But just as quickly as the otherworldly attraction swept over me, furious anger took its place, and I was livid.
“Uh.” He was at a loss for words. “I don’t know what to sa—”
“You don’t have to say anything!” I roared. “You said it loud and clear by avoiding me.” I paused, my breath coming out in ragged gasps. “But can I ask you one thing?” He nodded slightly. “Why? Why did you just disappear after the football game?”
He buried his face in his hands and sighed. I suddenly lost my balance as if some unseen force shoved me and stumbled forward over my feet. I stopped a few steps in front of him.
“I deserve to know what I did that was so wrong that made you just ignore me like that,” I whispered.
He rubbed his face and pulled his hands away, looking at me. “Nothing,” he answered softly. “You did nothing wrong.”
“Then why?” I pressed.
“I got scared.”
All the anger washed out of me, but it was quickly replaced with confusion. What did he have to be afraid of? I thought.
“That day, at the football game . . .” He started, almost mumbling.
“We’re friends, remember?” I said. “You said it yourself.”
“I thought I could handle being friends,” he said, finding his voice again. “But during the game, I realized I was an idiot. I realized we could never be friends. And it excited me. But it scared me too. I’m not the guy you need. No. I can’t be who you need me to be.”
“How do you know what I want or need?” My voice was shaking.
“It isn’t just that, Brennan,” he said. “I can’t . . .” He looked away.
I started to laugh uncontrollably. “This is ridiculous,” I said. “We’re ridiculous.”
Owen snapped his gaze back to me.
Then I realized something I’d known all along—something I repeatedly told myself but chose to ignore until this very moment. “We. Don’t. Even. Know. Each. Other,” I said between each giggle.
It took Owen a second but then he joined in on the laughter. We both leaned up against the wall, still laughing, and slid down it until we were sitting side by side on the floor. Once the laughter died down, an awkward silence hovered over us.
“Look,” he finally said, “call me crazy, but there’s something about you that I am so incredibly drawn to. I can’t help myself . . .”
“You’re not crazy,” I said. “I feel it too.”
“The thing is,” he continued, “I’m not in a place where I can figure out what it is. If I jumped into it now with you, it’d only end in disaster.” My chest tightened with his words. “And you’re right—we don’t know each other. And that makes this even stranger. I’m not even sure what to make of it, or what to do.”
I let his words turn in my head. We were quiet again. Time slipped by, and I had no idea how long we had been sitting there. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, all I knew was that I didn’t want to get off this floor until we figured it out.
“So,” I finally said, deciding to wing it and say whatever came to mind. “I know we said we’d try this friends thing before, and it obviously didn’t work, but I don’t think we were on the same page then.”
I peeked out the corner of my eye, and saw him watching me.
“Why don’t we seriously try to make a go of this whole friendship thing?” I asked. “Get to know one another like friends do. You know—hang out, talk, get food, go to football games, or whatever, instead of avoiding one another.”
“I don’t know if I can,” he said reluctantly.
“We have to do something, Owen,” I said. “This thing, whatever it is, isn’t going away. We have to work through it. The whole avoiding-each-other isn’t helping us either, in fact, it’s probably made everything worse. We need to push through it. We need to make an actual attempt at being friends. I think it’s the only way were not going to end up hating each other, or ripping each other’s clothes off.”
“Could you ever hate me?” he asked, playfully.
“Oh, trust me,” I teased. “I was getting there.”
“Then we need some ground rules.” His voice was serious, indicating the joke was over. “The first one is the most important . . .” He paused, and I waited for him to continue. “Never, ever, under any circumstance can we be in a room alone together. I can’t trust myself around you, and if given a chance, clothes will definitely be ripped off.”
I nodded in agreement. “Looks like we’re already breaking rule number one.”
He laughed. “Starting after this,” he said. He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Is that better?”
“Much. What’s the second one?”
“No hanging out together unless others are with us,” he answered quickly. I wondered if he already had these rules thought up prior to our little meeting.
“Doesn’t that go with rule number one?” I asked.
“Consider it rule number one, part two.”
I waited for him to add something else to the list but he was quiet. I glanced at him and saw he was squeezing his hands into fists on his lap. I placed my hand on top of his, and his eyes leaped to mine. I heard the sharp inhale of his breath, and my heart started pounding in my ears like a crazed matching band.
He slowly pulled his hands from mine. “And,” he said delicately, “absolutely no touching.”
I nodded and focused on the wall in front of me again. This is good, I thought, isn’t it? We could make this work—a few ground rules, no matter how silly, would definitely help the situation.
“It’s better this way, right?” He didn’t saying anything and just hummed. “I mean, we can do this, can’t we?”
“I hope so.” Something about his voice was hopeful.
I released a sigh of relief and started to rub my locket. “At least I won’t be breaking my promise anytime soon,” I mumbled.
“What promise?” Owen asked. His question caught me by surprise. I didn’t realize I’d said my thoughts out loud.
“You can’t laugh,” I replied. I turned so I was facing him. “Promise?”
He held his hands in the air, shaking his head. “I can’t make any promises.” I groaned, and leaned back, squeezing my eyes shut. “However,” he added, “I can try my best not to.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I’m not really considering telling him about the pact I made with Reagan, am I? I thought. But apparently, I was, because I found myself looking at Owen again, ready to tell him all about it.
“My best friend and I made a promise last summer. It was silly, really. But we decided that our freshman year of college, we wouldn’t date. ‘No guys’—that was our motto. It was just going to be all about having fun, making memories, and surviving our first year of hell.”
“When you say no guys . . .” he said. “You mean completely? Were you planning to go to an all-girls school or something?”
I chuckled. “No, no, we can be friends with guys. But no dating, no, well, you know . . .” I blushed. “No getting down. None of that business. It’s stupid, I know.”
“No, it isn’t,” he said quickly. “It’s a great idea. I mean, most girls, they start searching for their husband as soon as they step foot on campus. They get so caught up in all of that, that they don’t stop to enjoy everything else.”
“Is that why you have that rule,” I asked. “The one where you don’t allow girls into your room?”
“Part of it,” he admitted.
“And the twin sluts?” I asked. I couldn’t help myself.
“An oversight on my part.” He rubbed his chin, and squeezed his eyes shut. “Another rule . . .” He spoke again. “No talking or asking about our pasts. Except for the basic stuff, like where we’re from, siblings, that sort of thing. But all that personal stuff, the deep things, that’s off limits.”
That was one rule I was completely on board with. While I might’ve agreed to the first three, I didn’t l
ike them—and it was going to be hard not to break them.
“Anything else?”
He shook his head. I pushed myself up off the floor, and stood in front of him. I held out my hand. He studied it for a minute before placing his hand in mine. He stood up, his body coming into close proximity of mine. He cleared his throat, and I took a few steps back.
“Now that that’s out of the way,” I said, “what are your plans for today? Are you going to see some family?”
“No, they don’t live around here.” he said. “I was just going to grab something to eat from the lounge and bring it back to my room.”
“That’s what I was going to do,” I said. “Why don’t we grab something together, and then you can hang out with Amelia and me in our room?” I paused—Owen looked uncertain. “I’m sure we can behave ourselves long enough to go grab something to eat,” I continued. “And like I said, Amelia will be there, so no rules are being broken.”
He bit his lower lip, which made my pulse start to race. I looked away and waited for him to decide what he wanted to do.
“I’m in,” he finally said.
“Good!” I squealed. His eyes met mine, and I could feel the heat rushing to my face. “All right, Bieber-boy, let’s go.”
“Again with that crap?” He laughed.
“Well, if you’re not going to cut your hair, you better get used to it!” I teased.
Owen shook his head, motioning for me to lead the way. I started down the hall first, fully aware of him close behind me. I could do this—no, we could do this—we could make this work. Being friends is going to turn out just fine, I thought. Won’t it?
I sure hoped so . . .
TEN
“I SEND YOU OUT for food, and you bring home a stray,” Amelia joked as I entered the room with Owen hot on my tail.
“I’ll have you know,” Owen said, “it was I who found her.”
“Oh don’t even go there, Owen!” I exclaimed. “If it wasn’t for me inviting you to the room, you’d be all by yourself.”
Things were off to a good start. Owen and I were joking around like how I did with Callen. It felt good. As long as I ignored the need to strip off his clothes, then everything was going to be just fine.
Owen closed the door behind him. I handed Amelia a plate of food. The student lounge provided students who didn’t go home with a Thanksgiving feast. It looked delicious, and I couldn’t wait to dig in.
I sat down on my bed. Owen looked to me, and I nodded for him to take a spot on the bed. He sat as close to the opposite end of the bed as he could. Amelia wasted no time chowing down on her food, and ranting about how it didn’t compare to what Maria—whoever she was—made back home.
“So, Bieb-meister, are you one of those guys who doesn’t have a family to go home to, or did they bail on you too?” Amelia asked between monstrous bites.
“Amelia,” I snapped. She looked at me and shrugged her shoulders.
I glanced at Owen and tried to apologize with my eyes. “Actually, I have an amazing family,” he said, “and they didn’t bail out on me—it’s more like I bailed out on them this year.”
“Why?” Amelia pressed. I shot daggers at her, which she responded to by sticking out her tongue.
“I have my reasons,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“And they are . . . ?” Amelia wasn’t given up.
I grabbed the brush off the desk between our beds and chucked it at her but she dodged it. I would’ve missed by a mile even if she hadn’t.
“Enough, Amelia,” I said sharply. “Like Owen said, he has his reasons, and he doesn’t have to explain himself.”
We ate our food in silence. Amelia’s eyes kept bouncing back and forth between Owen and me. I could see she wanted to ask about him. I was suddenly not looking forward to when he left.
Amelia finished eating first, and she threw her plate in the trash, then stood in the middle of the room, begging for attention. “Okay,” she said. I looked up at her. “I’m bored. Let’s do something.”
“It’s Thanksgiving. Most places aren’t going to be open,” I told her.
She crossed her arms and sighed again.
“Hold on,” Owen said, climbing off the bed. He threw his plate in the trash. “I have something we can do.”
He didn’t elaborate before leaving the room. Amelia sat back on her bed and started to grill me. “What the hell is he doing here? I thought you two hated each other?”
“I never said I hated him.” I scooted back until my back was pressed up against the wall.
“I don’t know what to make of you two,” she continued. “One minute, we were all having a blast at a football game. The next no one sees him for a month and a half. Now, he’s hanging out in our room. What gives?”
Before I could say anything, she jumped off the bed and squealed. “Oh my God, I bet the two of you had sex at one point! Didn’t you? That’s why he’s been avoiding you. What an asshole!”
“No!” I said, my voice louder than I expected. “Nothing happened . . . well, nothing like that. Look, I know it’s weird to understand. Hell, I don’t even know what’s going on in his head. But everything is okay now . . .”
The door opened again, and Owen walked in carrying a strange contraption in his arms. I breathed a sigh of relief. Amelia’s inquisition was on hold for now. I couldn’t believe she actually thought Owen and I slept together. I didn’t even know when we could’ve done that—we’d only known each for a week before he disappeared, and during that time, we were never alone.
Owen set the contraption gently on my bed. He grabbed a long cylindrical tube tucked under his arm and headed to the middle of the room. Popping off the cap, he pulled out what was inside—a long pole with a white screen attached to it. He set it on the floor and fixed its legs—it was just as tall as he was. After crawling around under our desk and plugging a cord into the outlet, he stood up.
“Action or horror?” he asked.
It took me a second to realize what I was staring at—a projector and a screen.
Amelia was practically prancing with excitement. We hadn’t gotten around to getting a TV for the room and only had our laptops for movies—and with the two of us, huddling around a seventeen-inch screen was a bit difficult.
I flashed my eyes to her, and we smiled at the same time. “Horror,” we answered in unison.
Owen laughed. “Michael, Jason, or Freddy?”
Amelia shrugged her shoulders, and Owen looked to me. I felt the both of them staring at me, waiting for me to choose one. “Like that’s even a fair choice,” I said.
“A Nightmare on Elm Street it is then,” Owen decided.
After he started the movie, I nodded to the empty spot next to me, and he climbed over. This time, he didn’t sit so close to the end that he’d fall off. No, he was closer, much closer.
Our shoulders were centimeters apart. I had my hands down to my side, and as he situated himself, his hands brushed mine. I was hit with his warmth and scent all at once. My body hummed, fully aware of his closeness.
His hand came to a rest next to mine, barely grazing it, but still touching it nonetheless. I pulled my lower lip with my teeth. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to calm my pulsing heart rate.
We sat like that, movie after movie, neither of us moving, except for when Owen had to put the next one in, but he’d return to the same exact spot each time. I was pretty certain I held my breath the entire time, afraid of what I would do if I caught a whiff of what made Owen, well, Owen.
“Brennan.” His voice was soft. I thought I was dreaming when I heard it.
I opened my eyes and saw Amelia sound asleep across the room. My head moved slowly up and down, and I could see the fabric of Owen’s jeans. I blinked a few times, and then realized that I was no longer in an upright position.
My chest tightened. I willed my body to move, but it felt like dead weight. I swallowed the lump in my throat, taking a shallow breath.
It was then I felt the heat from Owen’s hand on my side, his thumb caressing my skin just below the hem of my shirt.
“Brennan,” he said again.
“Hmm?” I hummed, pretending to be half-asleep.
He didn’t say anything else and kept circling his thumb against me. My skin was scorching, almost on fire, where our bodies touched. I gently moved my head, snuggling in closer to him, and squeezed my arm where it was draped over his legs. I swore I heard a soft moan come from him.
“It’s after midnight,” he whispered. “I should go.”
My heart dropped. The prospect of him leaving, of losing this innocent yet intimate moment, made me sick. I didn’t want him to leave. “Do you have to?” I asked softly.
“I’m afraid of what’ll happen if I don’t.” Owen’s voice was rugged.
I sighed. “I’m not.”
I knew I was testing the limits, bending the rules we had set earlier, but as hard as I tried, there was no denying that I wanted him—more than just a friend.
I felt his body move slightly, as if he were situating himself against the wall. “We’re already breaking the rules as it is. We can’t push it any more than we already are.”
I stayed there for a several minutes. Neither of us speaking, and savoring every second we were allowed. Eventually, I pushed myself into a sitting position. I stared at the wall across the room.
“Why?” I asked, quietly.
Out the corner of my eye, I saw him bury his face in his hands. He groaned and then rubbed his eyes. I knew he was looking at me before I turned my head to meet his gaze. “We don’t even know each other.”
“Isn’t that how it is with all the other girls you hook up with?” I spoke before thinking of my choice of words. He looked away.
“You are not like the other girls . . .” he said, drawing his words out like a dream.
I completely turned my body and crossed my legs. Fully facing him, I softly pulled his face back to mine. “Let’s solve this now,” I said. Owen raised an eyebrow. “It seems as if our biggest problem is that we don’t know each other. So . . . let’s get to know each other.”
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