Connor Detroit Become Human Fanart Novels & Stories

But boy, do I want to smack his arrogantly handsome face. “Thank you.” Unfortunately, I have to endure Connor’s presence because Santana continues the conversation. Surprisingly enough, he and Declan remain silent. As I continue to stand there, I can feel the heat of Connor's stare. He must hate the fact that Santana and Declan like me. I heard that Santana is not a fan of Connor’s revolving door. Not that I’d be one of the women taking a spin, considering he thinks I’m just a silly girl. If he only knew.

Connor had this stupid cocky attitude right up until he touched me, and then suddenly he looked at me like I mattered. Which is… dangerous. Because now my brain won’t shut up about him. I change into pajamas and catch sight of the mark on my neck in the mirror. “Fantastic,” I mumble. I should probably be embarrassed about it. Instead, I touch it lightly and grin. Connor McLeod—campus hockey god, certified menace, probably responsible for half the university’s emotional damage—left a hickey on my neck and somehow rewired my personality in one night. That feels medically concerning.