“Yeah, where you throw a ball against the wall and then catch it?”
I raise my eyebrows but I don’t comment. He leans over his tray and quickly shovels the rest of his food down without sitting again.
We dispose of our trash, and he leads me to a spot out behind the main building like he said. The stone is worn down a bit here, lighter in patches, and smooth from months or maybe even years of slow erosion. Owen pulls a ball out of his pocket and bounces it against the wall, catches it, and then tosses it to me. I mimic him.
It’s a simple game, but sort of mesmerizing. I like the challenge it provides, but soon Owen has to slow me down and remind me this isn’t supposed to be a competition.
“It’s not?” I say, playfully, but I’m out of breath. I force myself to slow down, stop pushing myself, and even let myself miss an occasional ball.
We take turns for a while, just throwing the ball and catching it on its return. It’s almost therapeutic in a way. Eventually, our silence turns to talking. Not about anything in particular, and certainly not about classes. He’s surprisingly sweet, and he’s funny. Most of his stories revolve around Piers and Bennett, solidifying my guess that he doesn’t know what to do without them.
I know they’ve all known each other forever, but I’ve never seen a group of guys so close before. It’s like they’re a pack with Piers at the head, giving orders.
The sun is high in the sky and we’re hungry again before we think about going inside. I’m surprised by how quickly the hours flew by. As we walk back in, I nudge him with my elbow.
“You’re pretty cool on your own, you know,” I say, smiling at him. “You’re fun. Easy to hang out with.”
Surprisingly easy to hang out with. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. Of the three boys, Owen is definitely the only one who can be described as beautiful. The slope of his eyes, the sweep of his blonde hair, the angle of his cheekbones—they’re all perfect in the way an ancient Greek sculptor imagined a man’s face should look.
Combine that with his winning smile … and I can almost look past the fact he’s part of the reason I’ve had to get used to the dull ache of bruises in my sleep.
He’s been tossing the ball as we walk, but now he catches it and holds it, looking stunned. “Nah,” he says. “I’m not as cool as Piers, or as good-looking. And I’m not as strong as Bennett.”
“I think you’re confusing the words ‘cool’ and ‘cruel’,” I reply. “And Bennett is more of a bear than a human.”
That makes him laugh, flashing his dimple again. “Yeah, Benny-bear’s a big boy.” He tosses the ball again and then shakes his head. “You think Piers is hotter than me?”
I could hit him, so I do. I don’t make the same mistake as I did with Piers; my playful punch barely grazes his arm. It doesn’t hide the fact that Owen is just as strong beneath his shirt. I’m almost disappointed it stayed on the whole time we were outside. Almost.
I don’t tell Owen any of this. I just pat him on the shoulder and give my own head a dramatic shake.
“Please don’t tell me you’re that insecure,” I say.
I meant it as a joke, but Owen blushes. It’s adorable.
It makes my body betray me, again. A longing takes over. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a man. Not since I found out about this world and dedicated myself to becoming a part of it.
I look sideways at him. “Owen, you’re wrong about Piers,” I admit. “I think you’re very good-looking.”
I’m not lying. He’s incredibly handsome, what with his tousled blonde hair and clean-shaven jaw, his full, almost pouty lips, his wiry muscles … all if it fits together into the perfect specimen of a man before me.
We get back around to the courtyard and start walking together toward the residence hall. I think I can see movement back up in the window to our room. Looks like Erin is back from her special training session.
I really need to have a talk with her about closing the blinds.
“Would you hang out with me again?” Owen asks, or really, blurts out.
“Yeah.” I answer without hesitation.
He smiles. “Cool. Bennett says he and his roommate are gonna work on their project every weekend, and Piers likes to sleep in on Saturdays, so …”
“Next week, same time?” I ask.
He grins and nods.
I could get used to this new arrangement. If I’m lucky, it won’t just be until after winter break.
That break is hurtling ever closer, and with it, tensions rise.