Hating you, p.16
Hating You, page 16
18
Saylor
“Hey, where are you going?” Skye asks. Her feet are propped up on the coffee table as the television glows with the Netflix home screen.
“Just…out. Maybe to a movie or something. I dunno. I’m getting a little stir crazy,” I ramble. “Wanna come?” I add as I take in the hair piled on top of her head and yesterday’s tanktop peeking up from above the couch.
She glances over her shoulder, then rolls her eyes. “Gee. Thanks for the heads up.”
“Sorry––”
“Don’t worry about it. Go have fun. I’ll just…be here. As always.”
My stomach tightens with guilt as I grab my keys before rocking back on my heels to face her again. “You sure, Skye? I’m here if you need me––”
“I know, I know. It’s fine. Go have fun getting out and having a night on the town. Maybe fate will intervene, and you’ll even run into a certain someone.”
“Mm-hmm,” I hum. “See ya.”
With a quick wave, I step into the hallway, close the door, then drive to Owen’s house. Because we’re going on a date. Like an actual couple. And I was too nervous to tell my own sister about it.
Gah! I’m the worst.
Squeezing the steering wheel a little tighter, I pull into Owen’s driveway before bundling my coat a bit closer to me. Then I walk to the front door and tap my knuckles against the cold surface.
When it opens, I’m gifted with a mouth-watering model in a grey button-up shirt. The sight is served up with a side of déjà vu as I take in his boyish grin that’s on full display.
“Hey,” Owen greets me.
With my arms crossed over my chest, I return, “Hi.”
“Did you make it here okay? I wish you would’ve let me pick you up––”
“But then I would’ve had to tell Skye about our little….” I wave my finger between us, feeling absolutely ridiculous that I can't even say the four-letter word that starts with D and ends with -ate.
“Date?” he offers innocently.
“Yeah. That.”
He laughs. “Speaking of which, I have two dates planned. One includes an outdoor activity, and the other would still require us to leave the house but would be indoors. Do you have a preference, or do you want me to decide?”
“You planned two dates?”
That same boyish grin turns sheepish as he shrugs one shoulder and tells me, “Yeah. I wanted to be ready for all possibilities in case the weather was too bad for date number one.”
“Hmm.” I tap my finger against my chin, mulling over the options before asking, “I don’t suppose you’d tell me what each date is so I can make a proper decision, would you?”
“Nope. They’re both surprises. So, all you have to answer is in or out?”
“Um….” I drop my hands to my sides and twist my torso from side to side as if to test the temperature comfort of my thermals. “In.”
He smirks. “Good choice. Do you want to take my car or yours since it’s already warm? I’m good either way.”
“We can take mine, but you’re driving.” I toss him the keys, and he catches them before grabbing his coat and stepping onto the front porch. With a twist of his wrist, he locks the front door, and I turn toward my car when his hand grabs my arm to stop me.
“Wait.”
“What is it?” I ask, turning to face him again.
“I forgot something.” Leaning closer, he presses a soft, sweet, close-mouthed kiss to my lips, leaving me a melting puddle on the concrete as he pulls away and murmurs, “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I breathe.
Satisfied, he tangles our fingers together, then guides me to my car and opens the passenger side before rounding the front and slipping behind the steering wheel.
Like an old couple, we bicker over music as he drives us to an undisclosed location while I toss out possibilities like they’re candy on Halloween night.
“The movies?” I offer.
“Nope.”
“The drive-in?”
“That’s a movie. And no.”
“Charlie Chows?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“Betty’s Diner?”
“Stop guessing!”
“I knew it!” I reply with a grin while shamelessly checking him out. If it weren’t awkward as hell, I’d snap a picture with my cell phone for safekeeping. Honestly, I might not be able to control myself if he keeps giving me the side smirk that showcases his strong jaw and dimpled cheek. The combination is like my dreams on steroids, and I have to stop myself from leaning forward to kiss the slight stubble that clings to his chin.
“What are you looking at?” he demands, his gaze narrowing in suspicion.
I bat my lashes back at him. “Nothing.”
“Liar.” His grin widens. “You’re wrong, by the way.”
“About what?”
“It’s not Betty’s.”
“Then, what is it?”
“You’ll see.”
“You’re killin’ me, Smalls,” I tell him.
“You’ve been killin’ me for years and have yet to put me out of my misery, so consider this payback.”
“Excuse me?” I clutch at my chest as though I’m offended. “What did I ever do to you?”
“You put up those pictures on the Birds and Bees app. The white bikini, Say? Were you trying to kill all those poor bastards on there?”
With a shrug, I answer, “Skye set it up for me.”
“Of course, she did,” he mutters under his breath. “Remind me to smack her when I see her, yeah?”
“Nope. No deal. Not after perusing your profile, mister. It’s not like you have room to talk,” I quip.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The rock climbing pictures? While shirtless?” I fan my face. “Day-um, Owen.”
He throws his head back and laughs even harder. “But you only saw those a few months ago. I’ve been lusting for years.”
“Ahem, if we’re going to play that game, then I’m gonna win. Do you actually think I missed watching any of your stupid football games?” I cross my arms and get cozy in the passenger seat, daring him to argue.
His smile softens as his gaze darts over to mine. “You really watched them?”
“Every single one.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a glutton for punishment,” I reply, snarkily.
With the gentlest of touches, he sets his hand on my thigh, then squeezes. “That honestly means a lot to me, Say. I know that sounds dumb, but it really does. I always played my best when you were in the stands. And after I left…I didn’t know who to play for anymore.”
“Liar,” I tease in an attempt to lighten the mood, though it’s laced with an undertone of bitterness that I pray he doesn’t hear.
The heat from his hand brands me as he rubs his thumb back and forth along my thigh. “I’m serious, Say.”
“I know you, remember?” I rasp, the earlier playfulness that started this conversation vanishing into thin air. “You played for yourself, and like I said, that’s okay. But don’t try to fool yourself into believing that you played for me. If that were true, you wouldn’t have left or broken my heart in the first place.”
“Did you know I wanted to quit?”
I jerk back, convinced I’ve heard him wrong. “What?”
“Yeah. I wanted to quit before I left for college because the idea of leaving you was unbearable.”
“I wouldn’t have let you––”
“I know. But I wanted to. More than you can imagine.”
Mind spinning, I force myself to stay in the present instead of getting lost in the what if’s that threaten to swallow me whole.
“W-why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper.
“Like you said, you wouldn’t have let me, anyway. And when I mentioned the idea to someone else, he shut it down. Fast. Told me that I was too young to throw away my future for a girl.”
“Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he returns, flicking on the blinker before turning down an unplowed road.
“Tell me,” I plead.
Lifting his chin toward a simple gray building up the road, he says, “We’re here.”
“Owen….”
“You still an expert at Star Wars trivia?” he asks, piquing my curiosity enough to drop the current subject. And besides, I want to enjoy tonight. And this conversation is only weighing me down.
With a scowl, I grab the door handle, then turn back to him, and mutter, “I see whatcha did there. And yes. I may or may not have an addiction to the movies, and I may or may not have been watching them every Friday night in sync with Grady and Turner.”
“And me,” Owen adds, smirking back at me. “‘Cause I was there too.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t doing it to be with you in spirit because you were still on my shit-list at the time. Grady and Turner, however….”
Amused, he grabs the collar of my jacket, tugging me closer to the center console. Then he pastes a hard, goofy kiss against my mouth. “Am I still on your shit-list?”
“Depends. Why did you ask if I’m still an expert in Star Wars trivia?”
“Because there’s a trivia tournament inside that building with a bunch of people who are just as hyped up on Obi-Wan Kenobi as you are.”
“He’s mine––”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You made it clear that if we ever want to have a relationship, you get a free hall pass for the guy––”
“Damn straight,” I interrupt. “But only the Ewan McGregor version. And don’t you dare think about talking me out of it.”
Chuckling, Owen brings my hand to his lips and gives me a softer, more gentle kiss than before. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Then he tilts his head toward the gray building that looms a few feet away from us. “Come on, Say. Let’s go get our nerd on.”
19
Saylor
This place is legit. I feel like I’m at a Comic-Con dedicated solely to Star Wars nerds and have never felt more at home in my entire life. Square tables are scattered around the giant room. Each one has four chairs tucked beneath them, along with mini-whiteboards the size of a standard piece of paper placed in the center and a black dry erase marker to match.
At the entrance, they handed each of us a badge and a table number, then directed us to the bar in the back corner with themed beverages. My grin widens as I scan the menu.
“Darth Mauled Pomegranate Cider?” I read aloud.
“How ‘bout the Qui-Gon Jinn and Tonic?” Owen counters with a smirk.
I cover my mouth to muffle my laughter before I drop my voice low and ask Owen, “How did you find this place?”
“You’d be surprised what a guy can find when he’s determined to impress a girl.” His eyebrows bounce up and down. “Is it working?”
Rising onto my tiptoes, I brush my lips against his cheek. “Maybe.”
“Hey, what can I get you guys?” the bartender interrupts.
“Oh. I’ll have a Death Star, please,” I tell him, my cheeks heating that he totally caught me getting cozy with the hottest guy in the room.
“And you?” the bartender asks Owen.
With another quick glance at the menu, Owen rattles off his order. “I’ll have a Hot Tauntaun. Thanks.”
“Coming right up.”
Owen sets a few bills on the counter. Then we grab our drinks and head to our designated table.
“You sure it was a good idea to decline teaming up with another couple?” Owen asks as he pulls out my chair.
Once seated, I look up at him. “Do you doubt me, young Padawan?”
“Of course not, Master,” he quips before taking the chair next to mine.
With a grin, I twirl the straw in my giant margarita. “By the way, this drink is delicious.”
He takes a sip of his, then nods his agreement as the host’s voice crackles over the speaker system.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Wookies and Wampas, please take a seat, and we’ll get started.” He pauses and looks around the room, waiting for a few of the stragglers to find their tables. Once they do, he continues. “The rules are simple. I will ask a question, then my girlfriend in the back, who’s dressed like Princess Leia, will start the timer. You’ll have thirty seconds to discuss potential answers before writing your final guess on the whiteboard. When the buzzer goes off, you’ll raise the whiteboard in the air, and the judges will walk around to confirm who’s correct and who needs to spend a little more time studying The Force.”
Laughter ensues, and the host waits for it to quiet down for a few seconds before he dives right back into the rules. “If you write the incorrect answer, the judges will collect your whiteboard, but you’re welcome to stay and cheer on your fellow Padawans. The questions will get progressively more difficult as the game goes on, and the winner will be promoted to Jedi and will have bragging rights until the next trivia night. Any questions?”
A few people raise their hands, and the host answers their questions before scanning the room a final time.
“Alright. Let’s begin. What color is Mace Windu’s lightsaber?”
Owen grabs the marker and writes the answer without any prodding. When the buzzer goes off, we raise it into the air.
Clearing his throat, the host announces, “The correct answer is purple.”
“Nailed it,” Owen whispers with a confidence that’s sexy as hell, especially when it involves one of my nerdiest passions.
“Next question. Who kissed Leia first, Han or Luke?”
Duh.
I steal the marker from Owen’s grasp and write Luke.
Thirty seconds later, and bam––I’m correct.
Back and forth, Owen and I pass the marker, laughing and drinking and soaking up each other’s company with an ease that should be terrifying, yet somehow feels like home.
And with each and every question, the participants are whittled down to only a handful.
“Alright, everyone,” the host calls out. “Next question. How many languages is C-3PO fluent in?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and search my memory. “Crap,” I murmur. “I can’t remember if it’s five or six million.”
“Six,” Owen returns, keeping his voice quiet to prevent anyone else from hearing his guess.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
Cringing, I hand him the marker and watch him scrawl the potential answer along the whiteboard.
“I hope you’re right,” I mutter.
“I am.”
My leg bounces beneath the high-top table. “How can you be so sure?”
“I may have been studying,” he returns, his grin sheepish.
I open my mouth to interrogate him further, but the buzzer goes off before I have the chance.
“The correct answer is over six million,” the host reveals, his head bobbing up and down as his gaze bounces from one whiteboard to the next. “That was a tough one. We only have two Padawan teams left, and the next question is a doozy. Which character is named after George Lucas’ son? And what species is he?”
“Dexter Jettster,” I whisper before grabbing the Expo marker from Owen’s grasp.
“A Besalisk,” he adds, nudging me to write it on the board.
My gaze darts over to the final opposing team to see them quietly arguing over possibilities as the timer slowly ticks down to zero.
“Time’s up!” the host’s voice echoes through the speakers. “Remember, this is a two-part question. If you both only get one answer correct, we’ll move onto the next round, but if one of you is able to answer both questions correctly, we’ll be able to announce a winner. Raise your whiteboards, and let’s see what you were able to come up with.”
The crowd goes wild as their attention shifts from one board to the other before cheers erupt.
“And it looks like we have a winner!” With a nod directed at us, he adds, “Come on up, you two.”
As Owen and I slide out of our chairs, he tangles our fingers together. Then we walk up to the host. In one hand, he’s holding a microphone, and in the other, there’s a small plastic trophy that looks like the ones coaches hand out at kids’ soccer tournaments. This one, however, has a sticker of Baby Yoda with a green lightsaber and the words, “Do or do not, there is no try.”
I snort as I read the inscription and show it to Owen.
“Aw, aren’t you two a cute couple,” the host gushes. “Anyone else getting some major Leia and Han vibes over here?”
Hoots and hollers erupt, but I roll my eyes.
“Alright, Jedis. Anything you’d like to say to the young Padawans here?” The host motions to the crowd.
I laugh and shake my head before Owen takes the offered microphone and says, “May the Force be with you.”
More cheering ensues.
The host takes the microphone back and replies, “I’m sure it will be. Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone. We had a blast, as always, and we can’t wait to do this again in the future. Don’t forget to follow us on Facebook for updates on locations, trivia questions…you get the idea. Drive safely, and like our Jedi friend mentioned a moment ago, May the Force be with you.”
The trophy dangles from Owen’s grasp as we walk back through the parking lot to my car. It’s dark and cold but kind of peaceful too. Quiet somehow. Like my mind just got a good workout and isn’t running a thousand miles an hour, and my nerves have decided to take a backseat to the moment, too, allowing me to just…be here. With Owen.
It’s refreshing.
“So, did you have fun?” he murmurs, his hand on my lower back as we slowly eat up the distance between us and the car.
I nod. “I had a blast. You kind of knocked it out of the park, Owen.”
“Then, I guess I succeeded.”
“Definitely. Did you really study for this, though?”
He laughs, and the sound makes my gut tighten. “Will you judge me if I say yes?”
“You did?” I prod, my voice laced with disbelief.
With a soft click, he unlocks the doors, then guides me to the passenger side and opens mine. “Yeah. I really did.”
