Page 194 of Make Me Mean It

“It’s my house, dickhead.”

“Well, maybe he’s someone you’d actually listen to,” I add, nudging Connor lightly before looking back at Marcus. “You know, now that you’ve run off our third coach in, what?”

I lift my hand, pretending to count.

“A month?”

Marcus flips me off.

“There he is.”

He takes a long pull from his beer before dropping it onto the coffee table with a dull thud.

Connor goes rigid beside me.

It’s barely anything. A small tightening through his shoulders, the weight of him changing against my side, but I feel it immediately.

My hand moves before I even think about it, sliding from his arm to his back and smoothing slowly down his spine.

Once.

Again.

Connor’s shoulders loosen beneath my palm.

“Use a coaster, will you?” I mutter, reaching forward with my free hand and flicking one across the table towards Marcus.

He stares at it.

Then at me.

His eyes narrow.

“Oh, fuck off. Just use it.”

Marcus rolls his eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t disappear into his skull, but he drags the coaster underneath his beer anyway.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “He’s even got you housebroken.”

I glance down at Connor tucked against my side, then back at Marcus.

“Worth it.”