Just a Number(23)

“Are you looking down on my choice of food?” I tease, and Owen challenges right back.

“Ramen noodles are not food, Amelia. They offer absolutely no nutritional value.”

I shrug. “And yet, I have this bangin’ bod.”

Owen laughs again. “Touché,” he replies, handing me a cup of coffee and then joining me to eat our breakfast. He parks his hand on my thigh and leaves it there for the duration of our meal. It invites a flurry of warmth and fluttery feelings in my belly that makes me smile.

By the time we finish eating, it’s time for me to head downstairs to meet Liz. I grab the spare set of keys for my apartment off my key ring and hand them to Owen. “This one will get you in the main door,” I say, holding the heavier brass-colored key. “And this one will lock up the apartment.”

“Got it,” he says, pocketing the keys and then pulling me into his arms. “Have a good day.”

Winding my arms around his neck, I hum. “How can I not when I know you’re going to be here when I get back?” I press my lips to his before peeling myself from his arms and slinging my bag over my shoulder as I rush down the hall and fly down the stairs to meet Liz outside.

She’s already parked right outside my apartment building, so I run across the sidewalk and slide into the passenger seat. I notice her looking out my window as I buckle up, and I poke her arm. “What are you looking for?” I ask.

“Your booty call! He isn’t going to walk out with you?” she demands, pushing her dark hair back over her shoulders. “Come on! I want to see what he looks like! He sounded hot!”

Rolling my eyes, I turn away from her. “You’re hopeless,” I tell her, but before I can say anything else, I hear her gasp, and it startles me. “Jesus, calm down! What is it now?”

Liz reaches across the car and pushes my hair off my shoulder. “You, Amelia Rose Michaels, have a hickey on your neck.”

My entire face screws up in disbelief and annoyance at having been middle-named by her twice within thirty minutes, and I pull the visor down to open the mirror. “Oh, I do not,” I mumble, but as I turn my neck, I see what she sees: a small bruise-like mark on the apex of my neck. Then I remember his attention on my neck in the shower, and shake my head. “Son of a bitch,” I whisper, trying to keep myself from smiling as I run my fingertips over it. Honestly, it’s no bigger than a dime, but it’s still darker than my pale skin. Thank god I chose to wear my hair down!

Liz giggles beside me, putting her car into drive. “Your booty call gave you a hickey. What is he, fifteen?”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, because he is most definitely not fifteen. “He’s…enthusiastic. I guess we just got a little carried away,” I tell her, but all the while, I’m debating whether or not I should get him back… If I do, it’ll have to be in a place that no one will see, because I’d hate to give Gretchen or anyone else a reason to jump to conclusions.

While Liz drives, I grab my phone and take a picture of my neck so I can send it to Owen with a corresponding message:



What the hell is this?



Only a few seconds go by before my phone vibrates in my hand, and I look down at the screen.



I’d say sorry—because I am—but

honestly, you bring out a part of

me I didn’t know existed anymore



Stifling a giggle, I tap out another response.



Is this part of you a teenager?



I wouldn’t go that far, but you bring

out a younger, much more primal

version of myself…not that I’m

complaining.



To hear that I’ve had this affect on Owen makes me blush. I love that I’ve brought him out of his shell a little more, but I’m also a little pissed that Gretchen had snuffed out who he used to be in all the years they were married.

I type out another quick text, telling Owen I might have to pay him back, and his final response before I arrive at school is:



I look forward to seeing what

your devious little mind comes

up with.



“Okay,” Liz says, putting the car into park. “You need to tell me about this guy. You’ve been smiling like the Cheshire Cat over there the entire ride, and I’d be willing to bet it’s because you’ve been sexting your booty call.”

“You can stop calling him that,” I tell her with a laugh. “And I’m not ready to talk about him. Things are…complicated and new, and we’re not quite ready to go public until we’ve figured everything out.”

“Is it Nolan?” she asks. “He still totally wants you, you know.”