Always Never Yours(38)

I let out a rueful laugh. “Yeah.”

“Did you tell Will all of that?” Owen watches me as he takes a hesitant sip of his coffee.

“I wasn’t sure if I should. I mean, that’s the other thing. He said something about never having a girlfriend, and it sounded like he didn’t think of me that way. I didn’t want to, like, unload my personal shit on him if he doesn’t see us as having that kind of relationship.”

“I have to say,” Owen begins, “if you just shut down a hookup without an explanation, I’d understand if Will was a little confused. Remember, he’s pretty inexperienced. I don’t know how many conversations with girls he’s even had. It might not occur to him to ask what’s wrong.”

He has a point. Will’s so gorgeous, it’s easy to forget that everything’s new to him. “I guess,” I tell Owen. If Will’s that inexperienced, he might not even know how to bring up the question of a relationship with me. “What do you think? Do you think he considers me his girlfriend? Has he said anything?”

He takes another sip of coffee, clearly stalling. “I don’t . . . know, Megan,” he says delicately, or uncomfortably.

“Well, could you please ask?”

He gives me an uncomprehending look. “Yeah, in the midst of our next slumber party, after the pillow fight. When we’re exchanging our deepest, most tender secrets over a flashlight, I’ll be sure to bring you up.”

“That’d be great, Owen. Thanks,” I say dryly.

“I was just—”

“I know.” I roll my eyes. “Just, the next time you talk to him about Cosima, bring the conversation around to Will and me.”

“Evidently I’m not saying this right,” Owen says with forced patience. “The conversations you’re imagining, they don’t happen. Especially between . . . me and Will. We’re not that close. No friend-glue, remember?”

“Please, Owen,” I implore, batting my eyelashes and knowing damn well it’ll work.

He sighs, dropping his head back over the chair. When he returns his eyes to me, I can tell he’s hiding a smile. “Fine. For you.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I stand to collect our dishes. “Now, what do you want to know for your play?” I call over my shoulder as I carry the plates into the kitchen. Wow, I catch myself realizing, I’m glad Owen didn’t look past the high chair. The kitchen is a mess, and not just an Erin mess. There’s the box of microwave macaroni I left out from yesterday’s dinner, a pile of Rose’s paralegal paperwork on the counter, and a piece of scratch paper from the Trig assignment I didn’t finish next to the toaster. Mental note—clean the house before the next time Owen comes over.

He’s taken his notebook out by the time I walk back into the living room. “I’m working on Rosaline’s relationships with characters other than Romeo,” he says while reviewing his notes. “Would she have known Mercutio or Tybalt or Romeo’s family?” He looks up from his notebook, fixing his eyes on me. “I was even toying with the idea she might’ve known Juliet.”

I know where he’s going with this. “You want to talk about me and Madeleine.”

“Why are you friends with her?” he blurts.

I guess I’m not the only one who gets right to the point. Still, the transparent way he said it makes me laugh. “What’s not to like?”

“Stealing your boyfriend.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” I say. “We’ve been friends forever. She moved to Stillmont a month before the end of freshman year, right around when my dad remarried. Even though she hardly knew me, she immediately invited me to stay over while my dad was on his honeymoon. She spent twenty hours with me in the hospital while Erin was being born, she baked brownies for me every day I missed my mom, she’s come to every one of my shows, she’s been there for me after every breakup—”

“Except for one,” Owen interrupts.

“It’s not like she decided to steal my boyfriend.” I shrug.

He looks skeptical. “Well . . .”

“She fell in love with a guy who I happened to be dating, and he fell in love with her. I didn’t exactly imagine kids and a white picket fence with Tyler Dunning, and you can’t help who you fall in love with.”

“I suppose not,” he says softly, his eyes averted almost pointedly, as if he wants them anywhere but on me.

I go on, feeling like it’s important I defend Madeleine. “When she realized she had feelings for Tyler, she told me. They both did. It’s not like I didn’t see it coming. Tyler has his faults, but he treated me decently, better than Romeo did Rosaline.”

Owen determinedly taps his pen on his knee. “There’s really no bad blood between you and Madeleine? The whole best-friend thing isn’t some passive-aggressive act?”

“Wow. Devious, Owen.” I give him a half smile. “No, everyone figures that. But I’m honestly happy for my best friend. Love is inconvenient sometimes. I mean, you know. It’s probably not ideal to have a girlfriend in Italy.”

Owen’s stopped writing. He’s staring down at the notebook, and he’s got that contemplative look I’m realizing I quite like. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s inconvenient.”