Wild Reckless (Harper Boys #1)(86)

I shake my head and roll my eyes. But I also stand still, letting my back slump against the wall around the corner, letting my breath leave my chest in one long exhale, some of my confidence slipping away with it. Their laughter…it still feels bad. I can convince myself of a lot of things, but I think we all want people to like us—like us, or let us be invisible. Right now, I think I’d be happy to have left that room unnoticed.

The bell rings seconds later. I pull my backpack over my body and make my way to class, blending quickly with the backpacks, hats and chatter, shedding everything that made me feel as if I stood out—not in a good way—seconds ago. I step into our English class where Owen’s feet are on my chair—waiting for me. My mouth can’t help but smile seeing them there. As quiet as he’s been, these small gestures are still there. I’m grateful for them.

They let me breathe again.

“Missed you this morning,” I say as I slide into my seat, my hip cozying up next to his ankles, my body wanting any kind of touch. Owen’s eyes stay on me as he leans forward, sliding the hood from his head. His feet finally fall to the floor.

He tilts his desk as he leans far enough forward for his lips to reach me, but he passes my mouth, moving right for my neck. “I like your hair,” he says, his eyes a little hazy. His hot breath on my neck sends shivers down my arms and back.

“Thanks,” I say. “Willow did it. It’s for the dance.”

He pulls away, but keeps his eyes fixed on me, on my bare neck.

“I’m visiting my grandpa after school,” he says. “Wanna come? I’ll bring you back before the game.”

“I’d love to,” I say, my heart thumping so heavy with hope. This is the first time Owen’s done something different from the routine of his house, from checking on James, from being short with me. It’s the first time in a week he’s initiated the conversation, and it’s made me feel happy enough to cry. I’m not sure why, but the sensation almost chokes me, suffocating my lungs quickly. I think it’s because I’ve been afraid of losing him.

I’m saved by Mr. Chessman’s entrance, and I turn to face the front, keeping my head down until the swell of emotion leaves my chest and I’m able not to act so desperate for his attention.

Owen’s quiet for the rest of the day, holding my hand briefly in the hallway—sitting at our table for only part of the lunch period, kissing my cheek and telling me he’ll see me after school before joining House outside. For a minute, I think I see him taking a drag from House’s cigarette, but I can’t tell for sure.

He skips science, and I notice the teacher put a packet to the side for him, his name scribbled on a sticky note slapped to the first page. It looks like notes for everything we’ve covered. This happens a lot. I wonder who delivers these to him, how his work gets done.

I’m already half expecting his truck to be gone when I walk out at the end of the day, so I move toward Willow’s car, meeting up with her in the parking lot. “So what’s the plan, chicka? Dinner with me, then the game tonight?” she asks, Jess coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her body, pulling her close. Everything about them is so easy. I hate them for it right now.

“Uh, I don’t know…I was gonna go with Owen somewhere, but…” I stand on my toes, looking around, but I don’t see his truck anywhere. I pull my phone from my pocket, hoping there’s a message. But there’s nothing. “I don’t see him, so he must have gotten busy.”

I say these words, but what my gut feels is that he forgot. It hurts, but I can’t get mad, because I’ve seen what life is like inside his house.

I follow Willow and Jess to Willow’s car, and we all climb inside, me taking the small seat in the back. I pull my phone to my hand and watch the screen, waiting for a message from Owen, for anything.

“Burgers?” she says over her shoulder.

“Yeah…that’s fine,” I say, not hungry in the least. We head to Joe’s Burgers, and as we pull into the parking lot, I swipe my screen and open a message to Owen. I want him to know where I am.

I probably want him to feel badly about it, too. It’s selfish.

You weren’t here, so I left with Willow. We’re grabbing dinner.

I keep the phone clutched in my hand, waiting for it to buzz, and the instant I feel it, I step up out of the line for food.

“It’s Owen. I’m not that hungry, so I’ll wait for you guys out in the car,” I say to Willow, her eyes focusing on me harshly for a few seconds before finally giving me her keys.

“I know. I’m not being careful,” I roll my eyes. Willow knows a little about what happened with James, but I would never be able to give her the full picture. You can’t understand unless you live through something like that—see it for yourself. I start reading Owen’s message before I get to the car.

Shit, so sorry. Time got away from me. I came home to check on James. Mom had an appointment. Can I come get you? Where are you?

I text him back quickly.

I’m at Joe’s. I’ll wait out front.

I rush back inside and find Willow sitting at one of the window-counter tables, her feet swinging back and forth underneath—so carefree.

“Owen’s coming to get me,” I say to her, dropping the keys on her tray and moving my phone into the side pocket of my bag.