Four Years Later
Page 20

But not me. I’m not close to Owen. I’m just his friend.
So stupid, how I can’t let this go, but … it devastates me. What did I expect, though? We’ve only known each other for a few weeks. I’ve never been a believer in insta-love, though Kari certainly has been. She’s still chasing after that stupid Brad, yet he acts like he doesn’t want to give her the time of day.
Owen always acts like he wants to give me the time of day, yet we’re just friends.
Argh. If I could smack myself in the face and knock some sense into my head, I so would. I’m like a broken record. The iTunes playlist put on repeat. Again and again the words rattle around in my brain, pulse through my blood.
Just friends. Just. Friends.
Maybe I need to embrace those words. Remember them. Maybe that’s all we really are. At least, according to Owen. I need to prepare myself. He’ll leave me eventually. Move on, because that’s what he does. He’s never had a steady girlfriend; he’s admitted that to me more than once. So what am I doing, setting myself up to fail with Owen?
I need to harden my heart. Not let him in.
But I’m afraid it’s too late. He’s already so in, there’s no way I can get him out anytime soon.
And I don’t want to, either.
CHAPTER 13
Owen
Something happened. And somehow, I ruined everything.
The weather is shit. It’s like the skies closed up special for the game and the minute it was over, the clouds parted, opened up and dumped enough water to flood the entire stadium. Getting out of the parking lot was less of a nightmare for us than for the regular folks, since we got to park in the special team lot, but still, it took awhile. And I flat-out couldn’t resist when Drew asked us to go out to dinner with them.
Chelsea had agreed readily, but she was quiet the entire meal. I have no idea if I pissed her off and I wasn’t about to ask her in front of Fable and Drew, so I tried my best to include her in the conversation. But she wasn’t having it. Not that she was rude, but she’d sort of withdrawn into herself, remaining quiet as she sat by my side. Fable noticed. She asked Chelsea if she was feeling all right, and Chels confessed she had a headache and that she was tired, but she’d be fine.
That was Fable’s cue to give me a sharp look that told me point blank I needed to take care of her. I promised I would, sending her an equally pointed look back that she should stay out of my business, but I think it went undetected.
Typical.
We’d already finished dinner and Drew looked exhausted, his arm slung along the back of Fable’s chair, his fingers twirling the ends of her hair. I watched them, trying to see them from Chelsea’s perspective, wondering what she might think as she spent time with them. Seeing them with fresh eyes, especially with a girl I’d like to make mine sitting next to me, I’d never been so aware of the easy, affectionate way between them until now.
The love between them is like a living, breathing thing. They look at each other and you feel it. They touch each other and you see it. When I was younger—hell, six months ago—I always thought the two of them were ridiculously sappy together. Like, over-the-top in love. When we’d first all moved in together, I’d been embarrassed to catch them in each other’s arms, kissing. They’d never done anything inappropriate around me, but I guess their open affection for each other just never felt that comfortable for me to see.
Of course, I’d been a teenage boy full of hormones, and not a big believer in love and all that shit. Checking out hot chicks and wanting to get my hands on their bodies in any way possible, yeah—that’s what motivated me at that age.
Now, though, I’m starting to realize I want what Fable and Drew have. I know I’m young, but shit, they were young, too, when they first met and fell in love. And look at them. Years later, they still act like they’re totally gone over each other. They’re married, they have a baby, he’s beyond busy with his career, she’s busy taking care of Autumn, and they still look at each other as if they’ve only just met and they can’t believe they have each other.
Yeah. I want that sort of thing. And I think I want it with Chelsea.
She doesn’t seem to want it with me, though. I don’t know what happened, what turned her mood. Maybe she hadn’t enjoyed herself at the game after all. I know sports aren’t her thing and she’s not a football fan whatsoever, but shit, we were sitting in the skybox, getting the deluxe treatment. Wade will shit himself when he finds out I went and didn’t take him. At least he would have appreciated the game.
Maybe Fable told her something that freaked her out. I know they talked about me when I took off and bought the sweatshirt for her, but what could Fable have said that would have made Chelsea become so damn quiet?
I haven’t a clue, but she’s completely withdrawn from me and I f**king hate it.
We leave the restaurant right after Drew pays the bill, and we’re all standing under the awning waiting for the valet guy to bring both cars around.
When you go out to dinner now with Drew Callahan, you always go out in style. The guy is a f**king celebrity.
Chelsea makes her escape back inside, claiming she needs to go to the bathroom before we start our long drive, and Fable turns to me, her mouth cast in a stern line, her gaze narrowed as she pulls me aside, away from Drew.
“Be careful driving home,” Fable says, motherly concern lacing her voice. “It’s raining pretty bad and I’m sure the roads are terrible.”
“I’ll be careful, I promise,” I reassure her, pulling her into a quick hug. “Don’t worry.”
“And it’s so late.” She withdraws from me, her mouth pulling into a frown. “Maybe you should stay the night with us.”
That’s a long-ass drive back to San Francisco in this kind of weather. No thanks. “I think Chelsea has class in the morning. I know I do.”
Fable sighs. “I just hate thinking of you out driving for hours in this rain.”
“We’ll be fine, don’t worry. Seriously.” I ruffle her hair, something she used to do to me when I was younger but since I tower over her by about a foot, I’ve got the upper hand now. “I’ll text you when we get home, okay?”
“You’d better. I’ll be lying awake until I hear from you,” she says.
“Please. You’ll be passed out with Autumn cradled in your arms,” I tell her. She’s admitted to me already that when she’s feeding the baby in the middle of the night, they end up asleep in bed together. She’s up all hours of the night taking care of Autumn, though I guess they’ve found more of a schedule. I don’t know. I start glazing over when Fable starts talking endless baby shit.
But I know I don’t want to be the other one who’s keeping her awake.
“You’re probably not too far from the truth.” Fable smiles, her gaze going to Drew when he calls her name. “Our cars are here. We should go.”
Chelsea exits the restaurant at that very moment, heading toward me. Her gaze is dim, her skin pale, but she offers a real smile to Fable when she pulls Chelsea into her arms and gives her a big hug.
“So great meeting you. Keep Owen in line, okay?” Fable says.
Chelsea laughs as Fable releases her. “Great meeting you, too. And I’ll try.”
Drew envelops Chelsea in his arms and when he lets go, she looks a little starstruck. I guess I can’t blame her, but I’m also a little jealous. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen that particular look in her eyes after I touched her.
But I’ve seen other looks. Eyes glazed with lust. Happiness. Affection.
I want to see those looks in her eyes again. I want to kiss her, hold her close. Taste her, touch her, slip my hand inside her jeans, touch her between her legs and show her I know exactly how to make her feel good.
Shit. I’m breaking out in a f**king sweat just thinking about it. Maybe Fable’s right. Maybe we should stay the night, but instead of staying at their house, we should find a hotel. Then I could drag Chelsea into bed and get her na**d. Finally do what I’ve been dying to pretty much since I met her.
I know I’ve been all about taking things slow with her, but I’ve never been patient. I’ve never had to be, not when it comes to girls. I’ve always gotten what I wanted. Who I wanted. When I wanted.
So why do I want this girl when she runs so completely hot and cold? Is it more of a case of wanting what I can’t have? Or do I really like her?
Oh, you like her, asshole. More than you ever want to admit.
“Are you mad at me? Did I do something to offend you?” I finally ask once we’re on the freeway headed home. Traffic is heavy, it’s still raining, and I’ve got both hands on the steering wheel, my gaze locked on the windshield, the glow of red lights indicating that everyone’s hitting their brakes constantly. I don’t want to be distracted, but …
Chelsea’s low, distant mood is totally making me lose focus.
“No, I’m not mad at you.” I flick a quick glance in her direction and she offers me a pitiful little smile. “Not really.”
Not really.
What the hell does she mean by that?
“What did I do?” I ask, my voice grim. “I’m not in the mood to play guessing games, Chels. So just give it to me straight.” I hate games. Mom is a total game player. Most females are … at least, the ones I know. Fable is an exception.
I’d hoped Chelsea was the same. But maybe she’s not …
“It’s stupid.” She waves a hand, smiling at me, but her smile is brittle. Doesn’t light up her eyes and I can tell it’s fake. “I have a headache and it’s been such a long day. A long weekend, really.”
“You had fun, though, right? And you liked my sister? And Drew?” I sound like an insecure little kid wanting to make sure she’s happy, desperate to ensure that she’s pleased. God, does she even realize how easy it would be for her to completely wreck me? I never hand that sort of power over to anyone. Okay, I do so with Fable, but she’s my sister and she would never hurt me. We’ve proven our trust in each other again and again. And Mom’s wrecked me over and over, but I can’t help but hand her that power.
As I’ve come to realize time and again, it’s natural. She’s my mom. I want to please her and she shits on me every chance she gets. Yet I keep taking it.
“Yeah. I had fun.” There is absolutely no emotion in her voice and it scares me. “Except when I found out you told your sister we’re just friends.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Wait a minute. What did you say?”
“You told Fable—I don’t know when—that we were just friends. Is that how you really think of us? Am I just a friend, Owen? Do you always stick your tongue in your friends’ mouths? Or am I a special friend?”
Shit. She’s pissed. She’s practically yelling at me. “I never told Fable that …” My voice trails off.
I so did. When we were on the phone and Fable was giving me shit. I didn’t want to hear it from her anymore so I said it to shut her up. I never thought Fable would ever say anything and I hadn’t meant a word of it. Well, I guess.
Hell. I don’t know. Chelsea confuses me so completely, I don’t know how or what to think anymore.
Not that Chelsea would ever believe that.
“I thought I—meant something to you, but I guess not. Just wishful thinking on my part,” she says, her voice soft and full of sadness. “I’m being ridiculous.”
I chance a glance at her and see how she’s staring out the window, her expression devastated.
My heart aches. Fuck it, I just did that to her. And I don’t know how to explain myself. Not sure I really want to. I mean, what the hell are we doing, Chelsea and I? I like her, but I can’t take this too seriously.
Fuck. I’m a liar. I hardly know Chelsea but I want to know more. So much more, my heart aches in anticipation of it. Yet she gives me such mixed signals, I never know whether she’s coming or going. Whether she really likes me or not, and that freaking kills me. I was just feeling confident, too. So damn confident, I was letting my guard down. Kissing her in front of Fable, for Christ’s sake, and I don’t do that sort of thing ever.
Never, ever, never.
“Chelsea …” I start, but she shakes her head.
“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” she tells me, cutting me off before I can say anything to explain myself. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
She’s completely pulled away from me again and I hate it. I refuse to let this go. I need to make this better between us, before she pulls away from me even further.
More than anything, I need to apologize for being such a thoughtless asshole.
I drive for almost an hour, still not fully out of the city, what with traffic slowing constantly until the freeway is feeling almost like a parking lot. I look at Chelsea and see she’s curled up in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the side of the door, her eyes closed tight, her forehead wrinkled with worry, pain—God, I don’t know what.
Determination fills me. That’s it. We should definitely stay the night. She’ll probably be mad but I’m doing it. So what if we miss class in the morning? It won’t kill us. It might kill her, but shit. I’m tired and she’s not feeling well. I’m irritated and she’s trying to sleep.
Not bothering with waking her up, I take the next exit, where I see a few hotel signs flashing in the night sky, and pull into a hotel parking lot. She stirs in her seat, lifting her head when I park the car beneath the overhang and in front of the hotel entrance. Frowning, she turns to meet my gaze.