Broken Beautiful Hearts

by Kami Garcia

  Owen pulls down my bathing suit strap, leaving a trail of kisses in its place. He seems surprised when I slip my arms out of the straps. He looks down at the wet fabric clinging to my chest and watches the material inch lower when I inhale. He shifts between my legs, and every muscle in my body tenses.

  He groans again. “You feel so good, Peyton. I want—” He hesitates. “We should stop.”

  I look up at him. “What were you going to say before that?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

  “You said you wanted something.” I slide my hand between us and rest my palm against his stomach below his belly button, my fingers teasing. My hand drifts lower, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

  “Tell me what you want, Owen.”

  “I want to know what you feel like.” He brushes his thumb between my legs. “Here.”

  My breath catches and I bite my lip. “Owen…”

  He brings his mouth to my ear. “I want to know what it feels like to be inside you.”

  The words hum through my body and I ache for him. “That’s what I want, too.”

  Owen pulls back to look at me. “Are you sure? Because—”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Shit.” He buries his face in my neck. “We can’t. I don’t have anything.”

  He means protection. “Not even in your wallet?”

  “My wallet is at home. I forgot it this morning.”

  “Wait.” I start to sit up, and my head hits Owen’s chin. “Sorry.”

  “I’m okay.” He rubs his chin.

  “I think I have something in my purse. In the locker.” I point down the hall.

  Owen springs off the sofa. “What number?”

  “Two ten.”

  He bolts around the corner and I hear a crash.

  “I’m okay,” he calls out.

  I barely have time to catch my breath before he returns with my purse and my knee brace. I motion for him to hand me my bag. I lean over the front of the sofa and dump everything out on the floor. Owen sits next to the mess and watches me scatter the contents of my purse until I find the black pouch.

  I hope it’s still in here.

  “I found it!” I hold up the black foil packet.

  Owen grins at me.

  “What’s so funny?”

  His eyes dart to my chest. “Nothing. I just like the view.”

  I look down. I forgot to pull up the straps of my bathing suit before I leaned over, and I’m giving him an eyeful. “I hope you like the rest of the view just as much.”

  Owen is still sitting on the floor, and he wraps his arms around my waist. “Is that a joke? I think the view is gorgeous. You are gorgeous. Every inch of you.”

  Not every inch.

  Without thinking, I put my hand on my knee to cover the scars.

  Owen slides his fingers between mine and moves my hand away. Then he plants a soft kiss on each of the four scars around my kneecap. “Every inch of you.”

  He eases me back down on the sofa and puts a pillow under my knee.

  “It’s fine. Come here.” I tug on the waistband of his shorts.

  “Hold on.” Owen reaches down and picks up something.

  “I am not wearing my knee brace the first time we’re together.” This is so embarrassing.

  “For me? Please?” He kisses my neck. “I won’t be looking at your knee. Trust me.”

  “You seriously want me to wear it?” He nods and I roll my eyes. “Fine.”

  Owen slips it on carefully and fastens the straps. He props up my leg and wraps my other leg around his waist. “I’ll make you forget you have it on.”

  His eyes travel down my body, and I’m aching for him all over again.

  He leans forward, still holding my leg around his waist, and kisses me slowly. He traces the top of my bathing suit, grazing my breasts with his palm. “Can I help you take this off?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Suddenly, I realize how much of me Owen is about to see. It’s dark in here, but not that dark.

  He starts by peeling down the top of my bathing suit. When it reaches my waist, he pauses to look at me. I close my eyes as he works the suit down farther. Down my hips and thighs. Over my legs. The damp bathing suit hits the floor, and I feel his smooth skin as he slips off his shorts. He leans down and kisses my stomach, working his way up to more sensitive areas.

  “Peyton. Look at me.”

  I open my eyes and Owen’s face is directly above mine.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Positive.” I hold up the foil packet. “Wait. Do condoms expire?”

  This one has been in my bag since I was fifteen. Mom gave it to me after she read an article full of statistics about teens and sex.

  “Everything expires,” he says. “But they’re good for a long time.”

  “Define a long time.”

  “A few years maybe? They don’t have a ten-year shelf life like Twinkies, if that’s what you’re asking.” He takes the packet from me and points to a spot near the bottom. “You have to check the expiration date.”

  Probably something I should’ve known about my “just-in-case” condom.

  I squint and read the numbers. “It’s good for another six months. And the Twinkie thing is an urban legend.”

  Owen rips the packet and I stop talking, my body humming with anticipation. His mouth hovers over mine, and I tug on his bottom lip. He makes a sexy rumbling sound in his throat and lowers himself between my legs. When he’s close enough for me to feel how much he wants me he stops. I wait to feel the pressure of his body against mine.

  When he doesn’t move, I tug on his waist, urging him the rest of the way down. Tension pulses in my belly—and everywhere else.

  I want him so bad.

  He traces a line from the curve of my breast to my hip bone.

  “Owen, please…” I squirm underneath him and he almost gives in.

  “You don’t know many times I imagined this. How it would feel to be this close to you.” His voice is deeper now and thick with desire. “How it would feel to touch you.”

  He slides his hand between my legs, and my whole body shudders. “I thought about it, too. All the time. I wanted you to touch me.”

  “Is that what you want now?” His fingers continue to tease me and I can’t think.

  I shake my head. “No … I want more.”

  Owen can’t hold back any longer.

  Our bodies collide, and I feel every part of him.

  It feels too good, like he memorized a map of my body and he knows every inch of it by heart. The push and pull between us creates the perfect rhythm. The intensity builds and sensations I’ve never experienced ripple through me over and over.

  I moan. “Owen…”

  “I love it when you say my name.”

  Another wave of bliss rolls over me, and I’m unraveling.

  It’s happening to Owen, too. “Peyton.”

  It’s the last thing I hear before we come undone.

  * * *

  “Peyton?” Owen whispers. “Are you awake?”

  Of course I’m awake.

  I can’t fall asleep naked on the sofa in the locker room at the YMCA. But if he thinks I’m sleeping why is he trying to wake me up?

  What if he’s about to give me the just friends speech that I’ve given him so many times?

  Oh god. What if he regrets …

  I stop myself.

  Owen isn’t that kind of guy.

  My little voice is right about that much.

  He brushes the damp hair away from my face and kisses the top of my head. He thinks I’m sleeping.

  “If I had you … maybe I would do it,” he murmurs.

  What’s it and why would I have anything to do with his choice? I focus on the other part—

  If I had you.

  CHAPTER 36

  A Tiny Crack

  AFTER THE EPIC night at the Y, a little over a week ago, Owen and I settle into a routine. English class together
with lots of flirting and lunch in the library if I can dodge the Twins. Those are my favorite times. We talk about everything and nothing. Sometimes we sit in the stacks and hold hands. Other times we do homework together like a regular couple.

  Since we slept together, Owen hasn’t pushed about dating or giving him a shot. We both know that’s what we’re doing. Part of me wishes he would bring it up, because my answer would be different now. At the same time, things feel right—the kind of right that isn’t forced. The kind you ease into.

  The only downside to sleeping with Owen is that I want to do it again. But that requires being alone—a lot more alone than you can get in the library. So when he texts me and asks if we can go to the movies and somewhere else, I can’t think straight for the rest of the day.

  The Twins seem extra suspicious when they get home from practice. Cam knocks on my door three times to borrow three different supplies he needs for his homework, which makes no sense because he does most of it in class. He’s actually really smart—something I’m sure he doesn’t want his football buddies to know.

  Christian, on the other hand, is less stealth. While I’m getting ready, I hear him pacing in the hallway.

  I finally get sick of waiting for him to knock, and I open the door. “Did you want to come in?”

  “No, why?” He looks around like he thinks I’m talking to somebody else. “I’m just walking.”

  “You’ve been walking out here for fifteen minutes. Are you sure you don’t need something?”

  “I’m just worried.” Christian leans against the wall.

  Christian, worried? About what?

  Cam comes out of his room. “What’s going on?”

  “I was just telling Peyton that I’m a little worried,” Christian says.

  Cam nods as if he knows what we’re talking about. I’m glad someone does. “We’re both a little worried.”

  “About?”

  “This thing with Owen,” Cam says. “I know you said you two are just friends, but—”

  “We don’t want to see you get hurt,” Christian says.

  “Owen is…” Cam clears his throat and Christian jumps in. “Owen is a complicated guy. He has a lot of stuff going on.”

  “Like what?” He goes to school and the gym, and competes. That’s it, as far as they know. But I’m not about to enlighten them.

  “He’s not going to college,” Christian says. “Did he tell you that? He’s taking off right after graduation. He’s going backpacking around Europe or something.”

  “And?”

  “Do you really want to get involved with a guy who is just going to take off?” Cam asks.

  “I’m only here until March,” I remind them. “If Owen and I decided to get involved, the fact that he’s going backpacking around Europe in the fall wouldn’t factor into the equation.”

  “Wouldn’t you feel bad if he was gone and you’d never see him again?” Christian asks.

  Cam glares at his brother.

  This conversation is too weird for me. “I don’t know what you two are up to, but I’m getting dressed.”

  “Where are you going?” Christian asks.

  I give him a stern look. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Owen and I are going to the movies. Is that okay with you?”

  “The movies sounds like a date.” Christian looks to Cam for confirmation. “Right? That sounds like a date.”

  Cam nods. “Yeah, it does.”

  “If you’re so interested in dating, maybe you should find a girlfriend, Christian,” I say.

  He crosses his arms and frowns. “I don’t want a girlfriend. I had a girlfriend. She was a pain. Worse than a pain. Why do I have to get a girlfriend just because you’re going to the movies?”

  “You don’t have to find a girlfriend because I’m going to the movies, just like I can go to the movies without having a boyfriend.”

  “If you don’t want a girlfriend maybe you should stop leading Grace on,” Cam mumbles.

  Christian looks at his brother like he’s crazy. “Where the hell did that come from? Me and Grace are friends. She knows that.”

  “And you don’t like her more than a friend?” I shouldn’t get involved in this, but I’m happy the conversation has shifted away from me.

  “I don’t know.” Christian rubs the back of his head. “Why are we talking about this?”

  “I agree with Cam. You’re sending Grace mixed signals. You’re always flirting with her, but then you claim the two of you are just friends. It’s confusing.”

  “Confusing for who?” Christian asks.

  “For everyone,” I say.

  “Maybe what you and Owen are doing is confusing,” Christian fires back.

  Nice one.

  “I need to finish getting dressed.” I wave my fingers at them and close the door.

  I scroll through Owen’s texts from the past few days. Sweet, flirty, attentive—the kind of messages a boyfriend would send. And my responses have girlfriend written all over them.

  It’s time to get real and tell him that I’m ready to take a chance and see where this goes.

  Tonight.

  I wear my hair down and decide on jeans and a soft gray sweater layered over a stretchy tank.

  Owen texts when he’s on his way and I start getting nervous. How am I going to tell him that I changed my mind about our just-friends status?

  I think we should give things a try? That sounds awful.

  I really like you? A lot? More than a lot? That’s worse.

  I’m still wrestling with my options when the doorbell rings. I rush downstairs and open it.

  Owen smiles at me. He’s dressed in jeans and a flannel with the sleeves rolled up—the kind of shirt that’s super soft and perfect for cuddling.

  “Hey. You look great,” he whispers.

  “You look pretty good, too.”

  “Did you pick a movie?” he asks as he comes inside.

  “I was thinking we could skip the movie.”

  He leans close to my ear. “Did you want to spend some time in the women’s locker room?”

  I shove him and laugh. “I want to talk.”

  “Hmm. Now I’m curious.” He hooks his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and looks down at me. “I want to talk to you about something, too. Then we can hit the women’s locker room.”

  “Hey, Owen,” Christian says. He’s standing at the top of the stairs, watching us. It’s annoying and creepy at the same time.

  Owen tips his chin at him. “What’s up?”

  That’s when Cameron turns the corner at the landing. The Twins exchange conspiratorial looks. Now they’re both watching us.

  Christian clears his throat. “This thing going on between you two … It’s a bad idea.”

  For a second, I think he’s joking.

  “We’re just going to the movies,” Owen says.

  Cam walks halfway down the stairs and stands below Christian. “It’s nothing personal, Owen.”

  Who do they think they are?

  I turn on the Twins. “What the hell is wrong with you two? We’re going to the movies, not eloping.”

  “You’ve been spending a lot of time together. Things can happen,” Cam says. “You can end up having feelings for someone that you weren’t expecting.”

  “Are we talking about me, Cam?” I ask pointedly. “Or you?”

  Cameron looks away. “I’m just saying that sometimes feelings sneak up on you.”

  “And if they did, would it really be that bad?”

  Christian watches Owen, who hasn’t looked up once.

  Why is Owen so quiet? I bet he’s trying to stay calm so he won’t lose it and pummel my cousins. I’ve never seen him so uncomfortable. He looks lost—the same way he did the day I saw him sitting in the car with his mom before school.

  “You don’t want to get attached to him, Peyton,” Christian warns. “Trust me.”

  “Trust you to give me dating advice? That must be a joke. You don
’t even have the guts to tell Grace that you’re not interested in her. Are you just going to string her along until she leaves for college? Or are you planning to keep her around as a backup for holidays and summer break?”

  Christian scowls. “You can give me shit me if it makes you feel better, but it won’t change anything. Getting involved with him is a mistake.”

  “Why, Christian? Is he a serial killer? A bank robber? What’s so terrible that I can’t handle?”

  “I think we should go,” Owen says softly.

  I keep my eyes fixed on the Twins. “No. I want an answer. Is this about Owen being a fighter? Because I don’t care.”

  “It’s not about that,” Cam says. “We just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “You already said that, and I’m not a child. I can make my own decisions.”

  Owen gives the Twins a pleading look. “I would never hurt her.”

  “Maybe not on purpose,” Christian says.

  “Then what’s the problem?” I yell.

  Cameron curses under his breath. “You can’t get attached to him because—”

  “Because what?”

  “He’s gonna die,” Christian blurts out.

  For a second, I can’t make sense of the words. “What do you mean, die?”

  Christian slumps against the wall. “Sorry, Owen. But she’s our cousin.”

  I look at Owen, but he won’t make eye contact with me. “Owen?” When he doesn’t say anything, I turn back to my cousins. “Is this about his asthma?”

  The Twins look at each other, and Cam says, “Owen doesn’t have asthma.”

  “You’re wrong. I saw him have an attack.”

  Owen finally looks at me. “I was going to tell you, Peyton. I swear.”

  “Tell me what?” A strange feeling comes over me. This is how glass shatters. It starts with a tiny crack, and the pressure causes it to splinter.

  “Owen, do you have asthma?”

  He stares at the floor. “No.”

  It feels like someone punched me in the gut, and I reach for the door to steady myself. “You lied to me?”

  “I was going to tell you.”

  “Tell me what? I don’t even know what we’re talking about.”

  “I have a condition,” Owen says.

  “Like a disease?” What if it’s cancer?

  “No. It’s a genetic condition. I was born with it. I didn’t know until two years ago.” Owen looks at me like he knows what he’s about to say will crush me—and destroy us both.