"I accept your fucking apology, but I still want you to leave! Do you really think that two words are going to fix years of a messed up relationship? Is that what your fucking therapist told you?" she spat.
He growled. "My fucking therapist has nothing to do with this, thank you very much."
Zoe cocked her eyebrow. It took her years of practice to learn the skill so many novel characters seemed to be born with.
"Then what was it that made the Connor Murphy decide to come in here like a dog with its tail between its legs?" Zoe asked, chuckling at the thought. Connor looked down and to the right. He was unconsciously picking at a hangnail and one of his feet started tapping the floor.
"Well...It's a friend of mine," he mumbled.
"Hmm. I'm surprised you have a "friend" who's trying to do anything other than selling you drugs," Zoe stated bluntly.
"Don't you speak about him that way," Connor snarled, his demeanor quickly changing back to the explosive Zoe had known for years.
"So it's true, then?" she asked, doing the eyebrow thing again.
"Yes," he growled, attempting to discreetly pinch his thigh.
"Ha! I never thought I'd live to see the day," Zoe taunted him, faking falling backward onto her bed like an airhead princess with her arm over her forehead.
Connor stared at her, menace itching behind his eyes to be released, but he held himself still. Zoe perked back up and grinned at him as if nothing ever happened.
"Do you need anything?" she asked as though he had just walked in.
"No," he replied, "Just to apologize, and to give you this." He tossed a book onto her bed and speed-walked out before he could see her reaction.
She glared at the door to her room and got up and closed it before inspecting the book Connor had thrown on her bed. How could he do that? Throwing books was extremely disrespectful in her mind.
She picked it up, ready to be disgusted. Ready to leave it back on Connor's bed (and set it down gently). Not expecting to be pleasantly surprised.