Chapter 29
Connor
“Do you want to come in?” Duffy asked.
After parking in her driveway, I glanced over at her but couldn’t read her face. I hadn’t expected the invitation. “Do you want me to?”
Her mouth twitched like she wanted to laugh before she said, “I mean, I want to help you. You look…um, ridiculous, so if you want to come in and clean up, I think that might be a great idea.”
“You’re afraid I’m going to scare my doorman, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, you might get arrested because you don’t look at all like yourself,” she said.
The zombies had unloaded on me and I was covered in splashes of neon paint. Even though there were rules about going for the face, those jackasses had definitely aimed high, making my face collateral damage.
“The good thing is that my dad’s not home, so we don’t have to deal with him at the moment.”
“Where’s Tony?” I asked. “Out partying?”
“Basically,” she said. “He likes to go to the bar down the street with his buddies on meat raffle nights.”
“That is a party,” I said.
“Right?”
I followed Duffy up to the porch, and when she led me into her home, it felt like I’d stepped into a time machine.
In a good way.
The house was typical middle class, with shiny oak cabinets in the kitchen and lots of silk flower arrangements. If I had to guess, I’d say that Duffy’s mom probably decorated this house when Duff was in middle school and it hadn’t changed since.
As soon as the door closed behind us, she dumped her keys on the table next to the door and toed off her shoes. “Oh, hey—want to see the Coyote room?”
“I’m assuming that’s not a room where you keep your collection of wild animals?”
“Funny,” she said. “No, it’s where my dad keeps all his memorabilia. Come on.”
When she grabbed my hand and pulled me behind her, wild horses couldn’t have stopped me from following her to wherever she led. Because the way she’d kissed me an hour ago, the way she was suddenly holding my hand now—I wanted more.
But when I stepped into her dad’s Coyote room, all thoughts of kisses and dates and touches became muted.
I was disoriented for a minute as I looked around because the room reminded me so much of my grandpa’s basement.
Signed helmets, old jerseys, limited-edition cereal boxes from the 1980s; all the little things that lifelong fans collected during the journey of their fandom.
It took me back to when I was young, when I was fascinated by all the little tchotchkes my grandpa had accumulated throughout the decades.
A framed picture on a table caught my eye and I stepped closer to pick it up. It was the entire Distefano family. It looked like it was probably from an old Christmas card. I saw Tony, Duffy, Duffy’s brothers, and a woman I assumed was her mom because they looked exactly alike.
In the photo, Duffy had two long braids, a painted face, and she was wearing a Coyote jersey. There was so much impishness in her face, the face that belonged to the zombie-hunting queen I’d spent the evening with.
“Were you the cutest little shit?” I asked.
“That’s exactly what my dad says every time he looks at this picture,” she said with a smile.
“Wow, you look just like your mom,” I said, wondering if Duffy knew just how pretty she really was.
Her eyes softened when I said that, and I could tell she was thinking of her mother.
“Thanks,” she said.
“This is quite a room,” I said. “Kind of intimidating for a guy like me.”
“Does it make you feel pressure?” she asked. “Does it make it seem more important for you to catch the passes that are thrown your way?”
“It reminds me that sometimes football is more than just football,” I said. “My grandpa had a room just like this, which is why I always wanted to play here.”
“Between the two of us, we get really serious about football sometimes, don’t we?” she said teasingly, even though we both knew what it meant to our families.
“Yeah.”
A loud meow sounded, which made Duffy roll her eyes.
“Dale’s in my room,” she said.
“What?”
“That is the sound of Dale meowing because he went in my room and he’s so smart he knows how to close the door behind him, but then he obviously cannot open it because he lacks opposable thumbs, so he gets stuck in my room.”
“Poor Dale,” I said.
“Poor Dale, my ass,” she said with a snort. “I’m pretty sure he does it on purpose.”
I followed her out of the room and down the hallway, and as soon as she opened one of the doors the cat ran out, tearing around the corner, not even pausing as he passed us.
“You need to stop doing that,” she said loudly to the cat.
“Does a verbal warning work on that guy?”
“Oh no,” she said. “Dale is the assholiest of all asshole cats.”
I wasn’t trying to be nosy, but my eyes inadvertently caught a glimpse of something through the door gap.
“So that’s the One Direction poster you warned me about?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t say a problem, but it seems like by now you might’ve had ample time to take it down. It’s definitely a choice that every night you go to sleep staring at Harry Styles.”
“Look at the direction of the bed; I don’t look at the poster at all when I go to sleep,” she said defensively. “Also, I feel like the second I start making the room mine, I’m accepting the fact that I’m going to be here long-term.”
“Okay, that makes total sense to me,” I said, now fully peeking into her room. “At least you have your own bathroom; that’s kind of a nice design feature.”
It was unusual for such a small house to have a bathroom attached to a kid’s bedroom.
“My mother insisted my dad tear out the closet and give me my own bathroom because she said any girl with three brothers earned the right to their own restroom.”
“I feel like I would’ve liked your mom,” I said, wishing I could take the sadness out of Duffy’s eyes.
“You definitely would’ve. Everybody loved her,” Duffy said with a smile. “I mean, just imagine the kind of woman who could keep my father happy while at the same time running a classroom and raising four kids. She was superwoman.”
“Sounds like it,” I said, and I genuinely wished I could’ve met her. I wanted to know everything about what made Duffy who she was.
“Even though I agree with your plan to not update this bedroom, I think I would’ve had to move in with a bigger bed. Is that a twin?”
“I think it’s technically a full,” she said. “But yeah, I definitely wouldn’t hate that. You wouldn’t even fit. You’d have to bring in a custom gigantor bed if you moved back to your parents’ house.”
“Hey, I’m starting to get a complex. First you assumed I couldn’t fit through that window—”
“You barely did,” she interrupted.
“—and now you think I can’t fit in an adult-sized bed?”
“Look at the size of you and look at that bed. It’s not an accusation, it’s a fact.”
“I’d fit on the bed, it just wouldn’t be comfortable.”
“Nope. My feet practically hang off the bed and I’m short. No way would you fit.”
“Let’s agree to disagree,” I said.
“We’re not agreeing or disagreeing—get on the bed,” she said, crossing her arms.
“Say that again, but slower, honey.”
“Get. On. The. Bed. Dumbass,” she said with a laugh. “So I can prove you wrong.”
“Even though I’m covered in paint?” I asked.
“It’s dry by now. Go.”
I slid off my shoes before taking a big leap and flopping onto her bed. Her bed that was way too freaking small for me—anyone with eyes could see that.
“See? I totally fit,” I said as half of each leg hung off the bottom of the bed.
She laughed and shook her head.
All it took was a tug on the bottom of her sweater, and boom—she fell down onto the bed beside me.
“We even both fit,” I exclaimed, even though she was pretty much just lying on top of me because there was zero room on the tiny mattress.
“Sure we do,” she quipped, grinning down at me. “I was right—admit it.”
“I won’t,” I said, truly not giving a shit about anything but those brown eyes and the cute dusting of freckles.
“I had the best time tonight, by the way,” she said, her hair falling around us as she looked down at me. “Seriously.”
“Ditto,” I said, giving in to the urge to let my fingers slide along her jawline.
She inhaled sharply in surprise, but she didn’t move.
We both stayed still for a moment, like we were unsure how to proceed while in her childhood bed—not the king-sized mattress we were used to—but then it didn’t matter.
In an instant, the close proximity was too much.
It felt like it had been building up throughout the entire zombie experience, the two of us against the world, and now we were free to explore every little bit of what that meant.
As I looked up at her, I was pummeled with feelings, like everything I thought about her all the damn time was hitting me at the same moment; the way she smelled, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed, the way she talked about her family; how she tried to be strong and independent but let herself lean on me; how I could lean on her so easily.
Everything about her came together at once, punching me square in the chest with so much need that I had to grit my teeth against it. I wouldn’t have been able to come up with words if I’d wanted to speak, but then her eyes dipped to my mouth and I knew I didn’t have to.
My mouth found hers and it was done.
We were kissing, drowning, only there was too much need to call it a kiss.
It was like our mouths were battling, yet somehow moving as one.
One taste of her lips and I was locked in, engulfed in heat and raw desire as my hands slid into the back of her hair to hold her even closer, if that was possible.
“Thank you for being so good at this,” she said against my mouth, her voice soft and breathy as she set her hands on my chest and kissed me back like a fucking goddess. “You make me a little weak, Connor Cunningham.”
I shifted so she was half underneath me, obsessed with the way she met me kiss for kiss, the way her lips were deliciously swollen, the way her eyes clouded over with desire.
I could barely breathe as I felt every contour of her body pressed against me; it made me fucking crazy.
We were in a preposterously tiny bed with a One Direction poster behind us, and I’d never wanted anyone as much as I wanted her in that moment.
“Well, you fucking destroy me, Distefano,” I said as I lowered my head and set my teeth on the skin of her delicate throat. “So that only seems fair.”
I swear to God I’d never felt this way before, like it would be physically painful to stop kissing her or touching her.
And it was like that every time we were together. My hands were all over her body, sliding over curves while searching for sighs, and hers were all over mine in a way that had me uttering curses under my breath like a fucking sailor.
It became a desperate race to remove clothing, to get closer, to be as close as it was possible for two people to be. The bed was too small, the room too bright, but nothing mattered because she was there, whispering my name and urging me for more.
Duffy was the center of my universe, her sweet lips and soft fingertips the only things I cared to focus on.
Which explained why I hadn’t heard the noises outside of her room.
“Cunningham!”
Oh, fuck.
Tony’s voice cut through the haze and I shot up like I’d been Tasered.
“Oh shit, it’s my dad,” Duffy gasped, scrambling out from underneath me.
“Connor, you gotta go,” he yelled through the door.
“Dad!” Duffy yelled, sounding like an annoyed teenager.
“I know you’re an adult, Duff, but it’s my house and I just can’t have you alone in your room with a boy.”
As I helped Duffy retrieve clothing, I snorted in spite of it all, because this situation was too ridiculous.
“Okay, first of all, I don’t have a boy in my room; I have a man in my room,” she said.
“Terrible clarification,” I muttered, amused even as I worried Tony was going to shoot me in the face when I opened the door.
“And second of all, I am an adult. I’m allowed to have adult friends over.”
“I was actually just about to take off,” I said, climbing off the bed and grabbing my shirt from the floor. I wrestled with it, trying to find the neck hole and get it over my head before her dad burst into the room.
“You don’t have to go,” Duffy said, failing to maintain her look of annoyance as she bit her lip to keep from laughing.
“I know, but it’s Tony’s house,” I said, reaching for the door. I needed to get out of the room, to where Tony could see I wasn’t touching his daughter.
I pulled the door open and immediately knew I was fucked.
Tony’s eyes went down to my chest and he said with a scowl, “With God as my witness, I should punch you where you stand, kid.”
“What?” I looked down and shit, shit, shiiiit.
My shirt was inside out.
I’d literally put on my shirt inside out.
“Oh my God, Dad,” Duffy said, walking out behind me. “Calm down.”
“Don’t ‘ohmigod calm down’ me, young lady,” he said. “Look at your damned boyfriend.”
Duffy looked at me, her eyes dipping to my shirt, and she snort-giggled.
“I’m sorry, Tony,” I said, feeling like a teenager who was about to be destroyed. “We were at the paintball range and I turned my shirt inside out so I wouldn’t get paint in my car. I know this probably looks bad…” I pulled my shirt a bit to show him the neon paint as if to prove it.
I was the worst liar, and Duffy kept shaking her head like I was pathetic, but praise God, Tony bought it.
“Ah,” her dad said, instantly relaxed and smiling. He nodded and gave my arm a pat. “That explains it. You want a beer, Cunningham?”