Owen made several attempts to rope his arm around me, and even though I wanted nothing more than to be in the warmth of his arms and have his scent envelop me, I brushed him off each time. He tried to start up a conversation with me, and I blatantly ignored him. I was afraid of what might happen if we talked.
Sometime during the previous night, I’d decided that I was done with this situation. Owen and I obviously couldn’t be friends, and we couldn’t give each other what we needed, no matter how much we wanted it. He made it clear he couldn’t be the person I needed, and after yesterday, I knew I couldn’t be what he needed either. It was over between us before it even got started.
Halfway to my class, Owen ceased trying to get his arms around me, but still followed closely behind me. I wasn’t sure why he’d felt the need to walk me to class. If memory served me correctly, he had a class that started at the same time as mine, back near the dorms. He was going to be late.
He didn’t say anything to me as I entered the building. We stared at each other for several long seconds before he walked away. I sighed, wanting to go after him, but I made my way to class instead.
When my class let out, I found Owen waiting for me outside. We started the same thing again, only this time, he made no moves to pull me into his arms. He didn’t even talk to me, and I secretly wished he would. We stayed silent as we walked to the dorms.
I walked to the student lounge and sat down at one of the empty tables. As I was getting my laptop out, and without saying a word, Owen sat down and did the same thing. We worked without talking, occasionally exchanging quick glances over our screens. I pulled out a notebook and did some calculus equations.
My computer chimed, and I looked up to the screen. My browser was opened to Facebook, and I saw that I had a new friend request. Clicking on the notification, I saw Owen’s name appear. I peeked over at him, seeing the grin on his face. I shook my head but hit the accept button, and focused on my assignment again. A few seconds later, my computer chimed again. I had a private message—
Owen: Hi.
Me: I’m trying to do homework.
Owen: Need help?
Me: What I need is for you to take a clue.
Owen: I’m pretty good at calculus.
Me: Do I need to spell it out for you? LEAVE. ME. ALONE.
It was harsh. I don’t know why I was being such a bitch, but he wasn’t getting the point. I just wanted him to leave me alone. I wanted to go about my day, get my homework done, and not have his presence during every second of it. It was hard to forget about someone and move on—another thing I had decided last night—if that person was persistent about being right there all the time.
I heard a soft chuckle come from across the table. I glanced up and saw Owen shaking his head. I heard my computer chime again, but I ignored it and focused back on the problem I’d been trying to solve for the last ten minutes. I could feel his eyes on me, making me shift around uncomfortably. I pressed the tip of my pencil against the paper, and it snapped off. He laughed again. I tossed it into my bag and grabbed another one.
My computer chimed again, and Owen cleared his throat. I ignored him again, still trying to focus on the same math problem. A few minutes later, he cleared his throat again. Finally, I let out an irritated growl, and glanced at the screen.
Owen: I’m just trying to help.
We need to talk.
Please . . .
Me: I don’t need your help and there’s nothing to talk about.
Owen: There’s a lot to talk about.
Me: No, there isn’t, Owen. I’m done with this whole thing. I can’t do it anymore.
Owen: Done with everything?
Me: Yes, everything.
I heard him sigh. I pretended not to be watching as he packed up his things and stood up. His eyes fell on mine as I looked up to him. He opened his mouth to say something, and I shook my head.
I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. I couldn’t hear what he had to say. I’d made up my mind last night. I was going to focus on finals, eat lots of gummy bears, and do nothing else. As far as Owen and I were concerned, well—I was done.
His head hung down as he walked away, and my heart slightly broke as I watched him go. I’d pushed him away, just as I intended too, but now that I had, I was regretting my decision. It was for the best, though. I was starting to forget why I even came here. I was off to a pretty crappy start at making lasting memories. The only ones I had so far were ones that I wasn’t going to want to remember.
After Owen disappeared into the elevator, I turned back to my homework. I finally managed to get through the first problem, and then I solved the second with ease. Then came the third one, and I suddenly wished I’d taken Owen up on his offer. Or that Amelia was around to help me. Amelia, I thought. Oh no. I’d all but pushed her away too. I’d pushed her to the point that she didn’t even stay in our room last night.
I had no idea where she stayed. All I knew was that it wasn’t in our dorm room. I leaned back in my chair and rubbed the locket around my neck. I’d made such a mess of things. I needed to fix them. But I had no idea where to start.
***
The week of finals was a total breeze. My brother was right: gummy bears and coffee seemed to do the trick. I was even feeling confident that I aced my calculus exam.
Amelia hadn’t returned to the room all week, and I had no idea where she was. I texted her a few times but never got a response. I asked Callen if he knew where she was, but all he said was that she was fine. When I realized how much it hurt that this was happening, I realized I needed to really try to make this work with her. I loved Amelia, and it killed me to know I’d hurt her.
Owen disappeared again, too, although I’d expected that. But deep down, I was hoping he’d keep trying to see me. It was selfish of me, but I couldn’t help myself. I knocked on his door several times, wanting to apologize, but I never got an answer.
I really had made a mess of things.
Christmas break had just started, but I wasn’t leaving school for another eight days.
I was lying on my bed when the door opened to the room and Amelia walked in. I sat up. She moved to her bed, carrying a large bag over her shoulder, and then I noticed her side of the closet was unusually empty. I was surprised I hadn’t noticed that before.
“Hey,” I said softly.
Amelia set the bag on her bed and looked over her shoulder. “Hey.”
She turned back to the bag and took some clothes out of it. I took a deep breath, trying to think of something to say. I wanted—no—I needed to apologize. I just didn’t know where to begin. I couldn’t just give her the ordinary “I’m sorry.” No, this had to be the greatest apology in history.
“Amelia—” I started to say.
She slammed her hands onto her bed and turned to me. There was no mistaking the angry gleam in her eyes. “Look, Brennan. I’m only here long enough to unpack my things, grab some more stuff, and then I’m leaving again. I’ll see you when we get back from Christmas break.”
“I thought you weren’t leaving until the end of the week?” I asked hesitantly.
“I’m not,” she answered sharply. “I’m staying somewhere else until then.”
My heart sank to the pit of my stomach. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so I closed it. I could feel my hands starting to shake.
“It might be good for you to figure things out while we’re gone,” she added. “You need to do some serious thinking about what you’re doing. Shutting people out isn’t healthy. Take it from someone who mastered that job a long time ago—which, by the way, I kept doing until I decided that it was too lonely. You’re an amazing girl, Brenn, but you have a problem.”
I didn’t mean to start laughing, but I did. Amelia rolled her eyes, growled, and turned back to her bag. If she only knew how big of a problem I really had. And she would, I thought, if I could open up and tell her.
“Amelia,” I called out to
her. She stopped pulling things out, but refused to face me. “I know, okay. I know I have this wall up, and I’m trying to break it down, but it’s hard.” I took a deep breath, preparing for the words that I was about to say. “My . . . my best friend . . . died . . . almost a year ago. Ever since then, I just haven’t been able to let people in . . . because . . . I’m afraid . . . of replacing her.”
I saw Amelia’s shoulders relax, then move up and down as she took slow, steady breaths. When she turned around, tears brimmed her eyes. Without warning, she crossed the distance between us, and tackled me to the bed.
I started to laugh. “Amelia . . .” I coughed, “you’re kinda choking me here.”
Amelia loosened her grip around my neck, and pushed herself off of me, laughing softly. “Sorry,” she said, sitting up on my bed.
“It’s okay.” I laughed. “I think I’ll live.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“You’re welcome,” I whispered back.
“Can I ask what happened . . . to your friend?” she asked gently. I tensed up beside her. My hands fidgeted in my lap, and my chest rose rapidly. I wasn’t ready to tell her that yet. “It’s okay. Baby steps.”
“I’m trying,” I reassured her.
“That’s all I ever wanted.” She reached over and took my hands into hers. “And I’m sorry about your best friend. And know, just because you’re making new friends, it doesn’t mean you’re replacing her. She lives in your heart and your memories. And that’s something no one can ever take away.”
I nodded. I wrapped my arms around her. It was the first time I’d verbally told anyone else that Reagan was gone. I’d never openly acknowledged it. Not with my parents, not with my brothers, and not even with my therapist. It hurt—it felt like I lost her all over again—but at the same time, it felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
“I know this doesn’t make things right with us,” I said, releasing my hold on her. “But do you really have to leave?”
Amelia leaned back on her hands, humming. “On one condition.” I was certain I wasn’t going to like the condition. “We go to the party tonight—the one celebrating the end of finals.”
Yeah, I didn’t like it all.
“Okay,” I agreed.
She squealed. “Oh, and you have to let me dress you!”
“That’s two conditions,” I said.
“I know,” she replied, her tone bright and cheery, “but I saw this dress the other day and knew it would be perfect on you.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “The other day?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“But weren’t you mad at me the other day?”
“I was hurt, not mad at you,” she answered. “I was hurt. It would take a lot for me to be mad at you.”
I thought about it for a moment. Then a thought came to mind. “So this whole disappearing act . . .”
“It made you do some thinking, didn’t it?” she said, her back to me as she shuffled through the clothes in the closet.
I laughed. “I don’t know if I should be mad at you, or if I should thank you.”
She pulled something out of the closet. “You can thank me after you try this on.”
She held the dress up for me. It was simple, nothing too crazy like I’d expected. It was blue floral print with spaghetti straps and a flowing skirt bottom. Simple, but absolutely adorable. Perfect.
I jumped off the bed, ran to Amelia, grabbed the dress with both hands and, without hesitating for a single second, stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the dress. I stared at my reflection in the mirror and did a little twirl. The skirt spun around me, and I giggled.
“This is perfect!” I squealed.
“I knew you’d like it,” Amelia said, laughing out loud. “That’s what you’re wearing tonight.”
“But it’s freezing outside,” I said quickly.
“The best thing about this dress,” she started, “is that it’ll look good with that white cardigan of yours. And besides, the party is indoors.”
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” I cheered, bouncing up and down. I pulled her into a hug.
I was grateful that Amelia forgave me for my outlandish behavior. Not only that, it felt amazing to open up to her. And though I wasn’t ready to tell her everything, I knew one day I would. It’s like she said—baby steps.
Amelia set to work on getting us ready for the party. She applied a subtle amount of makeup to my face—much to my surprise—and insisted I leave my hair down. Adding a touch of mousse to my hair, I had those beach-ready curls cascading down my back. Amelia pulled my bangs into a small braid, and pinned it to the side of my head. I matched my dress with a pair of white flats, much to Amelia’s dislike, but she went with it.
After she was done with me, she set to work on herself. Sticking to her typical self, she pulled on a short, strapless black dress, which had a huge circle cut out in the back, then she slipped on a pair of black heels and pulled her hair back into a loose yet elegant bun. We stood in front of the mirror, and stared at our reflections.
“Damn, we look hot,” she said, turning from side to side to see every angle. “Now . . . let’s go bring the house down.”
FOURTEEN
MY BODY VIBRATED as the bass pulsated through the speakers, sweat beading on my forehead. I was in the midst of a throng of people on the makeshift dance floor. Amelia tossed her head back, laughing loudly with excitement. I moved to the beat of the music, my veins bursting with adrenaline.
This is what I had been missing, I thought. This was what I was hoping to achieve here: having fun, dancing my ass off, and living out nights I wouldn’t forget.
We’d been there for nearly two hours, every second spent on the dance floor, packed with bodies gyrating against one another. I felt someone press up behind me. I looked behind me, meeting a set of hazel eyes. The dark-haired guy was attractive enough. I smiled, and continued moving my hips around. As the DJ smoothly transitioned into a new song, my mouth felt dry, and I was thirsty.
“I’m going to find something to drink!” I shouted to Amelia.
She nodded her head and continued grinding against the guy behind her. Any preconceived notions I had about a possible boyfriend—Callen—all but disappeared from my mind once we arrived. From the moment we stepped through the front door, Amelia danced with almost every guy who approached her—something I was sure she wouldn’t do if she was in a relationship, whether it was a secret or not.
I pushed my way through the crowd, jostling against dancers, and walked into the kitchen. Liquor bottles and beer cans littered the table and countertops. I scanned the room, looking for anything that was nonalcoholic . . . and then I felt it again—the pull.
I heard his voice before my eyes found him. “You’re going to have to get water from the sink if you don’t want alcohol,” he said, coming out from a dark corner. “I think I saw some soda in the fridge too.”
I walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. Much to my delight, several bottles of Mountain Dew sat on the bottom shelf. I grabbed an unopened bottle and closed the door. “Thanks,” I said, holding the bottle up toward him.
I glanced around the kitchen for a clean cup and, when I didn’t spot any, started opening cupboards. I heard a cupboard door open and close from behind me.
“Here you go,” Owen said, handing me a dark blue mug.
“Thanks again.”
A smile crept across his face. “I don’t mind helping a damsel in distress from time to time.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. This wasn’t the first time he’d used that line with me. I twisted the cap on the bottle, listening to the hissing sound as the carbonated liquid equalized its pressure. I poured some Mountain Dew into the mug and quickly chugged it down, fully aware of Owen’s eyes on me. I poured myself one more cupful before returning it back to
the fridge.
“You look like you’re having fun,” Owen said.
I took another sip of soda, the sugary goodness sliding down the back of my throat. “Mmm-hmm,” I hummed.
“That’s good,” he whispered. “Listen, Brennan—”
“Nuh-huh,” I said, cutting him off. “I’m going to stop you right there.”
“All I was going to say was to have fun, but be careful tonight.”
I set the mug down on the counter and turned to him. I couldn’t help but admire the way his jeans rested on his hips, or how the yellow in his eyes gleamed under the light. His dark green shirt emphasized the contours of his muscles, and I wanted to reach out to touch them. But before I could respond, he walked away, and I lost him in the crowd of people on the dance floor. I finished my drink before heading back out to dance.
Amelia was in the same place where I left her. I couldn’t see Owen, but I could feel him watching me. I bounced around on my toes, unable to get back into the groove. Amelia made several attempts to get me dancing again, but I just stood there.
Then I felt him, pressing up behind me. There was no mistaking the jolt of energy that rushed through my body as his hands touched my waist. My body instinctually tensed up.
Owen squeezed my hips and leaned down near my ear. “Relax,” he whispered.
I sucked in a deep breath and released it. Owen started to sway behind me slowly, encouraging me to move with him. As I moved in time with him, he began to pick up the pace, until we matched the music’s beat. I reached up with one arm, holding him behind the neck, and pressed as close as I could to him.
Owen held me around my stomach, his lips hovering over the nape of my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut and lost myself to the sounds filling the air. His lips touched my skin, gently, and I moaned. Pressing even closer, he placed kisses along my neck, behind my ear, and down the top of my back.
We stayed like this song after song, and I didn’t notice when Amelia left the dance floor. I looked around the dance floor, but I couldn’t find her face among the crowd.
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