Just a Number(24)
Shaking my head, I unbuckle my seatbelt, open my door, and shift to step out. “You’re delusional. Nolan is with Michelle and they’re beyond happy. Besides, things between us never would have worked out.”
“You said he was the best lay you’d ever had,” Liz reminds me, and she’s not wrong—or up until last week she wouldn’t have been wrong. Now, though? Now she’s dead wrong, because Owen has upped the ante in that department.
Liz must see evidence of my thoughts on my face, because her lips curl up into the goofiest smile I’ve ever seen in my life. “Could that devilish glint in your eyes mean that you’ve found, dare I say it, better?” She squeals, drawing the attention of a few students passing by. “Well, now you have to tell me everything!”
“We’re going to be late,” I tell her, getting out of her car and closing the door behind me.
She’s not far behind, locking the doors and speed-walking to catch up. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me who he is, just…how did you meet?”
“We’ve known each other for as long as I can remember,” I tell her honestly, and I hope she ends her line of questioning there. She doesn’t, because, quite frankly, I’m just not that fortunate.
“So, like, you used to play together as kids?”
“Um,” I hum, biting the inside of my cheek. Technically, she’s not wrong. I mean, Owen wasn’t a kid, but he used to indulge me in the occasional board game or play tag with me after nagging him relentlessly. “I suppose you could say that. Look, as much as I want to tell you about him, Liz—and believe me, I do, because I’ve never felt like this before—I need to figure things out with him first. Can you accept that?”
Liz smiles, wrapping an arm around me as we walk. “Of course, bestie. I’m just psyched for you. You seem happy.”
A warm blush fills my face, and I laugh lightly. “I am.”
Truthfully, I would love nothing more than to tell Liz about Owen. She won’t judge me—at least I don’t think she will—but I’m scared that if I speak aloud about what Owen and I have going on that it might somehow get back to my father. And there’s no way he’s going to react well. We need to be extra careful when telling him…should we decide that this is serious enough to do so.
The day seems to drag on forever, and I blame my damn anticipation of seeing Owen again. I try to drown myself in the subject material of each of my classes, but it’s not long before my mind starts to drift back to my apartment, where I imagine Owen is just getting back from doing his laundry.
I try to keep myself from zoning out in the car as Liz drives me back to my place. I do all right, for the most part. I mean, she only has to repeat herself three times in the forty-minute drive through rush hour traffic. I’d chalk that up as a win.
Before I get out of the car, Liz turns to me and smirks. “Is he coming over again? Because if he is, I won’t call you later…you know, give the two of you a little privacy.”
I laugh. “Yes, he’ll be over tonight. I actually don’t know if he left the apartment at all.” I open my door and turn my head in her direction. “I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Definitely.” She nods affirmatively. “Have fun,” she sings after me as I step out onto the sidewalk and wave.
Even though I’m not sure if Owen’s even in my apartment, I race up the four flights of stairs and walk briskly down the hall toward my door. I slip the key into the lock and disengage it, and the smell that greets me makes my mouth water. Owen’s cooking, and it smells like marinara sauce…possibly from scratch.
“Hey,” I say once I step through the door and spot him in the kitchen, standing at the stove and stirring something in a pot. I drop my bookbag by the front door and join him, wrapping my arms around his waist and peeking around him. I was right; he is making a marinara sauce, and in another pot, it looks like he’s cooking some pasta.
“Now I know I didn’t have any of the necessary ingredients to put this meal together…unless those are my ramen noodles in that pot there,” I quip, squeezing his sides in an attempt to tickle him.
He laughs, shaking his head. “They are most definitely not ramen noodles. And I had a bit of free time after doing my laundry, so I figured I’d make a trip to the grocery store and pick up a few things.”
Curious, I remove my body from his and turn to open the fridge. The sight I’m met with shocks the hell out of me: he’s completely stocked my fridge. I’ve got various meats in the freezer—all individually wrapped into portions—and my fridge is stocked with various condiments and produce.