A SMALL twitch from the body next to her caused the girl to wake up. Her face scrunched in disgust as she woke up, her head feeling as if it was vibrating in her skull.
"Chandler?" Conor spoke softly, nudging the girl softly. Their bodies were tangled together.
"What is it?" she murmured groggily, blinking to clear the sleep from her eyes. Her chin remained tucked against him as if she had no intention of moving away from the comfortable spot she had found.
Conor couldn't help but laugh as he took in her face, her eyes still heavy with sleep. She struggled to look at him, squinting as she tried to adjust to the piercing light filtering into the room. The remnants of the night before lingered in her expression, the faint hint of regret shadowing her sleepy gaze.
He chuckled softly and reached out, gently moving a stray lock of hair away from her forehead. As he did, she groaned and rubbed circles on her temple, trying to soothe the dull ache that throbbed behind her eyes.
Her body felt like it was weighed down with concrete, each movement an effort as she attempted to stretch and wake up her tired muscles. She let out a sigh, as though even the act of breathing took more energy than she wanted to exert.
"I drank way too much," she mumbled, her voice husky and dry.
"I tried to tell you," he responded in a singsong voice, finding her situation amusing despite the discomfort she was in. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a comforting hug. "But you were having too much fun to listen."
She snuggled against him, appreciating his warmth and support. "I guess I owe you one," she admitted, her voice tinged with a mix of regret and affection.
Conor slowly rubbed a hand up and down her shoulder. Just when he brushed over the girl's arm, she winced slightly, pulling back from the midfielder. Conor's eyebrow waved in concern, giving the girl a weird look.
"What's wrong?" He asked. He watched the girl glance down at her arm. Conor's gaze fell on the faint bruise peeking out from beneath the hem of her shirt. As he took in its shape, his expression darkened with concern.
The mark was a clear outline of a hand wrapped tightly around her arm, the skin mottled with shades of purple and blue, still tender and slightly swollen. It was unmistakable evidence of someone grabbing her roughly.
Conor's jaw tightened as he realized what it meant. "Chandler, who did this to you?" he asked, his voice laced with worry and simmering anger. He quickly sat up, causing her to go slack on the pillow beneath her.
"It's nothing," she said, trying to brush it off. "This guy in the club was trying to talk to me, that's all."
Conor's frown deepened. "What? Did he grab you?"
Chandler looked at him, sensing his anger. "I'm okay now," she reassured him, her voice soft. "It was just a moment."
"Why didn't you tell me?" he pressed, his concern clear in his eyes.
She sighed, trying to ease his worries. "I forgot about it until you brought it up. Seriously, it's nothing," she said, trying to downplay the situation.
Conor's expression softened, though his protective instincts remained strong. "I'm sorry that happened to you," he said, his voice filled with genuine concern.
"Sorry, I didn't say anything," she replied.
"Does it hurt?" His fingers hovered over the bruise without touching it, his brow furrowed with worry. She shook her head, offering a small smile to reassure him.
Conor felt a bit more relieved that it wasn't causing her pain, but the thought of someone grabbing her still gnawed at him.
"I appreciate you staying," Chandler said, her voice warm with gratitude.
"Of course," he replied, his tone soft but steady. "I'm here for you."
She nodded, the comfort of his presence helping to ease the lingering discomfort from the previous night's events. "We should do something today," she suggested, hoping to shift the mood toward something more positive.
Conor smiled, glad she wanted to spend the day together. "Sounds good. How about we get some breakfast first, then decide what to do?" he offered, looking forward to a relaxing day with her.
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