Page 55 of Make Me Mean It

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THEO

Connor disappears into the crowd before I’ve fully worked out what the fuck just happened.

“Shit,” I hiss, my head snapping around, searching for Marcus through the bodies packed around me. Flashing lights catch faces for barely a second before losing them again, and I scan the bar, the tables beyond it, anywhere he might be standing.

Nothing.

Fuck. Did he see that?

The thought comes with a flash of Connor pressed against me, my hand spread across his back and his lips parting.

I drag my eyes back towards the crowd he disappeared into.

Marcus can kill me later.

I peel off after Connor, shoving through the crowd. I keep catching glimpses of Connor ahead of me, blond hair disappearing between bodies, and every time I lose sight of him my pulse kicks a little harder.

I burst out of the bar a few seconds after him, the door slamming shut behind me, and the sudden drop in noise is disorienting. The music becomes a dull thud through the walls, my ears ringing in the space it leaves behind.

Metal bangs ahead of me, and I crane my head towards the sound, squinting through the dark until another crack sounds.

“Fuck.”

Connor is backed against one of the metal staff doors, his head tipped against it, and I barely have time to register what I’m looking at before he slams his skull backwards, making the whole fucking thing rattle.

Once.

Again.

My feet are already moving when he draws his head forward for a third.

“Connor.”

He either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t fucking care, because his head goes back again.

No.

Fuck that.

I close the distance between us at a run.

I shove my hand behind his head just as he throws himself backwards again, his skull cracking straight into my palm, pain shooting through my wrist and up my arm. A grunt tears out of me, my fingers curling around the back of his head as the ache settles viciously through my right hand.

Fucking perfect.

I barely get a second to register it before Connor looks at me, and the pain becomes the least important thing happening.

His eyes are wide and glassy, jumping over my face without ever seeming to actually find me, his chest rising and falling so quickly beneath his shirt that I can barely separate one breath from the next.

“Connor.”

There’s nothing. No irritated snap at hearing his name, no scowl, not even the slightest sign he’s registered I’m standing in front of him.

He throws his head backwards again, another bolt of pain driving through my hand when I stop him from reaching the door. A broken, frustrated sound catches in his throat as he shoves at my chest instead, trying to force me away.

“Enough,” I grit out, planting my feet when he pushes harder.