by Naomi Martin
After that, I check in with my co-worker, who tells me to take my time since it’s a slow night. I grab my sweater and bag from my locker and then head out to the table where Owen is sitting and set his cup of cocoa down. In return, he gives me a small smile that almost looks real. I’ll call that progress. Baby steps.
“Ready?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah.”
Out on the street, we walk side by side, neither of us speaking for a long minute. Owen’s looking down at the sidewalk, one hand stuffed deep in his pocket, the other wrapped around his cup. Even though there’s less than a foot of physical distance separating us, it feels like that chasm is much, much wider, and feels far colder than the cool autumn air around us.
We turn down a side street and walk into one of the small parks that dot the area. This one is dominated by a large fountain in the center, with four smaller ones bordering the circular concrete walkway. All of them have lights that change color beneath the rippling surface of the water, giving the fountains a beautiful, almost mystical quality.
We take a seat on a bench on the grass area overlooking the display. Neither of us speaks. We just sit there, sipping our cocoa as we stare at the ever-shifting colors of the water fountains. I know he’s here at my request and that it’s me who screwed up in the first place. Which means it’s up to me to open things up.
“Listen,” I start, “I just wanted to say that I was sorry. Really sorry.”
His eyes remain fixed on the fountains and he says nothing – he’s waiting for more from me. Understandable. Like I told Bonnie in what feels like another lifetime at this point, sometimes a simple sorry isn’t sufficient to fix things. I sigh to myself.
“Olivia explained what actually happened,” I go on. “And that you weren’t really there with that girl.”
“Funny, I could have told you that if you’d given me a chance to explain.”
“I know. And I’m sorry I didn’t hear you out first,” I say. “And I’m sorry I slapped you.”
“And for making me look like a complete asshole in front of everybody?”
I nod. “Yes. For that, too.”
This is where things get a little dicey. Even though I truly am sorry for jumping to conclusions about Owen and that girl, I still think what he actually was doing with her is sort of creepy. I mean, he was more or less acting as Donovan’s pimp. And I honestly didn’t even know he knew Donovan – which leads to a thousand other questions. But I rein it in, knowing I need to save those for another day. Tonight is about apologizing and fixing things with Owen.
He looks at me with a strange light in his eyes. I can’t quite figure out what he’s thinking, but the way his lips are curling upward into the tiniest of smiles tells me that he’s going to forgive me.
“Do you really think I cared that little for you?” he asks. “Do you really think I’d just cheat on you out in the open like that?”
I think he’s going to forgive me, but apparently not before he makes me twist and squirm for a bit, first. Which is fine, I guess. He has the right, after what I did.
“I didn’t know what to think, Owen,” I say honestly. “I just saw you with that girl and I… reacted.”
“And what you did with Asher? Was that just reacting, too?”
My cheeks burn bright with my shame and embarrassment. I knew he’d bring it up, but I’m as unprepared to answer for it now as I have been since it happened. At the time, while we were doing it, it made perfect sense. But with a little time and distance, I can see that I was just all up in my feelings and not thinking clearly. It was just another form of lashing out like a petulant, immature girl.
“It was reacting. I was so hurt that I wanted you to hurt, too,” I admit. “I wanted you to know what it felt like–”
“But I didn’t actually do what you thought.”
“Well, I know that now,” I point out. “Look, I screwed up. I screwed up huge and I’m sorry, Owen.”
He remains silent and just sits there, staring at the fountains in front of us. I don’t know what else to say to him. I can apologize until I’m blue in the face but if he doesn’t accept it, there’s nothing I can do.
A cool wind blows in off the ocean, carrying the heavy scent of the sea along with it. I shiver and pull my sweater a little tighter around myself. Finally, after what feels like forever, he turns to me, an inscrutable expression on his face.
“You know I care about you, don’t you?” he asks.
I give him a halting nod. “I think so?”
His smile is wry. “I do, Winter. I care about you.”
“And I care about you, too.”
“What I liked most about you was that you weren’t like other girls around here,” he goes on. “You were more… mature. You weren’t just some giggling idiot. You were thoughtful, and you didn’t fly off the handle about things.”
The way he keeps using the past tense forms a knot in my stomach that tightens painfully. It’s as if he doesn’t believe those things about me anymore – not that I’ve given him reason to, I guess. I want to tell him I still am those things and more, but I know my actions lately haven’t quite supported that statement, so I remain quiet.
“I hate what you did – both assuming the worst about me and what you did with Asher.”
“I do, too, Owen. Believe me.”
“If we’re going to fix this, I need you to make me a promise,” he says.
“Name it.”
“I need you to not jump to conclusions, Winter.” His voice is earnest. “I need you to talk to me before you just assume something.”
“I promise.”
“And promise me that you’ll be the girl I got to know – the mature one I like,” he presses. “Not the one who lashes out and doesn’t communicate. That’s what I want more than anything.”
I nod eagerly. “I can do that, Owen. I really can.”
When he wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him, I feel my heart swell as it’s flooded with a profound sense of relief. Everything is going to be okay. I lean my head against his shoulder and let those words float through my mind on an endless loop – everything is going to be okay.
As we sit together, my body pressed to his and a feeling of happiness and contentment washing over me, another thought passes through my mind and I groan.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Does this mean I need to apologize to Asher?” I wonder. “I mean, I did kind of use the poor guy.”
He chuckles softly. “I don’t think you need to worry about that,” he replies. “According to him, you gave him the best night of his life.”
“Great,” I mutter.
Owen looks at me and arches his eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. “Did you really slap him around?”
I give him a hesitant, crooked grin. “I was really mad. I was pretending it was you I was slapping.”
He pauses for a moment then finally gives me that heart-melting smile, laughing softly.
I jab him in the ribs and grin. “What’s so funny?”
He shrugs. “I just think he’s going to be really disappointed when he finds out you were thinking of me the whole time.”
We sit together for a little while longer, laughing and talking together before he walks me back to work. And when he kisses me just outside the coffeehouse, I slip back inside feeling happier than I have in what feels like forever.
Chapter Seventeen
“Did your mom see that costume?” he asks incredulously.
I flash Owen a sultry smile. “Not exactly,” I admit. “She left for a work function before I left. Thankfully.”
“Good thing,” he replies. “I have a feeling she never would have let you out of the house in it.”
“I have a feeling you’re right,” I agree with a laugh.
“But let me just say, I appreciate the hell out of that costume.”
“Why, thanks.”
We stroll hand-in-hand down the midway of Sapphire B
ay’s annual Halloween carnival. He’s dressed as Al Capone and I’m wearing a risqué nurse’s uniform – short skirt; tight, boob-enhancing, low-cut blouse; fishnet stockings; and platform heels. I know it’s probably not the most practical costume in the world for walking around a carnival, but I look good in it.
I’m not usually one to wear slutty Halloween costumes, but I really wanted to look sexy tonight. And seeing the lust shining in Owen’s eyes every time he looks at me confirms that I made the right call – and makes it worth any discomfort from the ridiculous shoes I’m wearing.
“Hey, isn’t that Bonnie over there?” he asks. “By the dunk tank?”
I glance over, a knot suddenly forming in my belly. Sure enough, Bonnie and a couple of her friends are standing a few feet away. She’s dressed as Hester Prynne, complete with the Scarlet A emblazoned on her breast. It’s a geeky as hell costume and I love it. Part of me wants to run over and tell her how much, but I just look away and hold onto Owen’s hand.
“You want to go talk to her?” he offers.
I shake my head. “Hard pass, thanks.”
He frowns. “You know, she was a good friend to you. You guys really should work it out.”
I roll my eyes. “You sound like my mother.”
“Your mom’s a smart lady.”
I grin. “Sometimes, I suppose.”
It’s been a couple of weeks since Owen and I patched things up and got back together, and it’s been better than ever. But I can’t say the same about things with Bonnie. She still hasn’t uttered a single word to me since the night of our fight. She won’t even look at me when she passes me in the hall. She just breezes past, her head held high and her eyes straight forward, like I don’t even exist.
The entire situation has caused my mom no small amount of distress, and she’s urged me every single day – at least once a day, but usually more – to make things right with Bonnie. To fix whatever’s broken and get our friendship back on track. Every time, I tell her that I want that, too. More than anything. And I honestly do.
But I’m not going to be Bonnie’s friend when it’s on her terms, and her terms alone. I’m not going to let her or anybody else dictate my life to me. I won’t let somebody tell me who I’m allowed to be friends with – and not allowed to be friends with. I’m not going to be friends with somebody who thinks they can control all aspects of that friendship. And whether she chooses to acknowledge it or not, that’s exactly what Bonnie is doing.
I know she’s got history and some personal issues, both real and imagined, with Olivia and Asher – and, by extension, every single one of their friends – but that has nothing to do with me. I wasn’t here when the original beef went down. I played no part in it, and it doesn’t involve me in any way, shape, or form.
It’s not my problem, no matter how hard Bonnie tries to make it mine. I don’t have to choose sides in their little war. And by trying to force me to do just that, she’s driving that wedge further and further between us.
Bonnie finally turns and sees us standing there, and I give her a hesitant smile and a small wave. Her eyes narrow to a glare that could curdle milk and she turns her back to me. The iciness in that glare, though – I’m tempted to get myself checked out for frostbite. I sigh and let Owen lead me away, an expression of compassion on his face.
“Sorry,” he says.
“Why are you so interested in getting Bonnie and I back together, anyway?” I ask.
He shrugs. “She was a good friend to you,” he replies. “I think you need good examples like her in your life. That’s all.”
“Good examples?” I scoff. “Dear God, you really have been talking to my mom, haven’t you?”
“Come on, now, it never hurts to have good people in our lives,” he presses. “Despite the fact that she hates me and all, I like Bonnie. I always have.”
“Well, it’s not really you she hates,” I explain. “It’s the idea of you – what you represent. And that you’re friends with Asher – which automatically makes you guilty of all of Asher’s crimes.”
“Great.” He snorts. “That sounds easy to fix.”
“About as easy as my issue with her, I’m afraid.”
We walk to a concession stand and Owen buys me a blue cotton candy. We walk to a bench and sit down together to enjoy our sugary treat.
“Are you having a good time?” Owen asks.
I nod. “The best.”
“Well, look at you two all cozy.”
I feel Owen tense beside me and I give him a curious look. Then, I turn to see Asher and Samuel strolling up to the bench we’re seated on – neither of them are in costume, and both have salacious grins on their faces as they look at me. Two pairs of eyes slide up and down my body and I suddenly feel a warm wave of self-consciousness come over me as a demure smile touches my lips.
I’d be lying if I said their attention wasn’t flattering. It makes me feel sexy. Powerful. I know it’s wrong to feel like that, but I’m not used to the sort of attention these three give me and I can’t help but eat it up. It’s petty and childish, but I can’t stop it any more than I can keep myself from breathing. I don’t think anybody in my position would be able to.
“Where have you been hiding out, Owen?” Asher asks. “We barely see you at school anymore.”
“And we haven’t seen you at Blackjacks in a minute,” adds Samuel.
Owen shrugs casually, but I can still feel the tension in his body and I wonder if it’s because of everything that happened between me and Asher. It makes me think that maybe there are still some lingering issues between them because of it, and I start to feel bad about possibly ruining their friendship.
“I’ve just been spending some time with Winter,” he tells them.
Asher nods, but his eyes linger on mine. In them, I see a flash of something like hurt. Or sadness. It strikes me then that he might have expected – or possibly wanted – something to develop between us after I’d slept with him. It was something I hadn’t considered, since I know Asher is all about spreading the love around. But sitting here, face to face with him and seeing that hurt and disappointment in his eyes, I wonder if I had it all wrong. The emotion in his face quickly dissipates, though, as he turns back to Owen.
“Yeah, well, you should come out to Blackjacks soon, man,” he says.
“Very soon,” Samuel puts in. “You’re missed around there, brother.”
Owen laughs, but it’s tight and sounds about as genuine as the smiles on Asher’s and Samuel’s faces look. There’s something going on, some subtext to their words I’m not quite catching.
Owen nods. “Yeah, I’ll carve out some time to come hang out.”
“Be sure you do,” Asher replies.
The hard edge in his voice tells me it’s more a command than an invitation. That belief is further bolstered by the uncomfortable expression on Owen’s face. Asher and Samuel both give me a final lingering stare before they turn and walk away, the lust shining in their eyes looking almost predatory. And suddenly, I’m not quite as flattered by the attention. Maybe I’m being melodramatic, but there’s almost something sinister in their gazes that creeps me out.
“What was that all about?” I wonder.
Owen shakes his head. “Nothing. Just Asher being Asher.”
“Does this have to do with… what happened?” I don’t really want to ask, but I have to. “Are you avoiding them because of me?
He turns and gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I can see the tension in the set of his jaw – there is clearly something going on. Owen reaches out and cups my chin, bringing my face to his, and he gives me a slow, sweet kiss.
“It has nothing to do with that,” he assures me. “I promise.”
“Then what is it?” I press. “Obviously, there’s some awkwardness or something between you guys and–”
He sighs. “Asher can just be a dick sometimes,” he explains. “And Samuel’s his lapdog and he’ll go along with whatever Asher
says. It’s not a big deal. Believe me.”
I purse my lips. “Kind of seemed like a big deal.”
“It’s not,” he insists. “We go through these phases sometimes. We don’t always get along. It’s like you and Bonnie.”
His point is driven home, filling me once more with a certain sadness as I think about the tattered ruins of my friendship with Bonnie. I look down at the ground, kicking at the litter of popcorn, candy wrappers, and empty cups.
“Hey, let’s not let any of this garbage get us down,” Owen says encouragingly. “The night is young and there is fun to be had.”
He gets to his feet and reaches out to me. I take his hand and giggle as he pulls me to my feet, then wraps me in a tight embrace. As we detach ourselves from one another and head back down the midway, the sound of carnival music and screaming, laughing children fills my ears. But my mind is otherwise occupied with questions – the most prominent of them being, what in the hell is going on between those three? And why are Asher and Samuel so insistent about Owen getting out to Blackjacks?
Chapter Eighteen
“Mom, are you home?” I call out.
The house is dark and quiet – obviously empty. She sent me a text a couple of hours ago saying she likely wouldn’t be home tonight, but it never hurts to be sure. Giggling, I pull Owen in after me and then close the door behind him. He turns me around and pushes me up against the door, his mouth finding mine in the darkness. Our tongues dash together with the need of long-lost lovers, and I can taste the sugary sweetness of the cotton candy still on his lips.
The intensity of our kiss steals the breath from my lungs, and I pull back a moment to catch it again. I laugh softly and place a hand on his chest to stop him from swooping back in.
“Hold up there, cowboy,” I say. “I’m parched and need a drink.”
My heels thump across the hardwood floor as I walk through the rounded arch that leads into the kitchen, turning on lights as I go. Owen follows me in and slips out of his jacket, hanging it on the back of a chair. As I grab a soda out of the refrigerator, he drops his hat and tie on top of his coat.
