Printer Boy (Connor Murphy x Fem!Reader)

5. Cherry Limeade

Red slush cascades out of the machine as Connor pulls the lever down, filling his large cup to the brim. Faint whirring sounds force their way out of the tube as he finally lets go.

"Fuck." I mutter, feeling my back pocket for my wallet but finding nothing.

"What?" Connor asks as he pops the lid onto his slushy.

"Forgot my wallet."

"I can pay for you." Connor's face is flooded with confusion, "I was gonna pay for you anyway." I laugh a bit as he hands me a straw.

"Can I pay you back, or something?" Connor shakes his head rapidly as he bites the paper end off of his straw and spits it onto the linoleum floor.

"Nah, my parents are fucking loaded. Don't worry about it."  He takes a long sip.

"You sure?" I pop the straw into mine.

"Yeah. C'mon, let's go." I dutifully follow him to the counter, where, as promised, he pays for two large slushies. 

"Y'know." I interrupt the comfortable silence that stretches between us as we walk back to Connor's truck, making him glance at me. "You're really fucking nice." Connor chokes on his slushy, sending him into a coughing fit.

"What the fuck?" He manages to get out between coughs as he doubles over.

"You good there, brochacho?" I place a hand on his back, trying to suppress a laugh.

"You-" Connor wheezes, "You called me nice?"

"You bought me a slushy, dumbass, that's pretty fucking nice." Connor lets out an airy laugh as he stand again. He runs a hand through his fluffy hair, raising blush on my cheeks for no apparent reason.

"I'm not nice," He mutters, kicking a pebble on his way to the driver's side door. I slide into the passengers seat and place my drink in the cup holder. He glances at me for half a second, just long enough for me to notice a small spot of slushy by the corner of his mouth. I pull the sleeve of my hoodie over my hand and reach out to wipe it off of his face.

Connor's POV

My eyes follow her hand as she reaches out towards my face. Every nerve in my body tells me to lean backwards, away from her hand, but I ignore them, curious as to what she'll do. I feel the soft fabric of her jacket brush the corner of my mouth for what seems like hours but was really only a fraction of a second.

"Slushy." She explains simply, plugging her phone back into the AUX. I pretend to look out the window as I start the car, but really, I'm just trying to hide the fact that her little touch has turned me into a blushing mess. Fuck, Y/n, I think, what are you doing to me?

A/N:

Hey look. A really fucking short and shitty chapter. 

Also. I had to add 'brochacho' for my guy Argyle (if ykyk).

um.

bye.

for now (oOoOoOOoOoo)

-Vale