Just a Number(37)

Of course, now that I’m in such close proximity, I take in his features. I can see the slightly deepened worry lines in his forehead and the dark circles under his eyes, and I realize that, without a doubt, his weekend was just as bad as mine was. I want to throw myself over the console and into his lap—to kiss away all of his worry and tell him we can make this work—but I know this is neither the time nor the place. Instead, I smile and place my hand over his on the gearshift for a brief moment, out of sight from anyone who might see what’s really going on between us. “Take me home, Owen.”

We’re barely out of the parking lot before he apologizes again. “I shouldn’t have taken you home like that. We should have talked about it. Figured everything out.”

“I know,” I tell him honestly, “but you were freaking out. I understood.” Pausing, I look down at my lap and take a deep breath. “I only wish you’d have called. I thought…” Biting my lower lip, I stop myself, because, while he’s here now, that doesn’t mean he wants to continue whatever it is we had going on.

“You thought what?” Owen inquires softly.

“Well, you left.” There. It’s out there now. Band-aid off; wound exposed. “It felt pretty final. Like you were ending things.” My nerves kick into overdrive, and soon I’m rambling. “I mean, we both knew the risks involved when we started this, and even though it was never supposed to go beyond Thanksgiving, we’d agreed to let things develop naturally. Yes, my dad showing up like that was a shock, and I get that it freaked you out—I was freaked out, too—but I didn’t think you’d give up that easily.”

“Give up?” Owen says, but I’m still too caught up in what I’m trying to say to really hear him as I continue to bulldoze through my thoughts.

“I know we never labeled what we have—had—but I thought things were going well, and then you just le—.” That’s when what he said registers—and more importantly, how he said it. He sounded confused. My throat seizes up as I snap my gaze in his direction. The inflection of his voice repeats in my mind, and I know without a doubt I wasn’t hearing things. Had I totally misinterpreted everything that happened on Friday?

He glances at me briefly before he averts his eyes back to the road. “Amelia, I didn’t give up,” he admits, his voice soft. “I just thought I needed time alone to sort through everything that’s happened.”

“That’s stupid,” I blurt out.

He chuckles, and I find the laugh lines in the outer corners of his eyes oddly comforting. “Yes, well I realize this now. I’m not exactly known for making sound decisions when it comes to my relationships.”

When we pull to a stop, I realize we’ve arrived at my building. Before I can ask him if he wants to come up and talk some more—because I feel we still have a lot to talk about—he unclips his seatbelt and turns to me. “I never meant to hurt you, and if it’s any consolation, I was miserable without you.”

I smile, unclipping my own seatbelt and mirroring his position. “Well, it’s a start,” I tell him, only half-kidding. “Do you…well…want to come up? You know, to talk.”

His smile widens as he nods and turns the car off. “I would love that.”

We walk up the four flights of stairs to my floor, and then wander down the hall. I reach into the pocket of my jeans for my keys, but before I can pull them out, Owen has slid his into the deadbolt and disengaged it, opening the door for me. I don’t know why, exactly, but seeing him slip the keys back into his pocket instead of giving it to me fills me with a small amount of hope. That maybe we’ll be able to figure all of this out.

Once we’re inside, I walk to where my bed is and drop my bookbag to the floor next to my bedside table, and before I turn around, I feel Owen’s arms wrap around my waist. I melt into the warmth of his embrace, my body softening as I relax against him and fold my arms over his.

“I’m sorry.” Not only do I hear the sincerity in his words, but I feel it, moving beneath my skin, tingling. “I thought a lot about what you said—about how as long as we’re happy, he’ll come around—and while I’m not entirely convinced it’s that black and white, I know that I’m willing to try to make him see.”

Turning in his arms, I look up at him, my heart racing. “Really?”

“Really,” he confirms.

My lips curl up into a wide smile and I wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him and sighing contentedly when his lips brush the skin of my neck. He holds me back, lifting me off the ground, and the warmth of his feather-light kisses travel along my neck and over my jaw until his lips find mine enthusiastically.