It wasn’t until the drive home that the guilt began to creep in. Not over Conner’s girlfriend. Hell no. Trish was a bitch. But over Becker. I’d blown him off to come and make out with this idiot. I looked at Conner.
“Whatcha thinking about?” he asked, grinning slyly.
I was thinking I was a fool. “That you’re a fool.”
He laughed. “Stella, I know you like me because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t talk so sweetly to me.”
I looked in my lap, the wind from the window blowing my hair around. “So what now?” I asked. “Trish still your girlfriend?”
Conner was silent and that was all I needed for an answer. We didn’t speak the rest of the way and as he stopped in front of my house, I swallowed hard. What was I doing here?
“Wanna hang out tomorrow?” he asked.
I got out of the Jeep and turned back to look at him. Admiring his blond curls. His handsome face. But there was a sickening twist in my stomach. He’d done it again. He made me his “other” woman again. I should be on a freaking soap opera.
“No,” I said and straightened up. “That was the last time.”
He smiled. “I think we both know it won’t be.”
I slammed his door as hard as I could and spun around. I stalked up my stairs, needing to lock myself in my room and cry. But instead I heard, “Hey, Stella. I really like the taste of that lip gloss.”