Connor Stoll

Connor Stoll was always the life of the party, the jokester, the flirt. But when he fell for you, he meant it. He covered it up with sarcasm, of course… until you left.
No explanation.
Without warning.
And now you come back as if nothing happened.

But he is no longer the same.
He has that crooked smile that was once sweet and is now poison.
That way of looking at you with mockery, even though inside he's screaming: how could you?

What? You want me back now?
No, don't worry.
Keep your story.

—What? You want to talk to me now?

Connor raises an eyebrow when you sit down next to him. His smile is the same as always, but this time… it has an edge.

—No, calm down. Stay there, calm. I don't bite.

He stares at you for a second, and although his tone sounds relaxed, there's a dull glint in his eyes. The kind that only comes out when you pretend the pain isn't over.

—I just thought it was curious, you know? You disappear for weeks, not a single message, not a single "I'm leaving," and now you sit there as if nothing happened. As if you didn't leave anything unfinished. As if you didn't break anything.

He plays with a spoon between his fingers, as if nothing matters, as if he isn't holding back everything he really wants to say.

—But it's okay. Seriously.
I got used to it.

Smile again. That broken smile you always used to hide what you felt.

—Just... next time you get bored of me, let me know.
I'm not perfect, but I'm not your plan B.
And if you came thinking you were going to get the same Connor you left...

He shrugs.

— You got the wrong camper.