Owen and I carried on, helping Amelia walk. She was only a couple inches taller and weighed a few more pounds than me, but she might as well have weighed a ton. Walking back to the dorm took a lot longer than getting to the party did. We had to stop a few times so I could catch my breath; we also stopped to let Amelia throw up. On the last leg of the walk, Owen carried her in his arms with her passed out against his chest.
The dorm was fairly empty when arrived. Owen sat Amelia on the floor of the elevator, and we rode up in silence. When we reached our floor, he swooped Amelia back into his arms and followed me to our room. I unlocked the door, flicked on the light, and moved to the side so he could enter first. I pulled the covers back on her bed and he set her down gently on the mattress. He carefully removed her heels, tucked her feet in, and pulled the blankets over her.
“Shouldn’t we take her to the hospital?” I asked, breaking the silence. “This isn’t because of alcohol.” I was starting to panic.
“They drugged her,” he said, his voice thick with anger. “That fucking bas—” His words trailed off. Owen placed his hands on my shoulders to stop me from pacing the room. “Relax,” he said softly. “She’s going to be okay.”
“Okay?” I panicked again. “She is not going to be okay. She needs to see a doctor. We have no idea what they put into her drink.”
“She’s going to be fine,” he repeated, trying to reassure me. “Unfortunately, this kind of thing happens in college. It’s not the first time I’ve seen this, and I know she’ll be fine. She just needs to sleep it off. If she isn’t better in the morning, we’ll take her in to be checked out. I promise.”
I wasn’t convinced. She needed to be seen. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. I couldn’t let anything happen to her. I was about to grab my phone and call an ambulance when he pulled me into his arms. “I promise she’s going to be okay,” he whispered in my ear.
His breath sent goose bumps down my spine. My tense body relaxed into his arms. I took comfort in his scent. Then I started to cry. Owen said nothing and just held me as the tears flowed onto his shirt. He rubbed my back and held me as close as he possibly could.
“Thank you,” I told him softly, regaining control of my emotions. I pulled back and stared into his eyes. He kept one hand firmly on my lower back and used the other to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. He cupped my cheek and I leaned into his hand.
“I promise she’s going to be okay,” he repeated himself. “I’ll stay here and make sure of it.”
The sentiment took me by surprise and sent my heart spiraling out of control. I pulled away and turned from him. “You don’t have to do that,” I said so quietly that I wasn’t sure he heard.
“I want to,” he whispered back. He took a step forward. I took a step back, putting distance between us. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “I’m going to my room to change real fast, but I’ll be right back.”
I stood there for several long seconds before I realized that I should change as well. I rummaged quietly through my things until I found my black pajama shorts and one of my father’s alumni shirts. I just slipped the shirt on as a soft rap comes across the door. I opened it, moved aside, and let him in.
He was wearing a plain white shirt and a pair of dark green basketball shorts that had “Ducks” written in yellow down one side. I closed the door and remained close to it, unsure of what to do next.
“Wrong school, don’t you think?” he asked.
“Huh?” I said, a little too quickly. Then I realized he was referring to my shirt. “Oh yeah,” I added. “It’s my dad’s. Everyone in my family has either went to or is going to UW. My two brothers are juniors there now.”
“Except for you,” he pointed out. “So why Oregon? Why break the family tradition?”
He asked the same question everyone else had, but this time, I wanted to be honest with my response. I wanted to tell him that I needed to get away. That I was suffocating at home. Everyone was breathing down my neck, keeping a close eye on me, and waiting for me to break.
“Why not?” I shrugged my shoulders. “What about you?”
“It beats Harvard,” he answered plainly. I sensed there was more to it than met the eyes.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to the wadded pile I just noticed in his arms.
“Blanket and a pillow.” I looked at him funny and he smiled. “Gotta make sure I’m nice and comfy. The floors here feel like you’re sleeping on a pile of rocks.”
I hadn’t stopped to think where he was going to sleep. I couldn’t have him sleeping on the floor. Certainly not after everything he’d done for Amelia.
“You could sleep with me,” I said, not choosing my words wisely. Owen grinned mischievously. I flushed, realizing how that sounded. “I meant with me . . . on my bed, of course.”
“Of course you did.” He smiled again, causing a flutter in my stomach.
“Why is everyone screaming?” Amelia shouted, startling me.
I jumped and looked to Owen. He held his finger up to his lips, tiptoed to the door, and flicked off the overhead light. Moonlight filtered through the open curtains, illuminating the room. It was bright enough to make out the features of his face. He pointed toward the bed, and I slowly nodded.
I climbed on to the bed first, pressing myself as close to the wall as I possibly could. It’s not that I’ve never shared a bed with a guy—because I had—but not one I was incredibly attracted to. It made me nervous.
Owen crossed the room and stood beside my bed. I felt the weight of his stare on me. “You sure you’re comfortable with this?” he asked gently. I nodded slightly. “I have no problem with sleeping on the floor.”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay then, we can put a pillow between us. I promise no funny business.” He chuckled softly. I was comforted by the fact he wasn’t going to try anything, but slightly disappointed too.
He laid next to me and I could feel the heat coming from his body. My breathing hitched as his arm grazed mine while he shifted around on the twin-size mattress, placing a pillow between us. Once he was satisfied, he laid on his back, with one arm on his stomach, and the other tucked behind his head. I looked back to him and couldn’t quit staring as he gazed up toward the ceiling.
“You know”—he looked at me—“you never answered my question.”
“What question?”
“Why did you choose to go here?”
“You first,” I said in a hushed tone.
He chuckled. “My cousin’s a senior here. He talked me into it, I guess.”
“Sam, right?” I said, hoping I remembered the correct name. It was an easy enough name to not forget.
“I saw the two of you talking earlier,” he said. I let out a quiet sigh of relief and took his cousin off my “creeper” list. “Talk about anything interesting?”
I weighed my options; I could lie and tell him no, or I could tell him the truth. See how he’d react. I chose the latter. “You,” I answered, not giving him anything else.
He rolled onto his side and propped himself up with his elbow. “Really?” He raised an eyebrow and looked into my eyes. “Do tell.”
“Well,” I started. “He said you were a ladies’ man. That you weren’t the commitment type and that I should stay away because heartbreak was inevitable.”
I clamped my mouth shut, unable to believe I actually told him. He didn’t respond. All he did was stare at me, his face void of expression. I could feel the energy building between us. The sudden desire to kiss him was overwhelming, but I didn’t. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t make a move. Instead I kept gazing into his beautiful green eyes. Owen looked away first, sighing, returning to his back. The air was thick and the silence was excruciating. He groaned and rubbed his face with both hands.
“He’s right,” he said, matter-of-factly. “You should stay away from me.”
He rolled to his other side, his back facing me, and exhaled a deep breath. I
laid there, staring at the back of his head, replaying his words over and over again. Hearing him confirm it himself sucked more than when Sam said it. In fact, it hurt. I’d only known him for approximately twenty-four hours, give or take, and I was already in over my head. But I didn’t want Owen to be what he and his cousin said he was, so I chose not to believe it. Not after what he’d done for Amelia tonight—no. Only a good man would do something like that—only a good man with a heart that was kind and true . . .
I sighed.
“You know, I don’t think you’re as bad as everyone thinks you are,” I said quietly. “Including yourself.”
I turned over and tried to let the exhaustion consume me, but I was restless The bed kept shifting as Owen kept his word, and got up sporadically to check on Amelia, who snored like a bear all night long. Only when the sun started to rise on the horizon did the both of us succumb to sleep.
FIVE
MY CHEST FELT HEAVY. I struggled to catch my breath, and it seemed like I was soaked to the bone. My eyes fluttered open and the first thing I saw was a head full of blond hair. I blinked a few times, adjusting my vision to the blinding sunlight bursting through the window.
I tried to move into a more comfortable position but didn’t get very far. Owen covered the majority of my upper body with half of his. His head rose and fell with every shallow breath I took. I wiggled again, trying to get some breathing room. His left arm, the one draped over my abdomen, tightened around me. He started to stir and my body froze. With each breath, his freshwater scent surrounded me. As he settled back down, I started to gently move around again. Each movement took three times as long as it normally would.
While I liked being this close to him, he radiated heat like a furnace, which made it extremely difficult to breath.
“Stop moving,” he muttered. My body listened to his command. He lifted his head, keeping his arm around me, and gazed into my eyes. Our noses were only a couple inches apart. “Mornin’, sunshine.”
He brushed a strand of hair out of my face. My heart kicked into gear, beating rampantly. Our lips were nearly touching. He was so close yet so far away.
“Oh God . . .” Amelia’s hoarse voice broke the moment.
Owen moved lightning quick. He pushed himself into an upright position. All I could do was lay there, stunned, unable to figure out what just happened between us. The pull was so strong. I had never wanted to kiss anyone as much as I wanted to kiss him.
The desire, the need for that connection, for that kiss, was out of this realm. I’d never felt like I might’ve died if I didn’t feel the touch of his lips on mine. Whatever force was pulling us together frightened me.
While a fling might be fun, there was an endless wave of guys on campus I could have fun with. If I hadn’t made the promise, that is. But he was an enigma, and the enigma drew me to him. There was more to him than what prying eyes could see. But Owen wasn’t the commitment type, which was a recipe for disaster. A disaster I needed to distance myself from—no matter how hard it would be.
“What . . .” Amelia pulled me from my thoughts. She tried to sit up but was too weak, and she collapsed back on the bed. It nearly broke my heart. “. . . happened last night?”
“You, uh . . .” My voice cracked. I looked to Owen for help. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t tell her what happened and what might’ve happened after that. Owen reached under the blanket, grabbed my hand, and lightly squeezed it.
He cleared his throat. “You partied a little too hard last night.” My face dropped. He lied to her. Why wasn’t he telling her the truth? He looked at me and shook his head. I opened my mouth to say something but he shook his head again.
“What are you doing here?” Amelia asked, using all her strength to push herself up into a sitting position. She had a wide grin dancing across her face. “Did you stay the night?” Neither of us answered. Her feeble attempt to squeal warmed my heart. She still had the same enthusiastic spirit. “You did, didn’t you? Did you two wrestle naked last night?”
I should’ve seen that coming. She propped a pillow behind her back while glancing between the both of us.
“No,” Owen answered, quickly and sharply. There was a sudden edge to his voice that made me think he was angry. Angry about what though? I had no idea. “I helped get you home and stayed to keep an eye on you. That’s all that happened.”
“Well, damn.” She tried to laugh. “I was look for a juicy story. Details and all.”
She winked at me. I wanted to crawl under the covers and hide. I was happy to see that she seemed to be her usual self despite how embarrassed I was. Owen was right. She was okay, just like he said she would be. He released my hand and stood up quickly.
“I need to get going,” he said.
He scooped up his blanket and pillow and left the room before anyone could say anything. Amelia looked at me, raising an eyebrow, and motioned to the door as if to ask what was up with the sudden departure. I shrugged. I had no idea what was going on with him.
“Well,” she said, “go after him.”
I stayed still for a minute. I didn’t want to leave her. Then my feet started to move before my brain could register what I was doing. By the time I realized it, I was standing in front of his door, and knocking. He didn’t answer. I knocked again . . . and again . . . and again. I had just about given up when I decided to try one last time. Midway through the knock, the door flew open.
“What?” Owen shouted.
I blinked and took a step back. There it was, the unexplained anger. But where was it coming from? His face was a red as an apple and his jaw was clenched. He glared at me. It was like my presence alone was pissing him off. I wanted to turn around, go back to my room, and pretend the last twelve or so hours never happened. My feet wouldn’t budge.
“Why did you lie to her?” I asked. He looked past me toward my door, grabbed my hand, and pulled me into his room. He closed the door, and took a few steps away from me. I glanced around his room.
The first thing I noticed was how pristine and organized it was. Nothing was out of place. His bed was neatly made. There were no clothes strewn about, and his wall were barren—no photos or posters or anything. Books were stacked on a corner bookshelf. Even his shoes were neatly lined up in a perfect row along the far wall. It was definitely not what I expected. I thought all boys were the same in college—messy. It was mind-boggling. I’d almost bet that if I were to open his closet or dresser, everything would’ve been color coordinated.
“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice rugged and low. I looked and saw his hand clenched at his sides. I was intimidated but I wasn’t going to let it show.
“Why did you lie?” I challenged.
“To save her,” he answered.
I stared at him in confusion. “Save her from what?”
“Herself,” he whispered. He seemed to relax a little, but maybe some of his anger was rubbing off onto me because I could feel it build as my body tensed.
“You had no right to lie.” I clenched my teeth.
“Look,” he said. He stepped closer to me. “Imagine if it was you. How would you have felt if you woke up with no recollection of the night before and had someone tell you that you were drugged? That someone had potentially tried to hurt you.”
“Upset.” My body eased as I felt the anger die down. “And afraid.”
“Afraid,” he repeated. “That’s why I didn’t tell her. If I had, she’d be afraid of going out. She’d be afraid of school. She wouldn’t get to enjoy college life. These are supposed to be the best years of our lives. I couldn’t take that away from her.”
I threw all my inhibitions out the window and closed the space between us. Promise be damned. Womanizer or not. I was jumping in headfirst and couldn’t see the bottom. It was a mistake, and I knew it. But I also knew I’d never do this again. Just one kiss—all I needed was that one kiss, and I’d go on with life.
Before I ha
d the chance to second-guess myself, I pulled his face toward mine. Our lips touched, igniting a fire in me that I didn’t know I possessed. It was slow at first, our nerves controlling the situation. Then desire took over and I melted into his arms. Our tongues darted around each other. I pressed my body against his as much as I could, unable to get close enough. His hands roamed along my back. He held me tight, moaning lustfully. I never wanted it to end. As the kiss slowed, our breathing became ragged. I tugged on his bottom lip with my teeth, causing him to moan again.
“I told you that you weren’t so bad,” I whispered, breathless, my lips brushing against his. I felt his body tense, and he suddenly pulled away.
“Stop,” Owen said, struggling to catch his breath. “I . . . you . . . we can’t do this. You need to leave . . . now.”
I couldn’t believe he was the one telling me to stop. That he was pushing me away. That he was sending me away. Anger began simmering within me again.
There was something there, something in that kiss, that I couldn’t describe. It was like all the planets had aligned with the sun. It felt so right, despite how terribly wrong I knew it was. I wanted to kick myself in the ass. I never should’ve kissed him. And now I knew one kiss was never going to be enough. So now I’d have to live with seeing him almost every day and not being able to touch him. It’s funny how one kiss can change everything—even if it was with a complete stranger, because really that’s what he was—a stranger.
“Brennan.” The way he said my name made me to jump. “Leave. Now.”
I spun on my heels, exited his room, and slammed the door behind me. Screw him! If Owen wanted to kick me out after a kiss like that, then so be it. It was just a kiss. It wasn’t like I was asking him to get married tomorrow. Hell, I wasn’t even asking for a relationship. So why was he getting bent out of shape over a kiss? Better yet, why was I?
“So,” Amelia said as I entered our room and plopped down on my bed. “Nothing really happened between the two of you last night?”
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