathetic little friends.”

Fueled by the anger induced by his harsh words, I find the courage to snap back. “I didn’t do it on purpose; it just slipped out. You think I would do something like this for the gossip? Believe me, I don’t enjoy being the talk of the school, especially for something like this. And if you think that… well, then you obviously don’t know me at all.”

“No. I don’t,” Connor retorts. “Neither do I really want to.”

Can he be any ruder?

“Well, I’m not exactly your biggest fan either.”

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” he says, his voice going up dramatically in volume. “Well, guess what? You’re not. I bet you don’t even realize how much shit you’ve got me in. I’ve got Charlotte on my back, demanding to know why you spent the night. And what am I supposed to say to her? Do you think she’s one to let this go easy?”

Every word out of Connor’s mouth is tinged with venom, and each just infuriates me that little bit more. “Look, I don’t care about your little girlfriend troubles. It’s not my problem that you decided to date a possessive evil bitch.”

I’m aware it’s a bad idea to drag Charlotte into it, but I can’t help myself. Hearing Connor go on about how I’ve caused problems between them irritates me beyond belief. The two of them together really is a worst case scenario, seeing as they both hate me. At the end of the day, if his bitch of a girlfriend gets mad over something he’s done, that’s not my fault.

It’s not like I asked Connor to take care of me. I had been perfectly settled on his bathroom floor.

“This isn’t about what you think of Charlotte!” Connor yells, startling me with his tone of voice. I hadn’t been expecting him to get so angry so soon. “This about me specifically asking you not to do something, but you going straight ahead and doing it anyway!”

“Look, I’m sorry about telling her about it, okay? But if you’re so concerned about people finding out about you helping me, why did you even do it in the first place?!”

Silence falls between the two of us as Connor struggles to think of an answer.

Of course, I take the opportunity to internally congratulate myself for being so badass at arguing.

Eventually, after many moments of opening and closing his mouth in pure goldfish fashion, Connor finally speaks. “Can’t you just stop questioning me and be grateful for once in your life?” he snaps.

“Why should I be grateful when you constantly act like this?” I gesture toward him, as if his unkind persona is some kind of visible monster in the room.

“Have you ever thought about what you’ve done to me? Ever considered that maybe that’s why I act like I do?”

I pause as the words begin to sink into my brain. For some reason, they seem to hurt, despite not knowing the real meaning behind them. Staring back at him, I study the expression in his eyes. Where pure anger previously showed, his eyes have a different tone to them. Sadness? There’s no definite way to tell.

What you’ve done to me? What does that even mean? I can’t think of anything I’ve done in the few weeks he’s been here that could possibly have made him act like this. The first time we saw each other again – in the street, on my way back from work – his moody attitude was already present.

And there’s no way all of this could’ve sprung from bumping into him that evening.

Before I can query, he cuts me off. “You’re a bitch, Georgie. You prance around like you’re all innocent, trying to fool everybody. Well, you know what? I can see right through it. I know you enough to know that inside you’re just a pathetic little attention seeker.”

“Me?” I stammer in disbelief. “You’re saying I’m an attention seeker?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Are you kidding me?” I scoff. “If anyone here is an attention seeker, it’s you. You’re the one who’s been leeching off the popular crowd ever since you got here. Flirting with almost everyone you see. And now you’re dating Charlotte Hayes? Spare me, Connor. I’m pretty sure that one’s not because you’re madly in love with her.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I know what she’s like! Anyone with eyes can see that! And plus, I know you. Or at least I used to. Charlotte isn’t the type of girl you’d…”

My voice trails off, realizing I’m going too far. Connor’s dating habits aren’t something I want to get into right now… or ever, for that matter. Just because I used to know him eight years ago – better than anyone else – doesn’t mean that’s still the case.

It is definitely not the case. I can barely recognize the guy in front of me as the kid I knew all those years ago.

“Type of girl I’d what?” Connor asks challengingly. “Who are you to tell me who I should date? You know, you’ve barely got a right to speak to me after what you’ve caused.”

“I didn’t mean–”

“Just because you don’t like Charlotte – out of jealousy, probably – doesn’t give you the right to try and mess up our relationship.”

“I wasn’t trying to mess it up!”

“Oh, sure. I knew you were a bitch, Georgie, but I didn’t think for a minute you’d ever stoop this low. You disgust me. And you know what? I can’t stand to be around you anymore. To hell with this “pretending to be friends” thing. To hell with pretending I actually like you. To hell with even speaking to you ever again!”

“I told you, it was an accident!”

Before I can protest further, Connor cuts me off. “Don’t even bother,” he says, his tone dripping with venom. “Don’t even bother trying to speak to me anymore.”

He pivots on his heel, making sure to send me one last angry look before stalking across my room. As his body is removed from its close proximity to mine, I let out a sigh of relief. Having him so up in my face – especially in a mood like this – had been unnerving.

However, before he reaches the open bedroom door, he looks over his shoulder.

“You know, you really haven’t changed at all.”

I don’t even have time to question him before he storms out. The sound of the door slamming reverberates around the room before gradually diminishing into silence.

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Hey guys! So I think I've finally got back into the swing of writing again, yay :D What do you think of the massive argument? Dramatic, huh? It's late again but at least I didn't give up on this story, which I was coming way too close to doing :P

By the way... are any of you going to the London meetup on Saturday? I am, so you might see me there :D

Oh and one last thing... my friend Jade (username: emergencyreaction) has just started uploading a new story! I'd love you forever (and so would she) if you could go take a look! It's called The Fiddler and it's a romancey type thing :) Until next time!