Connor Stoll Novels & Stories

A ringtone sliced through the silence. Maverick answered. Connor's voice came in hot—"Where's Stelly? Her phone's been off for three days!" Hearing him nearly broke me. At least someone still gave a damn whether I was alive. I started crying and couldn't stop. "Stelly?" Maverick scoffed, face twisted. "Cute. Real close, huh? Where she went isn't your problem. Or what—did she drag you in again to play the loyal sidekick in another one of her little acts?

His shoulders relax, and he nods. I reply to Connor. -Nora: I’m in. -Connor: Can’t wait. See you at 11? -Nora: Deal. -Connor: Wear something nice. I smile at my phone. Connor’s one of the best-looking guys at school—rugby player, built like a tank, with a face to match. We've never kissed, but I wouldn’t mind changing that. I look at the selfie next to his number. Cute. My eyes wander to the math book lying in the kitchen. I wonder, would Mr. Adkins have a selfie on his W******p? Doesn’t seem like the type, but... I’m curious.

A man like that needed to be stopped at all costs. “Did you limit your search to just America?” I asked. Connor was based in Austria, and there was probably a chance they would find something if they focused on Austria instead. “Of course not. My team did as much digging as they could, but Connor is clearly a smart man. For some reason, he managed to hide all past records of him, and those records can not be anything good.” Aaron answered, and I couldn’t hide the disappointed sigh that escaped my lips as I felt a headache creep onto my skull.

Silence followed. “You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, Dad! I caught Stacy fucking another guy when she was at college and I broke it off.” Connor’s face was a tortured mask. “Everyone makes mistakes…” his father lifted his hands in defense. Unbelievable. Troy was still defending the little bitch. “I just didn’t tell you because I was fucking heartbroken, okay? It took me a while to get over her. Now please, shut up and let Cassie explain.” Connor extended his hand to me, but I was reluctant to leave the safety of my father’s brawny arms.

After grilling the hamburgers, Connor sits beside me and says in confidence. “Don’t s… say it to the gu… guys, but I’m go… going to do a trea… treatment to stu… stu… stutter.” Connie stares at me looking for some support and I don’t know what to say. Connie, among the Vaugh brothers, is the most handsome, his brown livid eyes, dark hair, tanned, with a strong and masculine Adonis body, that the symbol of Greek beauty would die of envy. I don’t think the fact that he stutter makes him a bad man. In the end I actually think his charming in his half shy clumsy way.

“You’re going to make everyone cry.” “Maybe,” I said, feeling a warm flutter in my chest. Then I heard his voice. Across the parking lot, Connor leaned against his car, backpack slung over one shoulder, smiling like the world belonged to him — or maybe like I belonged to him . “Hey, Sparrow!” he called. Chelsea and Laila stopped in mid-step, eyebrows raised. “Sparrow?” Chelsea whispered. “It’s… a thing,” I muttered, cheeks heating. Connor waved, grinning. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

“Yo, Con,“ I shout before I can get to me. He looks up. The girls clock my expression and make themselves scarce without being asked. I close the distance between us and put my fist across his face before he can finish forming a response. He stumbles back into the wall, hand flying to his jaw. “What the actual—“ “Next time you touch Dawn,“ I say, low and surprisingly calm, “I will make sure you never hold a stick again.“ I watch his expression move from shock to anger to something more calculating as he straightens up and works out what I am actually saying. Connor is going pro. We both know it. He was drafted the same cycle I was, and come the end of this season we will be teammates at Bost