Broken Beautiful Hearts(70)

what time? i need to shower.

Ugh … Why did I mention the shower?

Is an hour enough time?

that works.

As soon as we stop texting, I jump in the shower.

I’m not one of those girls who take forever to get ready. I’m pretty low-maintenance in the makeup department—blush, lip gloss, and a little concealer if I stayed up too late the night before. My thick waves won’t yield to a blowout, so my style choices are limited to ponytail or no ponytail. But today, I spend a ridiculous amount of time deciding between the two.

I finally settle on wearing my hair down. Owen has a way of looking at me that leaves me feeling exposed. My hair will give me somewhere to hide.

Choosing something to wear is more complicated. In an effort to make sure this doesn’t seem like a date, jeans are the obvious choice. But then I have to decide whether to go with a long-sleeve T-shirt or step it up a notch and wear a sweater. After changing four times, I end up wearing the first outfit I tried on—jeans and my fitted, super-soft V-neck pullover, and a gray infinity scarf.

Dutch howls from downstairs, which means the doorbell rang and I didn’t hear it. I peek out my bedroom window. Owen’s SUV is parked at the curb.

Has it really been an hour already?

I do a quick check in the full-length mirror on the closet door. My perfectly arranged curls, “just bitten” lip stain, and black V-neck that hugs my curves make me look like I spent an hour getting ready. I flip my head forward and rake my hands through my hair to mess it up a little. Then I rub my berry-colored lips with a towel. The hair trick works, but my lips end up pinker.

The doorbell rings again and Dutch howls like crazy. On my way out, I throw on my oversize Adams High soccer hoodie. Nothing says not really trying like a ratty hoodie.

Why am I nervous? It’s Owen. We’re friends.

Friends who kissed last night.

I walk downstairs and open the door.

Owen’s eyes skim over me, and all I can think about is the way his lips felt when he kissed me. His damp blond hair is finger-combed in the sexy-sweet look that he has perfected without realizing it. He breaks into a smile and shakes his head.

“What?” I look down at my outfit.

“You look even hotter with your hair all wild.”

“Whatever.” I close the door and slip past him. Hot isn’t a word guys use to describe me. Cute? Maybe. But hot? No way.

Hot is for girls like April. I’m more of the girl next door type. After years of fighting it, I’m finally okay with it.

I cross the lawn and Owen rushes ahead of me to open the car door. When I get in, he raises an eyebrow. “No argument?”

“I’ve given up on this one.”

Owen seems nervous, too. He turns on the radio, and then turns it off again. “There’s somewhere I want to take you, if that’s okay.”

“Sure. Where?”

“I kind of want it to be a surprise.” He glances over at me, and I melt a little. I start to say something, and he adds, “Before you say anything, I just want to remind you friends do surprises, too.”

He knows me better than I thought.

“That’s not what I was gonna say.”

He grins at me. “Liar.”

I try not to smile, and Owen laughs. He doesn’t look anything like he did last night when I dropped him off. His cheeks have color again, and he’s back to his adorable smart-ass self.

He takes the windy back roads instead of the street to get to the mystery destination.

“Where did you say we were going?” I ask innocently.

“Nice try. This is the scenic route to my house.”

“Are we going to your house?” I’d love to see his room. You can learn a lot about a person from the things in their bedroom.

“No. The place I’m taking you is in the woods behind my house.” He pulls off and stops in a clearing.

“The woods?”

“It’s not like we’re going camping. Pretty much everything around here is forest.” He glances at my knee brace. “And it’s not far or uphill.” He wipes his hands on his jeans like his palms are sweaty. “I don’t know why I’m making such a big deal about this. Now I feel kind of stupid. It’s just this place. You’ll see.”

I get out before Owen has a chance to rush around and open the car door for me. He notices, but he lets it slide.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Yeah. I want to see this mystery place.”

He reaches toward me, as if he’s going to take my hand. Then he pulls his arm back and shoves his hand into his pocket instead. The kiss definitely complicated the just-friends plan.

The Tennessee forest is gorgeous. The trees are losing their fall leaves—shades of yellow, orange, and red that I’ve never seen before. “It’s pretty out here.”

Owen looks around at the woods he probably played in all the time as a kid. “Yeah, I guess it is. This is sort of my backyard. Just a little farther.”

Suddenly, he seems nervous, like he’s about to show me his bedroom.

The trees open up, revealing a path. This must be what he wanted to show me.

“Oh my god, Owen. Is that a tree house?”

“It’s not really high up enough to be a tree house. My dad built it when I was a kid, and my mom is pretty overprotective. She was convinced I’d fall out. So it turned into a tree fort.”