by Kelsie Rae
“Did you know I wanted to quit?”
I jerk back, convinced I’ve heard him wrong. “What?”
“Yeah. I wanted to quit before I left for college because the idea of leaving you was unbearable.”
“I wouldn’t have let you––”
“I know. But I wanted to. More than you can imagine.”
Mind spinning, I force myself to stay in the present instead of getting lost in the what if’s that threaten to swallow me whole.
“W-why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper.
“Like you said, you wouldn’t have let me, anyway. And when I mentioned the idea to someone else, he shut it down. Fast. Told me that I was too young to throw away my future for a girl.”
“Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he returns, flicking on the blinker before turning down an unplowed road.
“Tell me,” I plead.
Lifting his chin toward a simple gray building up the road, he says, “We’re here.”
“Owen….”
“You still an expert at Star Wars trivia?” he asks, piquing my curiosity enough to drop the current subject. And besides, I want to enjoy tonight. And this conversation is only weighing me down.
With a scowl, I grab the door handle, then turn back to him, and mutter, “I see whatcha did there. And yes. I may or may not have an addiction to the movies, and I may or may not have been watching them every Friday night in sync with Grady and Turner.”
“And me,” Owen adds, smirking back at me. “‘Cause I was there too.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t doing it to be with you in spirit because you were still on my shit-list at the time. Grady and Turner, however….”
Amused, he grabs the collar of my jacket, tugging me closer to the center console. Then he pastes a hard, goofy kiss against my mouth. “Am I still on your shit-list?”
“Depends. Why did you ask if I’m still an expert in Star Wars trivia?”
“Because there’s a trivia tournament inside that building with a bunch of people who are just as hyped up on Obi-Wan Kenobi as you are.”
“He’s mine––”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You made it clear that if we ever want to have a relationship, you get a free hall pass for the guy––”
“Damn straight,” I interrupt. “But only the Ewan McGregor version. And don’t you dare think about talking me out of it.”
Chuckling, Owen brings my hand to his lips and gives me a softer, more gentle kiss than before. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Then he tilts his head toward the gray building that looms a few feet away from us. “Come on, Say. Let’s go get our nerd on.”
19
Saylor
This place is legit. I feel like I’m at a Comic-Con dedicated solely to Star Wars nerds and have never felt more at home in my entire life. Square tables are scattered around the giant room. Each one has four chairs tucked beneath them, along with mini-whiteboards the size of a standard piece of paper placed in the center and a black dry erase marker to match.
At the entrance, they handed each of us a badge and a table number, then directed us to the bar in the back corner with themed beverages. My grin widens as I scan the menu.
“Darth Mauled Pomegranate Cider?” I read aloud.
“How ‘bout the Qui-Gon Jinn and Tonic?” Owen counters with a smirk.
I cover my mouth to muffle my laughter before I drop my voice low and ask Owen, “How did you find this place?”
“You’d be surprised what a guy can find when he’s determined to impress a girl.” His eyebrows bounce up and down. “Is it working?”
Rising onto my tiptoes, I brush my lips against his cheek. “Maybe.”
“Hey, what can I get you guys?” the bartender interrupts.
“Oh. I’ll have a Death Star, please,” I tell him, my cheeks heating that he totally caught me getting cozy with the hottest guy in the room.
“And you?” the bartender asks Owen.
With another quick glance at the menu, Owen rattles off his order. “I’ll have a Hot Tauntaun. Thanks.”
“Coming right up.”
Owen sets a few bills on the counter. Then we grab our drinks and head to our designated table.
“You sure it was a good idea to decline teaming up with another couple?” Owen asks as he pulls out my chair.
Once seated, I look up at him. “Do you doubt me, young Padawan?”
“Of course not, Master,” he quips before taking the chair next to mine.
With a grin, I twirl the straw in my giant margarita. “By the way, this drink is delicious.”
He takes a sip of his, then nods his agreement as the host’s voice crackles over the speaker system.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Wookies and Wampas, please take a seat, and we’ll get started.” He pauses and looks around the room, waiting for a few of the stragglers to find their tables. Once they do, he continues. “The rules are simple. I will ask a question, then my girlfriend in the back, who’s dressed like Princess Leia, will start the timer. You’ll have thirty seconds to discuss potential answers before writing your final guess on the whiteboard. When the buzzer goes off, you’ll raise the whiteboard in the air, and the judges will walk around to confirm who’s correct and who needs to spend a little more time studying The Force.”
Laughter ensues, and the host waits for it to quiet down for a few seconds before he dives right back into the rules. “If you write the incorrect answer, the judges will collect your whiteboard, but you’re welcome to stay and cheer on your fellow Padawans. The questions will get progressively more difficult as the game goes on, and the winner will be promoted to Jedi and will have bragging rights until the next trivia night. Any questions?”
A few people raise their hands, and the host answers their questions before scanning the room a final time.
“Alright. Let’s begin. What color is Mace Windu’s lightsaber?”
Owen grabs the marker and writes the answer without any prodding. When the buzzer goes off, we raise it into the air.
Clearing his throat, the host announces, “The correct answer is purple.”
“Nailed it,” Owen whispers with a confidence that’s sexy as hell, especially when it involves one of my nerdiest passions.
“Next question. Who kissed Leia first, Han or Luke?”
Duh.
I steal the marker from Owen’s grasp and write Luke.
Thirty seconds later, and bam––I’m correct.
Back and forth, Owen and I pass the marker, laughing and drinking and soaking up each other’s company with an ease that should be terrifying, yet somehow feels like home.
And with each and every question, the participants are whittled down to only a handful.
“Alright, everyone,” the host calls out. “Next question. How many languages is C-3PO fluent in?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and search my memory. “Crap,” I murmur. “I can’t remember if it’s five or six million.”
“Six,” Owen returns, keeping his voice quiet to prevent anyone else from hearing his guess.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
Cringing, I hand him the marker and watch him scrawl the potential answer along the whiteboard.
“I hope you’re right,” I mutter.
“I am.”
My leg bounces beneath the high-top table. “How can you be so sure?”
“I may have been studying,” he returns, his grin sheepish.
I open my mouth to interrogate him further, but the buzzer goes off before I have the chance.
“The correct answer is over six million,” the host reveals, his head bobbing up and down as his gaze bounces from one whiteboard to the next. “That was a tough one. We only have two Padawan teams left, and the next question is a doozy. Which character is named after George Lucas’ son? And what species is he?”
“Dexter Jettster,” I whisper before grabbing the Expo marker from Owen’s grasp.
My gaze darts over to the final opposing team to see them quietly arguing over possibilities as the timer slowly ticks down to zero.
“Time’s up!” the host’s voice echoes through the speakers. “Remember, this is a two-part question. If you both only get one answer correct, we’ll move onto the next round, but if one of you is able to answer both questions correctly, we’ll be able to announce a winner. Raise your whiteboards, and let’s see what you were able to come up with.”
The crowd goes wild as their attention shifts from one board to the other before cheers erupt.
“And it looks like we have a winner!” With a nod directed at us, he adds, “Come on up, you two.”
As Owen and I slide out of our chairs, he tangles our fingers together. Then we walk up to the host. In one hand, he’s holding a microphone, and in the other, there’s a small plastic trophy that looks like the ones coaches hand out at kids’ soccer tournaments. This one, however, has a sticker of Baby Yoda with a green lightsaber and the words, “Do or do not, there is no try.”
I snort as I read the inscription and show it to Owen.
“Aw, aren’t you two a cute couple,” the host gushes. “Anyone else getting some major Leia and Han vibes over here?”
Hoots and hollers erupt, but I roll my eyes.
“Alright, Jedis. Anything you’d like to say to the young Padawans here?” The host motions to the crowd.
I laugh and shake my head before Owen takes the offered microphone and says, “May the Force be with you.”
More cheering ensues.
The host takes the microphone back and replies, “I’m sure it will be. Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone. We had a blast, as always, and we can’t wait to do this again in the future. Don’t forget to follow us on Facebook for updates on locations, trivia questions…you get the idea. Drive safely, and like our Jedi friend mentioned a moment ago, May the Force be with you.”
The trophy dangles from Owen’s grasp as we walk back through the parking lot to my car. It’s dark and cold but kind of peaceful too. Quiet somehow. Like my mind just got a good workout and isn’t running a thousand miles an hour, and my nerves have decided to take a backseat to the moment, too, allowing me to just…be here. With Owen.
It’s refreshing.
“So, did you have fun?” he murmurs, his hand on my lower back as we slowly eat up the distance between us and the car.
I nod. “I had a blast. You kind of knocked it out of the park, Owen.”
“Then, I guess I succeeded.”
“Definitely. Did you really study for this, though?”
He laughs, and the sound makes my gut tighten. “Will you judge me if I say yes?”
“You did?” I prod, my voice laced with disbelief.
With a soft click, he unlocks the doors, then guides me to the passenger side and opens mine. “Yeah. I really did.”
“I think that’s pretty adorable.”
“I wanted to impress you,” he admits, which is pretty much the sweetest thing he’s ever said. He has no idea what a catch he is. That any girl would be lucky to sit in traffic with the guy, let alone soak up his presence while doing an activity that he researched just for her.
Licking my lips, I peek up at him to find us closer than I expected, but I don’t back away.
“Well, it worked,” I murmur. “Not because you knew the answers to a bunch of nerdy Star Wars questions, but because you were so freaking thoughtful to find an activity that was pretty much perfect for me and did the research to make it happen. Then, as a cherry on top, you put in the effort to learn about it beforehand so that you could actually enjoy it with me, instead of just watching me participate from a distance. It was like…the trifecta of thoughtfulness.”
“I figured I owed you that much.”
My head cocks to one side. “What do you mean?”
“Before…I was always distracted by football and school.”
“Uh, I call bullshit,” I joke. “I was there, too, remember? And I can personally say that you’ve always been thoughtful and an amazing boyfriend.”
“I think you’re giving me too much credit.”
“And I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” I counter.
“You deserve the world, Say––”
The words sting. “You told me that the night you ended things. Do you remember that?”
His jaw tightens, but he nods.
“And do you remember what I told you?”
Scrubbing his hand over his face, he grumbles, “Yeah.”
“What did I tell you?” I press.
“That I was your world.”
“And I still stand by that. You were a great boyfriend before, Owen. If you weren’t, do you really think I’d still be single after all this time? You kind of ruined all men for me after that.” I smirk, but it doesn’t soften his scowl.
“But––”
I push my forefinger to his lips.
“Nope. No buts. I know what you’re going to say. That you were distracted with football and college opportunities, and you felt like you weren’t enough for me. But––no offense––that was bullshit.”
“Say….”
“I never wanted to be the only thing in your life. I just wanted to be part of it, Owen. That’s why I would’ve never let you quit football. That’s why I wanted to support you with your dreams.”
“Say––”
I lift my hand. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to open up that can of worms again. I just want you to know that I had a blast tonight, but if we went to a football game together, or even went to get your oil changed, I would’ve loved that too.”
His mouth quirks up, and he takes a step forward until the cold metal from the car presses into my back. “You think I can’t change my own oil?”
“I mean, you’re kind of a city boy now, aren’t you? Are you sure you’d be down for getting your hands dirty still?”
“Get in the car, Say,” he growls.
I know I’m playing with fire, but I lift my chin and challenge him. “Excuse me?”
Only a sliver of space separates our mouths from touching, and it makes the anticipation build around us like an anthem. “Get in the car so I can drive you home and show you exactly how dirty I like to get.”
“Only if you kiss me first,” I dare him, the chemistry between us swirling together into a heady, familiar concoction that makes my knees weak.
“If I kiss you now, we won’t make it home.”
His breath is warm and smells like peppermint. He must’ve snuck a mint after our drinks. It makes my mouth water. “Is that a promise?”
“Yes.”
“Your restraint is that brittle?”
“You have no idea––”
I cut him off with a kiss that’s warm and sweet––almost innocent––but enough to finally push Owen over the edge. Like a rubber band that’s been pulled too tight, he snaps and tangles his hands into my hair, holding me in place as his tongue pumps in and out of my mouth, jumping right past the sweet and innocent I’d created and replaces it with something almost indecent, yet more addictive than anything I’ve ever experienced in my entire life.
With a soft moan, I clutch at his forearms and suck on his tongue before he retreats, giving me a second to breathe. But who needs air when I have Owen Daniels? My teeth dig into his lower lip, silently begging him to stick around and keep torturing me with his mouth. My bite pulls a deep groan from him before the cold shell of the car presses into my back as Owen pushes me into it with more force. All I can feel, taste, touch, and smell is him. But it’s a familiar medley that’s even more consuming than I remember, putting our first kiss on his couch to shame. Hooking my fingers into his belt loops, I tug him closer until the heat from his torso warms me from head to toe and pins me in place.
“You’re playing with fire, Saylor,” he warns me.
“We’ve done it
in a car before,” I remind him. “Or are you too city for that too?”
A deep chuckle vibrates through his chest as he cups my cheek and brushes a few stray strands of hair out of my face. “You deserve a bed.”
“Beds are overrated.”
“You deserve to be worshiped.”
“You know how to worship me better than anyone.”
“Limited space makes that difficult.”
“I believe in you.”
He scans the empty parking lot, then grinds into me as if concluding that my idea isn’t as ridiculous as he’d initially decided.
“You really wanna do it here?”
I nod and pull him closer, but he dodges my kiss and smirks. “Like a couple of teenagers?”
“Isn’t that what we do best?”
His laugh is light and easy, but his fingers dig into my sides with a need that’s sexy as hell.
“On one condition,” he decides.
“And what’s that?”
“You stay at my place tonight so we can compare locations.”
My laugh rings out through the empty parking lot as I tug on the lapel of his coat to bring him closer to me. His mouth is ready and needy, swallowing my amusement and transforming it into a desperation that leaves me whimpering when he pulls away a few seconds later.
“Do we have a deal?” he murmurs, trailing kisses down my neck.
Unable to find my voice, or even think straight for that matter, I nod.
“Good girl.”
I’m right. Even though we’re both way too big to fit into the back of my car, there’s something real and raw about finally giving in to the magnetic connection we’ve been fighting for too long.
But the bastard is right too. Because a bed is so much better than the back of a car, regardless of how horny a couple of not-teenagers can be. There’s space. And freedom to move. And opportunities to worship each other the way we deserve.