Just a Number(89)
It makes me love her just a little bit more, and I’m so glad to call her my best friend.
We sit there for the first thirty minutes, and I tell her everything, starting with how I came to find him in my bed at my dad’s place, how we’d fooled around a little in our sleep, and how that led to us confessing the hidden fantasies we’d both had about each other. Liz listens, completely enraptured with the story and hanging on my every word, occasionally humming a sigh of contentment—okay maybe it’s a tad on the lusty side, who really knows—or whispering an “oh my god.”
It feels good to tell someone everything. Owen and I have been keeping this secret for so long that I never realized just how heavy it was to bear. Even with Carla and Stephen finding out, and then my dad, I still felt like I was drowning. Now, though? I feel a little relief from the pressure that’s been holding me down. Sure, it’s not completely gone, but I’m holding out hope that everything will be fine once my dad comes around.
I tell Liz about the ball, even gathering my dress off my closet floor to show her. She loves it, and she laughs when I tell her that Owen bought me four pairs of shoes when he couldn’t find the ones I’d forgotten I’d loaned her.
When I get to the part about Dad finding out the way he did, Liz lends a sympathetic ear, listening and assuring me that everything will be fine.
“He’s just pissed that he was kept in the dark,” she tells me. “He’ll come around. You know he will.”
I nod sadly. “Yeah. I know. I just wish he’d talk to one of us and let us explain. He’s got the wrong idea and thinks Owen is taking advantage of me, when I was the one who instigated our first time.”
“Well,” Liz says, “if I had to hazard a guess, he probably doesn’t really think that. He was probably just mad and said it in the heat of the moment. I bet he regrets it. They’ve been friends practically their whole lives…surely he knows Owen well enough to know he’s not some kind of man-whore who goes out seducing girls half his age.”
I appreciate Liz’s logical approach to this, because, while I’m sure I’d have eventually come to this conclusion myself, I’ve been so consumed by guilt that I couldn’t see this clearly. She’s right, though. He knows Owen better than anyone; surely he can’t think that Owen would actually use me—or any young girl, for that matter.
Not wanting to sour Liz’s mood by talking more about my craptastic life right now, I ask her about her vacation. She tells me that she had an absolute blast, even with her parents there. It’s nice to get lost in her happiness, and I find myself coming out of my funk a little more with each passing minute.
Soon, Owen returns, knocking first before opening the door. He’s freshly showered and dressed in a pair of jeans and fitted sweater, while his hair is as purposefully unruly as ever. He looks amazing, only reminding me that I still have yet to change out of my t-shirt and flannel sleep pants.
I walk Liz to the door where she hugs me once more and reminds me that everything will be okay given time. I thank her for listening, and then she leaves, saying goodbye to Owen, who’s standing in the kitchen. She calls him “Mr. Cavanaugh” out of habit, and he just chuckles. Once I close the door after her, I feel his presence behind me, and I turn around. Not only does he look amazing, but he smells amazing.
“So,” he says, running his hands up and down my arms. “You still up for that movie?”
Excited at the prospect of our first date out—even if we’re still dealing with the fallout of coming out to my dad—I nod. “Just let me change and do something with my hair.”
Owen parks himself on the couch, turning the TV on and flipping to ESPN while I put on a pair of jeans and a deep purple, long-sleeved shirt. I grab my knee-high black leather boots and pull them on before disappearing into the bathroom to fix my hair and put on a bit of makeup. My hair isn’t too messy, still holding a bit of my natural curl from my shower the night before, so I finger comb it and add a bit of hair product to tame any flyaway strands, then I proceed with my makeup. When I’m ready, I exit the washroom and come up behind Owen, draping my body over the back of the couch and wrapping my arms around him.
“Ready?” he asks, turning his head and kissing my jawline.
“You bet.” I unwind my arms from him, and he stands up, taking my hand as he leads me to the door. “What movie are we going to see?” I ask, grabbing my jacket and pulling it on.
“Hadn’t really given it much thought. Figured we’d decide on the way.”