Animal {a Conor Maynard fanfiction}

Chapter 2

"No, Conor. You're not coming in my apartment!," I say to him, as he playfully wraps his gentle arms around my waist. "Please, Skye. I just want to look around. I promise I won't try to pull anything," he whines, as I try to walk up my staircase to my apartment with him attached to my body.

After the diner, we went to catch a film at cinema. All we did though was make fun of the actors and actresses at their cheesy lines. His laugh is really sexy, and then he complimented, again, on my laugh. He kept trying to throw popcorn down my dress. It would always make it, and I would eat it, and he would laugh, then go "Gross!". We got yelled at several times, but we would laugh it off.

Since, he had only had one drink at the club, he was able to drive. So he drove me here, to my apartment I share with Trisha, on campus.

"You won't?!" I ask, raising one eyebrow. He cheekily smiles, "No."

"Fine you can come in, but for only a little bit," I scold, and he smirks. I can tell he always gets his way. I don't see why he wouldn't. He's very...adorable. I am suprised though. He seems very different when you actually talk to him, then at the club or "the party scenes".

I dig through my small purse and pull out my key to my apartment. I slide the key into the lock, and unlock the small door. We walk in, and his eyes shift from the ceilings, to the pictures on the wall, to a box of tampons that was left on the counter.

He smiles, and I run over to the counter before he can, and grab the box, and hide it behind my back. Trisha must have accidentally left these out. "What do you have there?," he jokes, and I close my eyes embarrased. And annoyed.

"Shutup, Conor," I spit, and hide them behind a picture frame on the counter. The picture in the frame was of my family. My dad and mom before they got divorced, and my brother and three sisters, and me. He walks over to me, pinning me aganist the counter with his body as he stares carefully at the picture. It was taken outside, when the sun was setting, in Tennesse.

"Is this your family?," he asks, picking up the frame, awkwardly revealing the pink box of tampons again. I nod. "Are your parents together?," he wonders, still studying the picture. "Um, actually, no. We took that picture before they divorced," I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, still pinned to the cold counter, by his warm body pressed against mine.

An "Oh" escapes his mouth. After a few moments of silence, he opens his perfectly full mouth. "Why did they split?," he puts the picture frame down, staring into my eyes. His hips presses to mine. Our chests almost connect. He wraps his arms around my waist. Our legs touching, in fact, intertwined.

"Um. My dad cheated on my mom," I say, feeling the bad memories flush back into my mind like a whirlpool. He looks down at me, with a sorrowful look in his eyes. I look up at him. I can tell his mind is racing of possibilities. "Are you still sad," he asks.

"No. But there is just a lot of bad memories associated with that topic," I say, looking down at our connected hips. "Obviously," he answers, finally removing his body from mine, leaving us about a foot apart. He starts to walk away.

"What about your family," I ask. He spins around, and our eyes meet. His eyes are suddenly filled with anger. "My family, is much, much different from yours. My family was different for many reasons. That I am not going to discuss," he answers through tight lips.

I decide to drop the family subject. He walks back to the living room. "I want to see your room," he says, his hands shoved deeply in his pocket. "No," I remember my room is messy. "You have already seen enough," I laugh, as he joins in.

He stands there and smiles at me in the living room. "Where do you go to school?," I ask. He laughs hysterically, "I don't go to school."

"How do you make money?," I ask. His eyes move from my face to the ground. "I, uh, sing," he answers. A smile appears across my face. "I like guys who sing. It makes them seem more in touch with their heart," I say. "Oh come on! In touch with their heart? Please! I am not like one of those guys you are thinking of," he puts up his index finger.