Connor
Edward's eyes instantly darkened when they met mine, his lips pressed into a hard line of clear distaste as I approached the table. The coaches taking time to greet each other before the captains. He looked different, better if I dare say. He had cut his blonde hair a lot shorter on the sides and back leaving a short length of messy tousled hair at the front.
In nineteen months his face had hardened to look more mature, the planes of his face more angled, rougher, more beautiful that I would have ever imagined them to be. I had missed two of his birthdays. Now at twenty-six he looked a lot more like a man than the pretty boy I had grown accustomed too.
"Edward," I breathed when I finally had the chance to stand in front of him, my hand outstretched to shake his. My heart thundering in my chest as he stared at it and I could see he almost contemplated not touching it at all.
