Then Connor says, “Lo…” I don’t spin around as I head to the living room. I just point to the toaster. “I’m not going to butter it for you.” I take a bite of my bagel and only glance back once. Yeah, I made the guy breakfast, a small, small sign of peace between us. I watch as his lips pull into one of those genuine smiles—one that holds no trace of arrogance. I add, “It doesn’t mean that I’m not still mad at you.” I won’t let him off the hook that easily, but I doubt this fight will last much longer. “I prefer my friends angry,” Connor says. “It makes me look better.” “Too soon,” I tell him,
...more
so cutee.
