We high-fived each other, and then I gave one to Callen, but when I turned to Owen, he picked me up in his arms and spun me around. I held my head back, laughing. As he slowed, my body slowly slid down his, the cheers around us fading. It was just the two of us.
His lips hovered over mine. I closed my eyes, waiting . . . hoping . . .
“That was unbelievably awesome!” Amelia shouted, pulling me from his arms. I glanced over my shoulder—Owen was rubbing the back of his neck. We had been so close, his lips mere centimeters from mine. “Have I told you that you’re the best roommate I have ever had?”
I laughed. “I’m the only roommate you’ve ever had.”
“You’re still the best!” she cheered.
As Amelia continued rambling about the game, I watched the guys. Callen had his hand on Owen’s shoulder, and Owen looked very frustrated. His forehead was creased all over with lines, and I could see him grinding his teeth. Callen said something in his ear, and Owen seemed to relax. They did the whole half-hug thing that guys seemed to do—they shook hands, pulled closed, and clapped each other on the back. Owen’s eyes fell on mine, and I glanced away.
As the crowd dispersed, we slowly trekked our way to the exit, wading our way through lingering fans. As we reached the shuttle bus in the parking lot, I noticed Owen wasn’t with us.
“Where’s Owen?” I asked.
“He took off,” Callen answered. “Something about a celebration party.”
“Celebration party?” Amelia chimed in. “And that bastard didn’t invite us?” She growled. “Have I said how much I hate that guy?”
Callen and I exchanged looks, chuckled, and shook our heads. Not even six hours ago, she was declaring her love for him, and now she hated him? I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again—the girl was something else.
“There’s going to be plenty of parties all over campus tonight,” Callen said. “I’m sure we can find one if you guys wanted to.”
“Hell yeah, I do,” Amelia said loudly. “You in, Brenn?”
Both of them stared at me, waiting for an answer. As I mulled it over in my head, I knew I didn’t want to go. I was feeling fine until Owen just disappeared without even a word to me. Not only that, but I really didn’t like parties, that hadn’t changed. I only indulged last weekend because of Amelia.
“I’m not feeling up to it,” I answered. Amelia’s excitement faltered. I could see the disappointment lurking in her eyes. “But you guys go . . .”
“I don’t want to leave you alone,” she said. “Especially not after you taking us to the game.”
Someone else didn’t have a problem with it . . . I thought.
“Go.” I encouraged her. “Have fun. I have a paper to do, and I won’t get it done with you around anyways.”
Amelia flicked her eyes back and forth, glancing between Callen and me. “Are you sure?” she asked. I could sense the hesitation in her voice.
“Of course I’m sure,” I reassured her. “You two will have a blast.”
Amelia nodded. I offered her a smile, and it seemed to perk her up a bit.
“You and me buddy,” she said, wrapping an arm around Callen’s shoulder. “We’re going to own this town after tonight.”
“Should I be afraid?” he joked.
A maniacal laugh came from Amelia’s mouth. She gave him a wicked grin and patted his cheek. “Surfer boy, you have no idea what you’re about to get into.”
***
After we got back to the dorm, I pulled my laptop out of my bag. My browser was still open to my Facebook page, and I started typing Owen’s name into the search bar but stopped. I took several breaths before typing in his last name. After sorting through hundreds of Owen Scotts and finally finding one who was mutual friends with Callen, I figured out which one was Owen’s profile.
I hovered over his picture, unsure if I was actually going to click on it. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed the button without giving it another thought. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but I wasn’t surprised with what I saw: post after post and comment after comment from random girls. They ranged from the general “Hey, what’s up?” to the not-very-ladylike comments such as “You’re hot—let’s hook up sometime.” It was the same thing, over and over and over. The only consistency I noticed was that Owen barely posted anything—if ever at all.
I snooped around on his page, hoping to find something from him, but didn’t have any luck. The door opened, and I quickly closed my laptop. Amelia entered the room, eyeing me curiously, like she had just caught me doing something inappropriate. I felt my cheeks flush and looked away.
“Are you sure you’re okay staying in tonight?” she asked, slipping something over her head.
I glanced up as she pulled the strapless dress into place. “I’m fine,” I said. She narrowed her eyes. “Seriously, I have a paper due for my mythology class on Monday, and I haven’t even started yet.”
She remained quiet for a few minutes. She pulled out a pair of cherry red heels and strapped them onto her feet. “Okay,” she finally said. “But if you get bored and you want me home, just call my cell, and I’ll come running.”
“Yes, Mother,” I teased.
“I’m serious, Brennan,” she said, crossing the room. She sat at the foot of my bed and stared at me. “I haven’t forgotten about yesterday. I’m worried about you.”
“I appreciate that and all, but there really isn’t anything to worry about.”
She nodded once before standing up and finished getting ready. An hour later, Callen swung by the room to pick her up, and they left. I opened my laptop again, but quickly closed the browser. I opened a new Word document and started working on my paper—“Greek Myths: An Overview.”
It took me most of the night to write the paper. After several rounds of edits and hitting the delete key one too many times, I finally finished. It was almost one in the morning, and Amelia still wasn’t back yet. I sent an e-mail to my parents checking in per our agreement—so long as I sent them a weekly e-mail, they’d promised not to call every five seconds to check on me. After I was done, I felt exhausted and ready for sleep. I changed out of my clothes, wiped the last few smudges of paint off my face, climbed into bed and was asleep before my head even hit the pillow.
The weekend slowly slipped by, and I didn’t see Owen. Maybe he didn’t come back to his room, or maybe I didn’t run into him while he was there, but our paths didn’t cross. Not that I was staking out his door or anything—I just paid closer attention to the traffic at our end of the hall than most probably did.
By Sunday night, I had all but given up on catching him in the hall. I had a burning desire to question him about what happened after the football game, but even if I did find him, I wasn’t really sure what I’d get from him. But I needed something—anything that would justify his sudden disappearance. Finally, around midnight, I forced myself to go to bed. I had class tomorrow, and that was more important than some green-eyed, shaggy-haired stud across the hall. I lay there for hours, wired and staring at the ceiling, before finally drifting off to sleep.
NINE
“WHO CAN TELL ME the story about Pyramus and Thisbe?” a deep, velvety voice echoed throughout the room.
Exasperated, I pulled my eyes up from the papers on top of my desk, unsure if I wanted to see my suspicions confirmed. As soon as my gaze fell on a pair of bright green eyes, I knew I hadn’t imagined the voice. There was Owen, standing at the front of the class. My stomach flipped. What the hell was he doing there?
“Anybody?” he continued. Owen scanned the huge room. “You . . .” His eyes settled on me.
“Me?” I asked, my voice shaky. My mouth instantly became dry.
“Yes, Ms. Daniels,” he assured me. “What’s the story with Pyramus and Thisbe?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. I could feel my classmates glaring at me as they waited for an answer. I wasn’t too familiar with the people Owen was askin
g about—they held little interest to me.
“Short version or long?” I asked, straightening up.
Owen smirked. He leaned against the desk that stood at the front of the room. “Either one works for me.”
I took a deep breath, ignoring the knots in the pit of my stomach, and plunged into the story. “Boy and girl meet and they fall in love. Both their families hate one another, forbidding anything to come of their love. The couple makes plans to elope and arrange a meeting place so they can run away together. When the boy arrives, he thinks something has happened to his love, and kills himself out of despair. The girl finds his body, decides she can’t live without him, and kills herself as well.” The room was quiet. “That about sums it up.”
Okay, I though, so maybe I knew a pretty good amount about the story.
Owen nodded his head. “And what popular work has been inspired by this tragic love story?” He directed the question at me, but others raised their hands.
“Romeo and Juliet!” A female voice shouted from the other side of the room.
“Very good, Miss . . . ?” Owen asked.
“Ms. Adams,” she answered. “Victoria Adams.”
“Ms. Adams,” he repeated. “Next time, only answer when the question is directed at you.”
The class snickered. I glanced over at Victoria and watched as her face turned bright red, like a tomato, and slunk down in her chair.
At that moment, Professor Livingston walked into the room. His salt-and-peppered hair was sticking out in every direction like he’d be electrocuted. Everyone said he looked exactly like Albert Einstein.
“Now, now, Owen,” he said, his voice deep and semiserious, “give the poor kids a rest, and go start grading those assignments the students just turned in.”
Owen nodded. He moved to the door, where a stack of papers sat waiting in a small basket. He kept his eyes locked on mine the whole time—they seemed to be smiling at me. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
“Pay no mind to him,” Professor Livingston said. “He’s my TA for the semester. He took the class as a freshman last year, and I haven’t been able to get rid of him since.” He paused, clearing his throat. “Now . . . let’s continue the discussion that was going on privy to my arrival.”
The class seemed to drag on forever. Maybe it was because I had heard and discussed the story of Pyramus and Thisbe, but I knew that having Owen as the class TA wasn’t helping one bit.
I didn’t see him for the rest the lecture, but I could see his silhouette in the office off to the left of the room. I spent more time watching him than I did listening to my professor.
When class ended an hour later, I was the last one to leave, hoping that I might catch Owen on his way out. When he didn’t come out of the office, I lingered around the door. Fifteen minutes later, he almost barreled into me.
“Brennan,” he said incredulously.
“What the hell are you doing?” I snapped.
He tilted his head to the left. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“You ditched us after the football game, didn’t come home for the rest of the weekend, and now, you’re the TA for my class,” I elaborated. “What gives?”
“Look,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Brennan!” Callen’s voice called from behind me, cutting Owen off.
I turned to look at him, as he staggered toward me. When I looked back, Owen was walking away. I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists by my side. My nostrils flared with every quick breath I took.
“Hey, was that Owen?” Callen asked, as he stopped in front of me. I nodded. “Figures he’d find some way back into Professor Not-All-There’s class.”
I giggled at his nickname for the teacher; it was an accurate description of the aloof old man. I studied Callen’s face as he watched Owen disappear. I couldn’t really get a read on it, but it sort of seemed like he was sad. His eyes glistened, and he shook his head slightly. It was odd. When he realized I was staring at him, he attempted to smile.
“Why’s that?” I asked. Callen’s face went blank.
“It’s where he met . . .” he said, trailing off. His words lingered in the air between us.
“It’s where he met who?” I pressed.
“No one.” He shifted his eyes to stare at something behind me. “Forget I said anything.”
“Callen . . .” I said, my voice cautious as if warning him of something.
He exhaled a deep breath and looked back to me. “It’s not my place to say. If you want to know, ask him. Now, let’s go grab something to eat.”
His refusal to answer my question made my blood boil. I wanted to stomp my feet and demand that he finish telling me what he’d started to say. But the way his eyes narrowed at me and his lips tightened, told me that I wasn’t going to get what I wanted. So I did the only thing I could do—I nodded—and off we went.
***
Over the next few weeks, Owen continued avoiding me. He’d time his arrivals and departures from his room perfectly, or else he’d simply not stay there at all. Either way, I didn’t get a chance to talk to him.
The only time I got see him were the glimpses I caught of him during my class. A few times, Professor Livingston dragged Owen out of his little hideaway and had him participate in discussions. Those were the days I looked forward to.
And though we played cat and mouse with our eyes, I knew he was paying as much attention to me as I was him. I’d linger around after class every Monday, hoping to catch him and to question him, but I never got the chance. He was too good at dodging me.
I didn’t understand what his deal was. The more I pretended not to care, the more I actually did care. I still knew almost nothing about Owen—only the little bits that I could drag out of Callen. Through what little I squeezed from Callen, I learned Owen had a younger sister, and that Owen was really good at soccer (which explained his incredibly lean body). Other than that, I knew nada, zilch, zip, and absolutely zero about the guy across the hall.
It was the day before Thanksgiving, and most of the campus was empty. I’d planned to head home for the extended weekend, but chose instead to stay behind with Amelia, whose parents decided a trip to Barbados was more important than seeing their only daughter. I offered for her to come home with me, but she declined. Finals were also coming up right after Thanksgiving, so I figured staying in Eugene for the break would also give me a great excuse to cram for my tests.
I was lying on top of my bed, staring at my calculus assignment like it was written in a foreign language, but I couldn’t figure any of it out.
“It’s not too late for you to head home,” Amelia said. I looked over at her as she peeked over the top of her laptop. “You could leave right now and get there before it’s dark. You can take the beast.”
“The only way I can do that fast is if you drive,” I answered back. I sat up on the bed and crossed my legs. “So whatcha say? A nice home-cooked meal with the Daniels? All three of my brothers will be there . . .”
I hoped that would work. Amelia didn’t hide the fact that she found my brothers attractive. Whenever they called, she’d snatch my phone out of my hands and flirt aggressively with them. I was starting to think that Trevor might be developing a thing for my wild roommate. He started asking about her more and more—how she was doing, if she was still single—that sort of thing.
However, Amelia hadn’t been as flirty in the past couple weeks. Stranger than that, she’d started slipping out of the room late at night. She must’ve thought I was asleep, but I wasn’t. I’d seen her leave each time, and her late-night disappearances were becoming more and more frequent.
I knew she had to be seeing someone, but I didn’t know who. I asked her a few times, but she denied it every time. I couldn’t think of any other reason for her sneaking around. She’d even stopped going out as much as she used to, which was an even stranger thing. Whatever it was, it involved a guy.
“Brenn, we’ve been through this,” she said, closing her laptop. “I need to cram for finals next week. Going to your parents’ would be nothing but a distraction.”
“Well,” I sighed. “I figured it was worth a shot.”
“I appreciate it. I really do. And you really don’t have to stay here with me. I’ll be fine. It isn’t the first holiday I spent alone.”
There was a sadness to her voice that tore at my heart. I went over and sat on her bed. I wrapped my arms around her and ruffled her hair.
“I missed the last bus, anyways,” I said. “Besides, you’re not alone. You’ve got me!”
***
The next morning, I awoke to the sound of my stomach growling and Amelia clicking away on her phone. I cracked open my eyes and saw her propped up against the wall, grinning.
“Someone’s happy this morning,” I said. I yawned and pushed myself up into a sitting position. “Wouldn’t be a boy that’s making you smile, is it?”
“Maybe it is.” That was all she gave me.
My stomach rumbled again, demanding food. I climbed out of bed, slipped on some sweats, and pulled a cardigan on. “I’m going to grab something from the lounge,” I said. “Want anything?”
She shook her head, engrossed into whatever she was reading on the screen of her phone. Once in the hall, I stared at Owen’s door.
I’m not sure how long I stood there, but just as my feet started to move, I heard a door open behind me. I closed my eyes and inhaled before turning around. There he was.
“Owen?” I said, hoping he wouldn’t walk away.
Owen snapped his head up. His eyes wide, and his mouth was slightly agape. “I didn’t know you stuck around for the break.”
“Yeah, well, you would’ve known that if we ever saw each other,” I barked.
The moment my eyes fell on him, all the feelings I’d been pushing into the deepest corners of my mind came rushing back. I was overwhelmed with the need to get close to him, to take him in, to inhale his mesmerizing scent that I’d almost forgotten, and, most of all, I needed to feel the invisible pull between us.
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