This One’s For You Page 19

  My heart started to pound against my chest. I stopped dancing, frantically looking around me. Frightened and worried, I turned around to face Owen for the first time.

  “I need to find Amelia,” I shouted. Owen nodded, took me by the hand, and led me through the crowd.

  We walked through the kitchen and out into the attached garage. I spotted her across the room, past the crowds gathered to watch beer-pong games, swaying from side to side and spilling her drink.

  I squeezed Owen’s hand tightly, and he must’ve of sensed my unease because he pulled me close to his side. “She’s fine,” he whispered. “A little tipsy, but nothing to worry about.”

  “Are y-you s-sure?” I stuttered, still tightly clutching his hand. He rubbed my shoulder and pressed his lips against the side of my head.

  “I’m sure.”

  I exhaled slowly, thinking back to the sorority party, the one where someone slipped Amelia a date-rape drug. I thought it’d happened again, but the more I watched her, the more I realized she was just tipsy like Owen had said.

  She threw her head back and laughed at something a girl she was talking to had said. She took another drink of whatever was in her cup before handing it to a guy on her left; he said something to her, in which she held her hands up, and shook her head. Good, it seemed like she was telling him that she was done. I relaxed a bit more.

  “Want to play?” Owen asked, nodding toward the tables in front of us.

  “I don’t drink, Owen,” I answered.

  “I figured that,” he replied. “I’ll drink yours for you.”

  I bit down on my lip, contemplating his offer. Beer-pong was fun to play. I wasn’t the greatest at it, but I always had a blast and, in a way, I almost missed it.

  “Let’s play,” I said, not giving things a second thought. “I’ll warn you now, I’m not the best player on the block.”

  He chuckled. “Well, you’re in luck, because I happen to be the master beer-pong player.”

  “Uh-huh,” I teased. “Just like you’re a master donut maker.”

  He let go of me and held up his hands. “Hold on there a sec! If memory serves me correctly, it was you that sent batter across the kitchen.”

  “It was your fault!” I exclaimed.

  I folded my arms across my chest, and he laughed, pulling me back into his arms. I tensed for a moment before slipping my arms around him.

  “Hey, Owen!” a guy shouted to him. Owen pulled back slightly but kept his arms around me. “You gonna play or what?”

  He looked down at me. I nodded slightly, and he took my hand. “Yeah,” he called, “we’re in.”

  Stepping up to the table, I looked at the guy who’d called to Owen. He was stocky and looked like he hadn’t brushed his hair in weeks. Owen leaned over and told me his name was Bubba. I watched as Bubba arranged the cups on his end of the table while Owen set ours up.

  “You two can go first.” Owen handed me two ping-pong balls and nodded for me to go first. I tried my best, but I missed both attempts. “Owen, tell your girl that the point of this game is to make the balls into the cup,” Bubba taunted.

  Owen glanced at me, and I shrugged my shoulders. He smiled softly before taking his shots, sinking both of them.

  It took me a few attempts to get back into the games groove, but once I did, I made most of my shots. We played game after game, my aim improving with each one. And for once, Owen was right—he really was a master of the game. Luckily for him, he also didn’t have to drink as much as I thought he was going to.

  Between each turn, Owen would wrap his arms around me and help me taunt our opponents. After the sixth game, the opposite team finally called it quits. We had decided to take a break as well.

  “I suppose you weren’t terrible,” I teased Owen.

  “Oh yeah,” he said in a husky voice, pulling me toward him. “Well, you go down as the worst player in history.”

  “Hmmm,” I said, shaking my head. “No, I think Bubba holds that titled.”

  Owen laughed, and pressed his lips to my forehead.

  “Well, well,” an annoying voice sounded in my ear. I turned to see who it belonged to, and just as I’d expected, there stood Felicity. “Aren’t you two just adorable?”

  “Felicity,” Owen clipped. “What do you want?”

  Somehow she managed to push me to the side and press up against him. I clenched my teeth, and fought down the urge to yank her back by her bottle-blonde hair. I watched as she traced her finger along her chest.

  “You know what I want,” she purred. She looked over and locked her eyes onto mine. “I want a repeat of last night.”

  “Felicity,” he warned. “I’m not gonna say this twice. You need to go.”

  “That’s not what you said last night,” she said, pushing her hands up his shirt. Owen grabbed her by the wrists and pushed her away. I swear she hissed at him for that. “Why don’t you ask where lover boy was last night?”

  “Owen?” I said, looking to him.

  His face dropped, and he looked away. I didn’t need for him to say anything for me to understand what she was talking about. I turned on my heels and stormed out of the garage.

  I forced my way through the chaos in the living room and out the front door. I walked as fast as I could, clutching my fists at my side. I should’ve known better. I shook involuntarily as the anger pulsated throughout my body.

  “Brennan!” I heard both Owen and Amelia shout for me at the same time.

  I kept walking, ignoring the both of them. I heard Amelia’s heels clicking against the concrete as she tried to catch up to me, and then I heard something hit the ground.

  “Ow!” Amelia shouted. I turned to see that she’d tripped over herself.

  I ran over to where she’d fallen and bent down next to her. Rubbing her back, I took one of her hands into my other hand and squeezed. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said, standing up with my help.

  “Brennan!” Owen said, finally catching up to us.

  “Save it,” I snapped at him. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”

  “If you’d just let me explain,” he pleaded.

  Amelia looked between us. Her eyebrows knitted, and her lips pursed. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Owen over there,” I said, jutting my thumb toward him, “had a little rendezvous with Malibu Barbie last night.”

  “What!” Amelia shouted, and she shot Owen a look, one that said she’d kill him if she had the chance. “Do you even have a brain?” she asked him.

  “Brennan and I aren’t together—” he started.

  “And that makes it okay?” She cut him off.

  “She hasn’t even talked to me in over a week.”

  “My God, you don’t have a brain!” Amelia exclaimed. “You haven’t figured it out by now, have you? Brennan is crazy about you! But—and we’ve already talked about this—she has a hard time letting people in. All you had to do was have a little bit of patience and not jump into bed with the first willing bimbo—and certainly not that Barbie wannabe.”

  The two of them were talking about me like I wasn’t even there. What the hell is going on? I thought. And since when do Amelia and Owen talk about me when I’m not around?

  “I wasn’t thinking!” he retorted.

  “Oh, you were thinking all right,” Amelia scoffed. “Just not with the right head.”

  “Hello!” I said, waving my hand in the air. “You do know I am standing right here.”

  Both of them stopped bantering and looked at me. Owen took a step toward me, and I shrank back, shaking my head, and he dropped his gaze to the ground.

  “Brennan,” Amelia said. “Now before I say this, I want you to know I’m on your side.” She paused, and I nodded for her to go on. “But in all fairness, he’s right, you know? The two of you aren’t together. You can’t be mad at him.”

  I hadn’t expected Amelia to say that, and I started laughing hystericall
y. Both of them stared at me like I was crazy, and it took more than a minute before I calmed down. “I’m not mad,” I said finally. “Owen can do whatever Owen wants. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Brenn . . .” Amelia whispered.

  “No, you’re both right. We aren’t together, and we’ve never been together . . .” I looked at Owen, locking my eyes on his. “And we’ll never be together. So go ahead, do whatever you want. Just stay the hell away from me.”

  “Brennan,” he said softly.

  I held my hand up to him. “I meant it when I said I was done the last time, Owen. Tonight—” I said, pausing, “tonight was a mistake. It won’t ever happen again.”

  I walked off before anyone could say anything else. What started off as a perfectly good night got ruined because I let Owen sucker me back into his arms.

  I knew I had no right to be mad, and even then, I really wasn’t mad at Owen—but I was disappointed. I had no right to expect him not to go on with his life. After all, I’m the one that pushed him away, but I was hoping he wouldn’t give up so easy. I was a piece of work, I knew that, and I wasn’t about to pretend that I didn’t know it because I knew it more than I knew anything else about myself.

  I walked all the way back home alone, surprised that Amelia wasn’t following me. I suspected she’d hung back to talk with Owen, for whatever reason. I didn’t really care. At the moment, I was a little disappointed with her too.

  She talked to him about me? I thought. And behind my back no less! Who knew all what she’d said, but she had told him that I had a hard time letting people in. Not that that was much of a surprise, because it wasn’t. It was the fact that she had said anything at all. Did the three of them—Callen included—spend a lot of time talking about me when I wasn’t around?

  The thought upset me more than anything else.

  I stripped out of the dress and tossed it onto Amelia’s bed. It was childish, but hopefully she’d figure out I was upset with her. I slipped on a pair of sweats, a T-shirt, and then collapsed on top of my bed. When Amelia finally came back to our room, I pretended to be asleep

  I cracked open my eyes as she picked up the dress off her bed. She sighed and hung the dress up. I squeezed my eyes shut as she made her way back to her bed.

  She climbed under her covers and turned off her lamp. I opened my eyes again and could see her lying there in the moonlight. She tossed and turned on the mattress for a few minutes until something on her desk started glowing and a loud vibrating noise filled the room. I watched as she grabbed her phone and brought it to her ear.

  “What, Owen?” she answered, sounding drained. I heard snippets of his voice, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. “No, she’s asleep right now.”

  He spoke again.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said to him. “No, just leave it alone. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. Everything will all work itself out. You just have to have a little faith.”

  My chest tightened as I listened to the one-sided conversation.

  “She’s leaving in a week to go home for Christmas. Wait until after the break to try and talk to her.”

  Like that’s going to happen, I thought. I had no interest in hearing what he had to say.

  “I know that’s a long time, Owen,” Amelia said. “But the two of you need some space. So take some time, do some thinking, and deal with it when you get back.”

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Please tell me that isn’t you,” she grumbled. “Go to your room.”

  I assumed it was him.

  “You’re just going to have to deal with it, Owen.” Amelia sighed. “I know how you feel about her.” He spoke again. “Right now she needs space,” Amelia continued, “so just give it to her, damn it. If you don’t, you might lose her for good.” She paused again. “I know it’s hard. Now get some sleep. Please.”

  Amelia hung up the phone without saying anything else. I reached up for my locket and held it tight, smiling to myself. Amelia had gone to bat for me. She didn’t have to, but she did. She knew exactly what I needed—space. Yet, what she didn’t know was that no matter how much space Owen gave me, I didn’t think any of it was going to be enough. I wasn’t sure if I could keep up with this charade.

  Amelia was right about another thing, too—I’d spend a lot of time thinking long and hard over the break. I needed to figure out what I was going to say to Owen when I got back; I needed to figure out where we were going to go from here, because there was no way I could go back to the way things were. The whole hot-and-cold nonsense, on both our accounts, was done. That shit was finished.

  ***

  The next couple of days dragged past as Amelia and I spent most of our time lounging around the room. Neither of us brought up Owen, and she never brought up their late-night phone call, but those things didn’t keep me from thinking about him.

  I watched in silence as Amelia stuffed the last piece of luggage with as much as she could. Laughing, she sat down on the top of it, fighting to get the zipper closed.

  “I wish you weren’t leaving today,” I said.

  She huffed as she tugged on the zipper one last time. “I know, but you’ll be leaving tomorrow. So you’ll be fine.”

  “I’m going to miss you,” I admitted.

  “And that’s why we’re going to Skype every single day,” she said. “I might end up in jail if I don’t have someone to talk me out of beating my mom with a frying pan.” She laughed. “Then again, I don’t even know if we have a frying pan. Note to self: check cupboards for heavy pan.”

  I shook my head, giggling.

  She got up and placed her suitcase with the other three she’d packed. The amount of stuff she was taking with her was completely ridiculous, but then again, Amelia always seemed to do things in excess.

  I picked at the small little lint balls that plagued my fleece pajama bottoms. Her ride to the airport was almost here, and I was not ready to be left alone. I wondered if I could change my bus ticket’s leave date to today.

  “Promise me one thing, Brennan,” Amelia said, pulling me from my thoughts. I nodded slightly. “Think about some things over the break.”

  Here it comes . . . I thought.

  “And by ‘things,’” I replied, “you mean Owen, right?”

  She nodded. I sighed. “Just promise me you will,” she said. “I know he fucked up when he fooled around with Felicity, but you can’t hold that against him either. I’ve seen the way you two have looked at each other across the room. That’s some serious magic, girl, and I just don’t want you to give up something so powerful before you have a chance to see where it might lead.”

  I didn’t respond. She pulled me into her arms and squeezed me tightly. After a moment, she released me and went to her suitcases. I stood up, grabbed two of them, and we started making our way downstairs.

  We headed outside and waited for her ride. We hugged one last time as a sleek black town car pulled alongside us.

  “I’ll call as soon as I land,” she said.

  “And I’ll call as soon as my bus arrives at the station,” I replied.

  We didn’t say good-bye; we decided not to because we’d be seeing each other soon. And good-bye just seemed like forever.

  I watched as the car pulled away from the curb and disappeared down the street.

  I headed back to my room and finished packing my lone duffle bag. By the time I was done, it was late, and I needed to get sleep. I had to catch the bus at eleven and needed to be there early to check in. It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep, but I tossed and turned all night, not getting any rest. I couldn’t stop thinking about the pesky guy across the hall. I even got up and walked across the hall several times, stopping just before knocking on his door. It would’ve been pointless anyway—like everyone, he’d already gone home for Christmas.

  I was already awake when the morning’s bright sun filled my room. I laid there for a whi
le, soaking in the warm rays, before finally climbing out of bed and changing into a pair of leggings, a flannel shirt, and a pair of flip-flops. I grabbed a jacket from my closet to have just in case, and before too long, I was ready to head to the bus station.

  I’d checked and double-checked the Eugene bus schedules the night before, and I had about twenty minutes before I needed to walk to the nearest bus stop. After I made sure I had everything I needed, I was ready to leave and stepped out of my room.

  Stopping to the lock the door behind me, I set my bag down and pulled the keys out of my purse. Just as I’d turned the lock, I heard the sound of Owen’s door opening behind me. I sucked in a deep breath. He’s not supposed to be here, I thought. He’s supposed to be gone.

  “Brennan.”

  I didn’t want to look at him. I didn’t even want to speak to him. And yet, I couldn’t pretend he wasn’t there, could I? I bit my lower lip as I debated what to do, but there was only one thing I could do—I had to face him. “Hey, Owen,” I said, turning around.

  “You heading home for the holidays?” he asked, eyeing my suitcase.

  “Yup,” I answered simply. “I thought you went to San Diego.”

  He sighed and ran a hand through his golden locks. “No, just hanging out at campus this year.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Who else am I going to be with?” he replied. “Celebrating the holidays solo this year.”

  “B-but . . .” I stuttered, suddenly perplexed. I couldn’t believe he was staying at the dorms. “Why aren’t you going home? And if you’re not going home, why aren’t you staying with your extended family here in Eugene?”

  He glanced away for a moment before bringing his green eyes back to meet mine. “Rule number three,” he whispered.

  I felt my heart break a little. No one should be alone during the holidays, and especially not on Christmas. I wanted to press further and find out why he wasn’t going home. Was there something terrible that kept him from going? Missing Thanksgiving was one thing, but Christmas . . . I didn’t understand.

  I wanted to ask more about it, but I kept my mouth shut. Owen had pulled out that stupid rule again—No personal questions, except basic ones. What was so personal that he wouldn’t go home to be with his family?