“I don’t thi—”
“Humor me, okay? I’ll ask the first question—we’ll start off easy. What’s your favorite color?”
“Orange,” he answered without hesitation. I glanced at Amelia and laughed. “What? Why’s that funny?”
“Don’t let Sleeping Beauty over there know that,” I told him. “She hates orange and thinks it should be torn from the color wheel.” He chuckled softly, and shook his head. “Your turn.”
“Okay, well,” he said, “what’s your favorite color?”
“Uh-huh,” I said, “no repeating the same question right after the other asks it.” He scratched his head and I could see the wheels turning as he tried to think of a question to ask. I decided to give him a freebie. “It’s purple, by the way, my favorite color.”
The corner of his lips lifted into a grin. “Favorite food?” he asked.
“Oh that’s easy!” I exclaimed. “My mom’s lasagna. It’s the best thing you will ever put in your mouth. My turn . . . um, let’s see . . . what about your favorite ’80s movie?”
“Indiana Jones.” Again no hesitation. “All of them. Hands down.”
His response caught me by surprise. After the horror marathon, I honestly didn’t expect that. If anything, I might’ve expected something along the lines of The Shining or some other horror film, but not an adventure film.
“Dog or cat?”
“Definitely a dog,” I replied.
“Any brothers or sisters?” I pressed on with our version of twenty questions.
“One sister,” he responded.
“Older or younger?”
“That’s two questions in a row!” He laughed. “And to answer, Aspen’s younger than me. What about you?”
“Hey, no repeats!” I exclaimed. Amelia shifted on her bed, and I clamped my mouth shut. We both watched in silence as she tossed around before settling back down.
“You asked two questions in a row,” he whispered. “It’s only fair.”
I giggled. “Fine, I have three older brothers who are all pains in the ass.”
“Whew!” he exhaled. “You said three, huh? Do I have to worry about them coming after me?”
“I don’t know.” I leaned into him. “Are you going to give them a reason too?”
He swallowed then cleared his throat. I sat back up, giving him space. He lowered his eyes at me, warning me that I was treading on thin ice. I gave him a slight smile and nodded in acknowledgment. It was too soon to start pushing him.
“Whose turn is it?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Owen said, “but I’ll go. Favorite type of music?”
I noted he was trying to steer the game back to the easy questions, but I wasn’t going to let him off the hook. “I love all kinds of music, except for that bluegrass crap. Where are you from?” I answered, jumping into the next question.
“San Diego.”
That was where Callen was from, too. I couldn’t help but wonder if their friendship went further back. I made a mental note about this detail, planning to question Callen about it when he came back to campus. Although he didn’t seem to know too much about Owen, maybe he’d shed some light on exactly how long they’ve known each other.
“Favorite candy?” Owen said, taking his turn.
“Oh, come on,” I teased. “You can do better than that! What could you possibly use with the knowledge of my favorite candy?”
“You’d be surprised,” he answered, his voice was deep and sensual, and then he winked.
Chills danced along my arms, and I quietly shuddered at what he implied. I thought about my answer. I loved Reese’s Pieces, but I felt like toying with him a little. “Whipped cream’s my favorite.”
“That isn’t candy!” he said, unsatisfied with my answer.
“I know,” I replied. “But tell me, what can you do with whipped cream?”
“You don’t even want to know.” He voice was thick. He repositioned himself on the bed, and I could see I had thrown him off. He closed his eyes and let loose a husky growl. “First, I put some right here.” He brushed my hair out of the way, his hand grazing a spot behind my ear as he traced his fingers down my neck.
He drew circles along my collarbone, and I leaned into his touch. “Then here,” he said, stopping at the nape of my neck. “I’d move along here . . .” he continued, his finger dancing down the center of my body. His finger lingered around my belly button before stopping at the top of my sweats. “And I’d end just below here.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. Owen ran his fingers along the stretchy material of my pants, just barely underneath the seam. My body trembled, eager and begging him to keep moving.
He stared down at me, eyes full of passion, heat, and desire. He pressed a little further under my sweats, playing with the top of my lace underwear. I closed my eyes and moaned.
“And . . .” I said, my voice was shaking.
“Then I’d tease you a little,” he said, his voice low, “build the anticipation, and then have you begging for me.”
I gasped.
“Can you two just get it on already?” Amelia’s tired voice sliced through the air.
Owen immediately pulled his hand back and moved away from me. I laid back on my bed. I never wanted to punch someone more in my life. She’s supposed to be asleep! I thought. And even if she wasn’t, did she really have to open her big fat mouth? I pulled a pillow over my face and groaned. I felt my bed dip as Owen moved away. Tossing the pillow to the side, I saw him standing up.
“You don’t have to leave,” I whispered. Amelia had rolled over and tugged her blanket over her head.
“I think it’s for the best,” he said, not meeting my eyes.
“We could go back to your room.”
“Brennan,” he warned. “We broke every rule we set just now.”
“Not the first one!” I said, a little louder than I had intended. “We aren’t in the room alone.”
“Don’t remind me,” Amelia grumbled from under her blanket. Having enough of her little snide remarks, I snatched a pillow from behind me and chucked it at her. She pushed it onto the floor, and laughed.
“No,” Owen said firmly. My face fell. I watched as he packed up the screen and projector. He set them on the bed and stopped in front of me. “Brenn,” he said, placing a finger under my chin, and turned my face to his. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“How do I know you’re not going to just disappear like last time?” I whispered.
“Because last time almost killed me,” he said. “It took everything I had to stay away, but I don’t think I can anymore. Even if I wanted to, I’d be like a fish without water, and a fish needs water to survive. I need you to keep going. I don’t know why, but I do. So I’m not going anywhere, okay? I promise.”
“Yuck.” Amelia made a gagging noise. Owen glanced between us, and I rolled my eyes. She was really killing the moment—and she wasn’t going to hear the end of this.
“Tomorrow, I promise,” he reassured me.
“Tomorrow,” I repeated.
Owen cupped my cheek, and I leaned into it. I placed my hand over his and held it place. Slowly, he pulled his hand free, but our eyes never wavered. He collected his things, and I stared at his back as he disappeared through the door.
I grabbed a heel off the floor and threw it at the lump on the bed across from me.
“Ouch!” Amelia squealed. She pulled her covers off, sat up, and rubbed the back of her head. “What the hell was that for?”
“Do you really have to ask?” I snapped.
She cackled, and I armed myself with another heel. She waved her hands in the air in surrender. I let the shoe drop to the floor.
“I seriously can’t believe you did that,” I said, lying back down on the bed. “I don’t know what possessed you to cockblock me just then, but that goes down in the record books as the ultimate roommate cockblock.”
The both of us were quiet for a
few seconds before simultaneously busting out in a fit of laughter.
“In all seriousness,” Amelia said, trying to catch her breath. “What was that all about? It had to be the hottest thing I have ever heard.”
I sighed. “I have no idea.”
And I didn’t. I really didn’t think our afternoon would lead to what it did, but I wasn’t going to complain. The only thing I had to complain about was someone else rudely interrupting us.
“He wants you,” she continued. “Badly. I don’t see why you guys are fighting it so hard.”
I didn’t know either. The more I wanted to keep my promise to Reagan, the more I realized it was going to be impossible. I didn’t quite understand Owen’s reasons for not pursuing anything. In fact, I was surprised. But then again, he said I wasn’t like any of the other girls—whatever that was supposed to mean.
Then I started to do what I did best—started overthinking everything.
Owen and I had come to an agreement, yes. We were going to try and be friends. But did that mean he was going to keep hooking up with random girls? Not that I had any say in that, he could do whatever—and whoever—he wanted. But that didn’t mean I had to like it, because I didn’t. I had to do something, but what could I do?
I felt the panic attack coming on, and I had to remind myself to take slow and steady breaths. My heart was pounding hard against my chest, fighting to break free from my body. My breathing was quick and sharp. I clenched my mouth shut and balled my sheets in my hands.
Slow and easy . . . I reminded myself again. Slow and easy. I tried to think of kittens like I did last time, but it only reminded me of when Owen asked me the question about cats or dogs. My pulse kicked into high gear, and I could feel myself panicking. Think . . .
I started to rub my locket, trying to think of something that wouldn’t remind me of him, but nothing worked. I tried to think of my family, but that led me back to the joke about my brothers. I thought about rainbows, but that led me back to the colors question. I was rubbing the locket so hard, my fingers were beginning to feel raw.
I shot out of my bed and began to pace around the room.
“Brennan?” Amelia asked. I could sense the hesitation lacing her voice.
“Talk . . .” I said, gasping for air. “To . . .” Another gasp. “Me.” Another sharp inhale of air. “Say something . . . anything.”
“Um, er, well,” she said, stumbling over her words. “Oh! There’s a party tomorrow night!”
“NO!” I yelled. “Something else!”
Amelia struggled to find something to talk about. Out of all the times I needed her to actually talk to me, she was at a loss for words “What about . . . nail polish?”
“Nail polish is good,” I answered, continuing to pace around the room and rub the locket. “What about nail polish?”
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I got this awesome shade of blue the other day at the mall.”
My pace started to slow a little, but I kept my fingers around the heart-shaped trinket. “Uh-huh,” I said, “blue polish.” I kept repeating the words in my head.
“Yeah, uh,” she said, fumbling along her desk. “It’ll bring out the blue in your eyes. Well, if you want to walk around with your hands by your eyes all day, that is.”
I laughed, then came to a stop. I sat down on the edge of my bed, and Amelia came over to me. She gently took my free hand into hers, setting it lightly on her lap. She opened the nail polish, the fumes quickly assaulting my nose, and she started to paint my nails one by one. Once she was done, she motioned for the hand clutching my necklace. With a deep breath, I let go.
She painted the rest of my nails in silence. I stared, mesmerized, as the brush glided along the tips of my nails and my heart rate returned to its slow and steady beat. My body stopped shaking, and my breaths came easily again. Once Amelia was done, she closed the bottle and set it on her desk.
She tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, and brushed her fingers against my cheekbone. She looked into my eyes with concern. “You okay?”
I swallowed and nodded slowly. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“Anytime,” Amelia answered tenderly. “Can I ask what that was about?”
I took a slow, deep breath, and released it. “I was having a panic attack.”
“Well, I know that,” she teased. “But why?”
As I shrugged my shoulders, I caught the slight shake of her head, and watched as her lips turned down in a frown. She was trying to be there for me, and I was shutting her out. I rubbed my lips together, and focused on keeping my composure.
“I don’t know why,” I replied honestly. “I started overthinking things about Owen—about how we were just friends, how he was free to keep hooking up with girls who had no class, how I wouldn’t be able to deal with seeing that, and I just panicked.”
“Oh, honey,” she said gently. “I don’t think you have to worry about him hooking up with any girls. From what Callen says, he—”
“What do you mean?” I cut her off. “What has Callen said to you?”
My pulse was picking up again. I stared at the blue polish, trying to bring myself back down.
“Not much,” she said, patting my hand reassuringly, “just that Owen hasn’t hooked up with anyone in a while.” I raised an eyebrow, silently asking her to elaborate. “I don’t know the details—only that he has made it perfectly clear he’s not interested in that game anymore. Callen says it has to do with you . . .”
I didn’t know what to make of this revelation. How long had a while been? A week? Two weeks?
“Don’t look so surprised, Brenn,” Amelia said.
“B-but . . . I don’t get it,” I admitted. “Ahh, this guy frustrates me!”
Amelia pulled me into her arms and rubbed my back. I squeezed her tightly, overcome with gratitude and love for her tender care. If she hadn’t soothed me, I’d probably be tearing my hair out by now. I was starting to realize how thankful I was for her and just how amazing she really was.
“Just give it time,” she said, releasing me. “Everything will work out in its own time.”
She went back to her bed and climbed under the covers. Exhausted, I did the same thing. She flicked off her desk lamp, and I was surrounded by a sea of blackness. The glow of the moon filtered through the crack in the curtain, casting the room in a soft light.
“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for being there, and helping me.”
“Thank you for letting me,” Amelia replied. I could hear the smile in her voice.
“I promise to work on letting you in,” I whispered back. “It’s just hard for me.”
“I know, and I’ll be waiting whenever you ready. As long as it takes. You’re stuck with me, Brennan. Whether you like it or not. Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t.” My eyes drifted shut.
ELEVEN
TOMORROW. HOW CAN ONE WORD hold so much promise? Owen had said he’d see me tomorrow. It couldn’t come soon enough.
I couldn’t sleep for long. I looked at the clock next to my bed, and saw that it was just after four in the morning. I was restless. Something happened a few hours ago—something changed between Owen and me—but I wasn’t sure what that meant. I laid in bed, trying to figure it out.
Before I knew it, the sky was bursting with pinks and purples as the sun started to rise. I got up and stared out my window, in awe of the sunrise’s sheer beauty. Hopefully this start indicated a beautiful day in the Willamette Valley. The last few days hadn’t been so lucky.
There was a soft rap against the door, and I looked to the clock again. Three hours had passed, and I hadn’t moved from my perch next to the window. Who’d be knocking on our door this early in the morning?
I tiptoed across the room, crossing my fingers that I wouldn’t wake Amelia. She was right to warn me when I first arrived that she wasn’t a morning person.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Owen a
sked slowly as I answered the door.
I stepped out into the hall, brushing against him and shutting the door. “No, I was already up,” I said, unsure of why I was whispering. “Watching the sunrise and all that. Boring, I know, but there’s something about the stillness and quiet of the first sunlight that I love.”
I couldn’t stop my rambling.
“Yeah,” he said. “I watch the sun too.”
My heart fluttered. The pull between us was stronger than it ever was. I had to pretend I was redoing my messy bun, to keep from touching him.
“Leave it down,” Owen said, reaching out and caressing my hand. “It’s beautiful when you wear it down.”
I wasn’t one to wear my hair down often—usually it was in a braid, or piled on the top of my head. I could count on one hand how many times I let my blonde waves run free while here at UO—and he had noticed.
“I have the worst case of bedhead in existence,” I said, fibbing. “There is no way in hell I’m leaving it down.”
He touched my elbow, and his vibrant eyes locked onto mine. The flecks of yellow seemed to glow more brightly in the sunlight that reflected through the window. I bit my bottom lip and sucked in a sharp breath.
“Please,” he pleaded gently.
“Fine,” I said, letting my hair fall down my back. “Only because I just snapped the band.”
I held up the elastic band that was indeed broken.
A grin danced across his lips. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “So why are you knocking on my door so early in the morning?” I asked. “You’re lucky that I was awake and answered. If I hadn’t, you would’ve encountered the spawn of Satan—or maybe the devil herself—in the form of Amelia-before-coffee.”
Owen’s deep, hearty laugh vibrated throughout my body. “I was coming to see if you wanted to go grab some coffee, and maybe a donut. You do eat donuts, right?”
“Does a bird fly?” I teased. He tilted his head to the side, and stared at me with confusion. “You asked a ridiculous question, so I thought I’d return the favor. Of course I eat donuts! Do I look like the kind of person who wouldn’t?”
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