Chapter Three

SAN FRANCISCO

"Oh my God!" The man jumped out of his car and rushed over to Connor. The kid had flown up in the air and rolled off the back of the car. "Let me call an ambulance," he whipped out a cell and began dialing numbers.

Connor sat up, rubbing his forehead, and then he touched the back of his head, and felt stickiness. Bringing his hand back, he saw that it was covered in blood.

"No, I'm fine, uh, sir. You don't have to do that." When the man pressed send, Connor reached up, and, snatching the phone, punched the end button. "Just an injury on the back of my head, but I'll be ok."

"Ok, bro," the man replied. "Let me at least get you to a hospital, just to get you checked out and make sure it's all good."

Connor tried to protest, but as he climbed to his feet, pain and nausea overcame him and he felt himself losing consciousness.

When Dawn awoke the next morning in Theresa's apartment and looked in the mirror, she wasn't surprised to see several bruises. The ball-throwing fight had been painful, but she smiled as she recalled the kiss.

He had walked her home after they got kicked out of McDonald's, and they talked a little about their backgrounds. Connor had gotten her home and cell numbers, and gave her his. Of course, they had kissed goodnight.

Dawn took a shower then went down to eat with Theresa, since apparently her friends were still asleep. Bums. She'd gotten home later than them but still woke up earlier.

Theresa was lying on her side on the floor with a magazine and a bowl of cereal. Dawn poured herself a bowl and sat on the couch. The news was on. She would've preferred her morning cartoons or "Saved by the Bell" reruns, but she was too happy from the previous night to make a fuss.

She had finished her breakfast and stood up to take her bowl to the sink when a news reel caught her attention. "..Seventeen year old Connor Conceitti was hit by a car at Merlin Avenue..."

Dawn didn't hear anything else and her eyes widened, and she felt like she couldn't breathe. "Take me to the hospital."

When Dawn reached Connor's door, there were several people in the waiting room. Family, she assumed. She stuck her head into his room and saw that he was alone, sleeping.

Stepping in, she closed the door behind her and approached his bed. Her throat tightened as she took his hand in hers. His face was bruised. She whispered his name, her eyes filling with tears.

Connor's hand squeezed back, startling Dawn. "Hey," he said softly. He saw Dawn's face. "No, don't cry. I'm ok, no severe injuries. They just wanted to run some tests on me, and make sure I was 100% healthy Connor." He stroked her hair as she sank onto his bed.

"I'm sorry, I'm such a baby. I've had a lot of losses in my life. My mom, a couple of friends, my sister..." she wiped her eyes.

"So who do you live with now?" Connor asked, sitting up.

"My sister," Dawn blurted without thinking. "But enough about me. I heard your name on the news, and freaked. I made Theresa drop me off," she changed the subject.

"I'm glad you were worried. I mean, not worried, but-," he paused, thinking about how he wanted to word it.

"Enough to come see you?" Dawn finished for him.

"Yeah," he nodded, "That."

Dawn smiled. "Well, I'm glad that you're glad." She had been leaning in, without realizing it, and now their foreheads were nearly touching. They pressed their lips together, hungry for the other's taste.

Just then the door opened and, startled, Connor fell back on his pillow, Dawn falling, too, out of surprise.

"Oh, uh, um, hi, Mom, Dad," Connor stammered. Dawn wanted to die. How humiliating. "This is Dawn."

Dawn lifted her head up, sure that her face was as red as a tomato. "Uh, hello, Mrs. and Mr. Conceitti." She leapt off the bed. "I'll be outside waiting." She smiled and nodded at his parents as she hurried out of the room.

Connor hoped his parents wouldn't bring up what had just happened, but no such luck.

"Who was that girl? I thought you were seeing Ella," his mother wondered.

"We broke up," Connor answered. "I met Dawn at Harper's last night."

There was a knock on the door and a nurse walked in carrying a huge bouquet of flowers with an envelope.

"Connor Conceitti, delivery from Wolfram and Hart," she cleared room on the table that was the nearest to Connor, and set it down, handing him the envelope.

"Why would Wolfram and Hart send you flowers?" Both of his parents questioned at the same time.