Best-Friends With Benefits (Under Reconstruction)

Chapter 39- Chain Reaction

Life is complicated.

When I woke up the following morning, now that my head was clear and I could think straight again, I realized that I had possibly overreacted last night over what Conner had said.

I mean sure, it was no doubt sexist, and if some random dude had come up to me with such a comment I would have likely socked him in the eye.

But I had to remind myself that this wasn't just some random dude.

Conner was not only my boyfriend, but also my best friend, who knew me completely and hadn't run away screaming. Well, so far anyways.

I knew that he hadn't meant to insult me, which he so obliviously did. In his perspective, he was just being the caring-borderline-overprotective guy that I was so deeply in love with. Which under different circumstances would have been completely romantic, and maybe even a little chivalrous.

But here's where things got complicated.

A large part of me, didn't want to forgive him.

Admittedly, our official 'first fight' as a couple was surprisingly appealing. As 'just friends', we had hardly ever argued over anything major, aside from the occasional tickle fight. (Which I definitely won.) So experiencing our small lovers spat felt guiltily exciting, in a embarrassingly selfishly point  of view.

In fact, I was beginning to believe that people secretly lived for such conflicts. After all, if there were no bad times to be had, then technically there would be no good times either. How can life be worth living without the exciting achievement of overcoming obstacles?

But mostly, my pride absolutely refused to let him win.

I could imagine what Sam would say if I told him such a situation. He would probably roll his eyes an snort 'Typical Selena'.

And it nearly killed to to admit that he would be right.

Even I knew that prolonging a fight solely on my stubbornness to admit defeat, was entirely pointless. 

But regardless, something in my genetic composition made me admirably, annoyingly, and irrevocably unable to admit defeat.

The mere thought of Conner's triumphant and overly-smug grin after my submission, made my blood boil under my skin. I was certain that such a disagreement could possibly end horribly and ruin my life, but regardless I was still determined to at least not admit that I was wrong, even if it lead to my downfall and overall demise.

I was a taller and less violent version of Napoleon.

So in other words, I was awkwardly caught between a rock and a hard place, the rock being Conner and the hard place also being Conner.

Well this sucks.

So when I woke up the next morning, flush against Conner's side, I had to force myself not to wake him while I got ready for school. Which was only made more impossible by the pounding hangover I was experiencing.

Note to self: No more clubbing on school nights.

So I tiptoed around the room with a hand held to my pulsing headache, stumbling around in the dark as I got ready for school.

When I was finally presentable, I couldn't help but look back at Conner's sleeping form longingly. At the mere sight of him, I had to swallow the intense urge to just give in and return to cuddling into his side. He was still fast asleep, his pink lips slightly parted and his hair an absolutely chaotic mess. (It didn't help that he was pretty much naked too.)