“Opie?”
I stand up straight and take a deep breath. My eyes are still full of tears, but I’m keeping them in. “I’m sorry, Blake. I really am. I’ll control myself today.”
She watches me carefully. She knows I’m hurting, but she should get to be happy, shouldn’t she?
“Seriously, Blake. I’ll be good, I promise. Quit hovering.” I sigh when she doesn’t leave the bathroom. Instead I threaten, “I have to pee.”
Blake snorts out a laugh. “Alright, alright, I’m leaving.” She leaves the bathroom, but stops right outside the door and turns back around. “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. We can hang here and the boys can find something to do.”
I’m shaking my head before Blake even finishes. “No, we’re going. Now, go kiss your boyfriend and make his friend uncomfortable. I’ll be out in a few.” I close the door in her face.
I look at my reflection in the mirror of the bathroom, knowing that Blake means well. That doesn’t mean I want to deal with it. I know she cares. I know I shouldn’t snap at her or her happiness, but I can’t control the retorts, the barbs. At this point, I just want to say fuck it. I’m gonna be me and, for once, I’m not going to feel guilty about it.
We all piled into Harley’s Ranger Rover, me in the back with my new-found sarcastic friend, Owen. I know he is watching me. Everyone is.
They are waiting for me to break and fall apart.
It’s coming. I can feel it.
He keeps looking at me, like he’s making sure I’m okay, making sure I’m not going to break down in the middle of this stupid museum that my best friend and her annoying boyfriend and friend have dragged me to.
What’s wrong with laying in my PJs, listening to ear-splitting screamo music, and eating my weight in ice cream?
God, that’s what I wish I was doing right now.
Being here, around these people, and the love birds, is harder than I thought it would be.
Last night when Blake told me I would be heading out with them, I thought it was going to be a good way to get my mind off things. But instead, I’m reminded of the times I spent here with Matt. We’re both music freaks, so coming here was our Mecca. Now, all I see is hopelessness and broken dreams.
Matt and I were not in a good place, but seeing him, with her, and the possibility it wasn’t the first time? That hurts. That kills me, because even though I was pulling away, I thought we were on the same page. Sort of.
God, this is hard. I can’t even keep my thoughts straight anymore.
Instead, I snipe; I bitch; I moan; I make the lives of the people around me hard, because it makes me feel better.
Shouldn’t I get some time though? To grieve something I’ve lost? To figure out who I am after all of this?
I glare at the sunlight streaming in the museum windows, wishing for a storm, a cloud, something to match my mood. Because this lightness, this brightness, makes me want to scream. I don’t want to feel light and happy. I want to feel dark and angry.
Happy couples surround me. I have nothing else to look at. I can’t even see the exhibits on Pink Floyd, The Rolling Stones, The Beatles…Hell, I can’t even focus on the Bruno Mars suit hanging in the glass display in front of me.
Storms have kept me level for a long time. They are there when I need something to grab ahold of, even if only for a moment. Thunder and lightning is fleeting—just long enough to give you a show; just long enough for you to get attached—but the storm always ends.
Storms…relationships…they always end.
Without looking Owen’s way as he walks behind me, I know he’s staring at the back of my head…trying to figure me out. It makes my body go on full alert. It was the same in the kitchen. I took one look at him and knew that this man could be a heart-breaker. He makes me react in a way I never thought was possible. I hate that he affects me. So, I do what every girl in my position would do—especially feeling this vulnerable and needy—I shove that shit down. I shove it down to the darkest depths of my soul.
I’m not ready to deal with him.
Concern has flooded Owen King’s gaze ever since he met me. Instead of being charming, and slightly sarcastic, I went for attack mode.
And he didn’t back off. He kept coming for me, like he knew I needed someone to listen—to hear me out, to let me snark.
Why?
I look over where Blake and Harley are starting to attract some attention. They have their arms wrapped around each other. It’s hard to tell where one starts and the other ends.
I hate them. In this moment, I hate seeing her so freaking happy. I hate seeing the loving looks they give each other. I hate it and I finally snap.
“Alright, lovebirds. We get it. You’re in love. Come and join the rest of us.”
Blake glances at me with questions and no answers in her eyes. “Opie…”
Harley releases his arm from around her. “It’s fine. You girls go head off. Check out the pop music. King and I will check rock and roll.”
“Maybe I want to check out Pop,” Owen interjects.
Another careful glance from Blake. “What do you want to do?”
I want to forget about everything in my life and how much it hurts to even stand here with them—with Blake, who I know better than myself, with Harley, who makes her happier than anyone else has ever tried, with Owen, whose pain is as powerful as my own.
“I don’t care,” is my cool response.
Owen waves them off. “It’s cool guys. I’ve got this.”
I catch Blake’s worried look, but Harley murmurs something in her ear and they take off. I don’t blame her for leaving. She had to deal with me last night and today is certainly not a walk in the park for me. I can’t keep my bitterness to myself because every time I see her and Harley, I’m even more on edge knowing I don’t have what they have. I never did.
“Ready?” he asks, breaking me out of my thoughts.
I nod, not answering, because my old habits are rearing up again and the sharp retort sits on the tip of my tongue.
He walks close to me, his overall size intimidating, but he doesn’t scare me.
How does he do that? He makes me want to get closer, to use his strength, but also want to run away at the same time.
Earlier in the kitchen I wasn’t paying attention to his attractiveness. I didn’t want to notice how his red hair gleams in the light. It looks so soft, and it’s slightly wavy on the top of his head. His red beard is tamed, but it’s curly and I can see other colors—light blond, and a dirty blonde color—swirling around in his beard. And his eyes—dear Lord—they are the bluest things since the Atlantic Ocean. Those eyes of his know what I’m thinking. I see it every time our eyes meet.
Heartbreak recognizes heartbreak. I wonder what happened to him that he senses it so easily.
“You ok?” He asks me for what feels like the tenth time, but it’s really only the second. His voice rumbles like thunder and I notice how close he’s standing to me.
As a child, thunderstorms fascinated me. I love the heat in the air, the electricity that prickles around you. He feels like a thunderstorm. He’s the thunder. The low rumble. I’m the lightning. The hot streak of light that flashes through the sky before the thunder but they never go off at once. Lightning always leads the thunder in a storm.
Sometimes, I feel like I’m always the one leading people to their destruction. Maybe I was the reason Matt strayed. Maybe it was me, not willing to change or compromise to be the person he needed me to me.
I just hope someone can survive the destruction I leave behind as I try to outrun the pain that floods me at every thought, at every worried glance by my friends.
My anger at myself consumes me and I glare at Owen. “Fine.”
It’s weird to feel this at home with someone who I’ve only known for a few hours. It’s strange for me to want to know more about him. I don’t push it, though. The last thing I need is another guy consuming my life. I’m having a hard enough t
ime with the one I just let go.
He snorts and I slice him with a look. His response is another dazzling smile and it makes me want to rethink everything, but instead, I keep moving forward because I have to. I can’t stop.
We stop at an exhibit and stand in silence for a moment before he finally speaks, “I know what that ‘fine’ means.”
Ignoring Owen, I focus on the memorabilia that surrounds us. On any other day, I’d be reveling in seeing the exhibits for a tenth time, enjoying that buzz I get when I’m here. Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” lyrics spray-painted on the giant brick wall are a good distraction so I try to read them. He’s close again, his arm brushing up against mine.
“Most of the time, fine is not good,” Owen notes, standing near enough that I can feel his warmth radiating through the light jacket he’s wearing.
I look up, and up, because the dude is huge. “Sometimes, fine means fine.”
Another snort, and I can’t stop myself from finding it adorable. “Not once in my twenty-three years has a woman’s fine ever meant fine.”
“Then you were hanging out with the wrong girls,” I snap.
He sucks in a breath. “Man, you know how to cut deep, don’t you?”
Looking at him, I can’t help but wonder what, or who, hurt him.
He’s interesting—different from most guys. He doesn’t look at me like I’m an obnoxious girl. He doesn’t look at me like I’m beneath him, which Matt did plenty of times when my mouth would get me into trouble.
Their differences are so readily apparent.
Owen’s calm; Matt was always on the go. Owen is kind and appears to already care about me; Matt didn’t want to know how I felt, he wanted to know how things, choices we’d made about our lives and futures, affected him and only him.
Owen is steady, soothing. He stands in the middle of the crowded exhibit, but his eyes don’t leave mine. He doesn’t care that people bump into us. Some grumble in annoyance. He doesn’t move. He watches me with those oceanic eyes of his and they swirl with emotions I want to hide away from, emotions I want to shove deep down inside and forget for a while.
Because I can’t move on this fast. I acknowledge that Owen has some weird voodoo spell over me, but maybe that’s just my heart searching for another—anything and anyone to keep me safe, to keep me from completely breaking. Getting lost in Owen isn’t safe right now. I still have unanswered questions about Matt. I didn’t want, I still don’t want, to believe that he was continuously seeing others behind my back. But he was. That stings worse than losing him. Because I never saw what was right in front of me.
Owen doesn’t hide from me. We stare at each other; my heart races in my chest when I see his own hidden pain. He lets me see the sadness that surrounds him. For a minute, I think we’re one in the same.
He’s breaking too. From what? From whom?
Whoever she is, I want to kick her ass for wounding this man standing next to me, his back ramrod straight, as he turns to look away from me. His breathing is fast and I see the tension in his body. He’s coiled and ready to explode.
To his credit, he keeps it together better than I ever could.
“Sorry,” I tell him hurriedly, hoping to calm the growing tension.
He nods, but continues to take deep breaths through his nose as if he is trying to calm himself.
“I’m not myself. I didn’t mean to go all bitch on you.”
He gives me another nod, but he continues to avoid looking at me.
I walk away from him, knowing that this, whatever kind of feelings he invokes, isn’t what I need or want right now. Ignoring him yelling my name is easy. I need to disappear. I need to leave. I need to get away from everyone and everything and grieve alone.
It’s times like these I wish my mom was still around. She would know what to do. She would be able to help me wade through the complicated feelings I’m having right now.
It’s been years since both of my parents died. I haven’t thought about them in a long time, but each time I do, it brings up those happy memories of when we were still a family, and that pang in my heart isn’t far behind.
I find a corner away from the bustle of the museum patrons and slide down onto the cool ground. My tears come willingly. I’ve been trying to keep them at bay for hours.
Crying has never been my thing. I just wasn’t a crying kind of girl. I haven’t cried since my parent’s funeral. But this? Heartache and heartbreak? This shit is real.
It hurts. It fucking kills me to be that girl again—the one who can’t breathe because her heart is broken.
As I sit, fending off good Samaritans, I know he’s going to come looking for me. I’ve only known him a few hours, but I can already tell he puts others above himself. He chose to stay with me, instead of escaping from my bitchiness and disappearing with his friend. He chose to stay, to make sure I was okay. He will shove aside his feelings and find me again, I know he will.
Just that little glimpse, and the way he reacted to me being a complete and utter bitch, showed me he’s hiding a pain bigger than my own.
He’s aching. He’s breaking. But he’s guarding himself from everyone. He doesn’t let them see the real him.
Because the real Owen King?
I have a feeling he isn’t as strong as the offensive lineman would like everyone to believe.
The tears continue to fall. I’ve given up on stopping them. I don’t want to break down here, in public, but while I’m facing the wall, hoping people just walk on by, I know this has been coming. Last night was just the tip of the iceberg.
I’m grieving—the loss of a relationship, loss of a friendship, loss of a love. At one point, I believed I was going to marry Matt. He was going to be my prince. He was going to make me happy.
Then, something changed. I changed. I wanted more than just sitting at the table together and looking at our phones. I want more than a screen relationship.
I want a real relationship—like the one my parents had.
They would sit and talk to each other for hours every night after I went to bed. I still remember the comfort I got when I woke late at night and could still hear them talking.
They were always laughing and smiling with each other.
They fought, sure, like every couple, but the thing I remember the most about them is that they were happy. They were invested in each other. They weren’t just a mom and a dad. They were a wife and a husband. They were best friends. They loved each other completely.
I want that. I want someone to love me completely.
I’m a strong personality. I’m a lot to take sometimes. Matt never appreciated me. Even after five years together, he never got over the things about me that annoyed him. If he didn’t like them after five years, he never would.
I know that life doesn’t give you many second chances. Right now, I have a second chance at something. Whether or not I take itis up to me.
Owen’s pain scares me.
There’s enough pain inside of me. Can two people come together and make it work when all they share is the pain from a past relationship?
I lay my head on my knees, trying to control my tears, and all I can think about is Owen—his tall frame, his large arms that would surround me twice if he ever hugged me, his long legs that seem to go on for miles, his caring eyes, his knowing smile.
He thinks he knows me, but he doesn’t. He thinks we share pain, and on some level we do, but underneath it all, my pain is different. He hasn’t told me what causes his pain, but mine, it’s like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. Waiting for me to come to terms with the fact that my ex-finance was cheating on me.
I resolve here and now that Owen and I will just be friends. Nothing more, nothing less. I don’t have it in me to let another into my heart.
Chapter 4
Owen
She’s run off and I can’t find her. I look around the entire Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and I keep getting stopped by fans, or by annoyed people who are won
dering who the lumbering idiot is running around the museum.
I don’t care. They can grumble and whine all they want. I don’t know where she is.
All I had to do was keep her company and her mind off of her heartbreak. Instead? She snaps at me, I almost lose my cool, and she runs away.
I’ve lost Blake’s best friend and I don’t know where to look. I don’t even know why she ran away.
I can’t think about anything but her right now. That never happens. I’m never not thinking about her, but Opie has overtaken my mind and I’ve only just met her.
When she and I met, it was a friendship that turned into more. We slowly learned how to love each other as we figured out who we were as individuals. We fell in love in high school, but we really learned the meaning of love when we were in college, when things were no longer in our control.
Anna looks up at me, her eyes wide. “Stop staring.”
I can’t help it. I’m entranced by her. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you captivate me.”
She rolls her eyes, in that adorable teenage way. “Stop, Owen.”
I cup her face with my large palm. It encompasses her whole cheek, but she doesn’t shrink away. She’s never not leaned into my touch. “I love you.”
Her breathing picks up when I say those words. She knows what those words mean to me. To us.
She doesn’t say them back, though.
Love is weird. That much I do know. Right now, she’s my everything. I don’t want that to change. She doesn’t say the words, but I don’t let that affect how I feel about her. Because I know, in my heart, that my feelings are true. I know that I love her. People say we’re too young to have decided all this, but I know I will marry this girl.
“Owen.” She whispers my name and kisses me on the lips—gently, carefully. Our lips part and she smiles at me. “I adore you.”
“I know, sweet girl. I know.”
It’s not the same, but we have our whole lives to fall in love, over and over again.
Breaking out of my past-riddled trance, I focus on who I’m supposed to be looking for, but that memory almost makes me want to give up, to let Opie figure this out on her own.
Between Hearts: A Romance Anthology Page 18