Just a Number(16)

9. Curiosity



The three-hour drive back is quiet—regardless of how often Liz tries to get me to talk about my weekend. She’s my best friend, and I would give anything to tell her about Owen, but I promised him I wouldn’t tell a soul. When she asks what’s up, I feed her some line about not feeling well, and she immediately drops the subject.

“Do you want me to come up and stay with you for a bit?” she asks as she parks in front of my building. “I could make you some chicken soup.”

Smiling, I shake my head. “Thanks, but I think I’ll unpack and crash in front of the TV.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

I say goodnight to Liz, grab my things from the backseat of her car, and head inside. As I climb the stairs to the fourth floor, I can’t help but think of my time with Owen. I know I told him that it would just be a one-time thing, but I’m not so sure that’s what I want now. I thought it was when I suggested it, but now? Sleeping with him only made me want to explore things between us further.

Which is why I had to walk away.

After locking my door, I wander through my studio apartment and toss my dirty clothes in my hamper before dropping the duffle bag in my closet where it belongs. The entire time I wander around my lonely apartment, I think about Owen. I know I told him that it would just be a one-time thing—a fling—but the truth was, being with him made me realize that might be harder than I’d anticipated. I tried to convince myself that it was simply because it was the best sex I’d ever had, but I know that’s not true.

There is something between us. I know it. He knows it. Neither of us can openly admit too much, though, because it would all be too complicated. Besides, my dad would flip his shit. I’d like to believe he’s all enlightened, but there’s no way he would understand. I know this, deep down.

My stomach rumbles, so I head the twenty feet to my kitchen and look through the cupboards and fridge for something to eat. Finding nothing, I decide to head out and grab some take-out from the restaurant on the corner.

The sight that greets me as I pull open the door surprises me, and I wonder if I’m dreaming, because there’s no way this is real…

“Owen?” I ask in disbelief.

He smiles and holds up a large brown paper bag. “So, I was sort of in the neighborhood and figured you probably hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so I got dinner for two and came right over.”

“H-how did you get my address?” I stammer.

“Your dad’s address book.” He pauses, furrowing his brow nervously. “That’s not creepy, is it?”

I laugh. “Maybe a little, but I think I can overlook it.” I take the food from him and nod him inside as I turn toward the kitchen and set it down. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what exactly are you doing here?”

“Honestly?” I nod, drawing my bottom lip between my teeth nervously. “Watching you walk away was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” He pauses, pulling me into his arms, and my breath shudders. “I know I’m not exactly in the best situation right now with my separation, but I need you to know that I’ve never felt this way before.”

“It’s probably just my youth,” I quip, making Owen laugh. “It makes you feel young again.”

“Regardless, I couldn’t just give it up.” He pushes my hair away from my face, his fingers lingering below my ear and making me swoon. “I’d like to explore whatever this is.”

Even though I’m sure that now is not the time, I have to ask. “And what about my dad? If he finds out…”

Owen shakes his head and smiles warmly. “Why don’t we worry about that when the time comes? Let’s just enjoy right now.”

I nod, and not another word is spoken between us as he lowers his lips to mine, carries me to my bed—our food forgotten for the moment—and makes love to me for the next two hours.

Yes, while there were several reasons that this was never meant to work, there are so many more that prove it can.





10. Wrong Feels So Right



What the fuck are you thinking?

It’s a question I’d been asking myself with every mile I put on my car racing for the city.

Chasing after Amelia.

She stirs in my arms, the light from the streetlamps outside pouring through her apartment window and over us both. Even though it’s almost midnight, I’ve been unable to sleep. Perhaps my adrenaline is running high after having more sex in these last few hours than I’d had in the last six months of my marriage.

Amelia moans softly, exhaling a soft breath over my chest, and I smile. She looks so peaceful. So innocent.