Taming McGregor

The Pressing Conference

There are at least three words synonymous with the existence of Conor McGregor- the very least. Chaos. Sociopathic. Whiplash. Good Lord, does Conor give me whiplash; A whiplash so fucking hard I think my spine is my sternum and my rib cage is somewhere in my ass. He was doing so well, so calm in fact that I said if he acted an ass I would ignore it. Hell, you eventually reward a child if they've been good right? Conor just proves that there's always a calm before a storm. And fuck, it's his speciality when it comes to storms.

The press conference was a fucking nightmare. Not for Dana, red in the face and lapping up all the unhinged animosity coming from Conor as the man yelled, cussed, and even belittled Khabib's family live in front of the press. He was just raking the money in, feigning concern that the men won't break into a fight right then and there like I'm sure Conor wanted to. It would cost Dana literal millions.

But see, that's the thing with Conor. He seemed like he had finally came to terms that whatever happens would happen in the octagon and that was that. The tweets weren't crazy, he wasn't in the media for the wrong shit. However I guess all of that progress flew out the window as soon as he laid eyes upon him. I have to say that I was disappointed in him, and he knew that. I said I would give him a pass, but you give an inch and- well you know the rest.
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"Oy."
........
"Areslani."
........
"C'mon, just say whatever it is. I'm sure it's something."

"You're a fucking idiot, Conor." That's my curt reply. Conor takes a deep sigh and then I feel his hands on my shoulders. "What?"

He frowns, "I'm sorry. He just... bugs me. Irritates the shit outta' me."

"That's not- I'm not even mad about the way you acted like a child who didn't get his way because that's pretty routine at this point." I close my laptop, grabbing his hands to remove from my person when he slyly interlocks our fingers.

"But you're mad and I don't like when you're mad."

"When am I not mad at you, honestly?" I let him slide with the motion. I hate how he's getting under my skin little by little.

He purses his lips, "Fair enough, but you're really mad. Almost as mad as when I broke your door."

I scoff, "That's a memory I'd like to never recall again. And I'm not mad at all Conor. I'm just... I don't know. I expected better I guess?" And that was true. I didn't want to flat out tell him he disappointed me because who likes hearing they're a disappointment to anyone? He has his moments like we all do. Probably more frequent than the normal person though.

"Tell me baby. Just say it."

Baby? Anyways I take a deep breath, "You planned this, Conor. The shit you said up there wasn't just bullshit you spew. You did research, you had connections, hell you had actual receipts!"

Conor nods, "And what's so wrong about that? I needed facts to get in his head."

"Conor you planned it all while acting calm in front of me! Don't you get it? You were acting like the perfect little client to ward me away from what you really wanted, and that was tonight wasn't it? You knew that confessing some feelings about me would get me to avoid you and so you-"

"-Are you serious?" He turns my chair so that we are now facing each other, "My feelings had nuttin' to do with that guy and you know it! You're just projecting to deny the fact that you're attracted to me- probably more than you are to your own fuckin' boyfriend! Hell if he actually kept an eye on you, he'd see the chemistry we really have."

"Conor, shut the fuck up-"

"Or what, huh? What's the big bad Ares gonna do about it? Run from her feelings some more?" He's pushing too far and he's way too fucking close. I feel like my breath keeps falling into his orbit, his lips. He's stealing my words, my thoughts, and now my fucking air.