I tried to lighten the mood. "So, you had a steady stream of interesting visitors, huh?" I wagged my eyebrows at Owen, but he was not amused.
"Friends, gamers, and people Jasper works with," he said. "They were never loud or stomping around at inconsiderate hours."
"So, regular friends. Except for the random clients and freelancers that Jasper brings by, right?" I asked. "You once told me you had not seen him with the same person twice for a month."
"Yeah." Owen shrugged. "Jasper meets a lot of people."
"And, they never stay around for long, do they?" I asked. "They hang out here for a bit and then head off to a bar or somewhere, right? Do you ever go with them to the bar?"
"It’s not really my scene," Owen said.
"So, you don't know if he goes off and actually hangs out with these people or if they just leave at the same time?"
"What are you getting at?"
"Well, from the outside, it would be easy to think you or Jasper were dealing drugs out of your apartment," I said. "A steady stream of ever-changing people that never really stick around for long. I could see that being something I would think if it was happening at my neighbor’s."
Owen stretched both hands out on the kitchen island and pressed down hard. "I knew it was going to be something like that. No matter what, people are always going to think I smoke marijuana or do drugs just because I play video games. I swear to God, the stereotypes are the worst part about my career. Even at the tournament, I heard over and over again how surprised people were at how I look. They hear gamer and they think stoner wearing sweatpants and hanging out in a basement."
"So, you think some neighbor found out what you do for a living and just assumed you must be a drug dealer, too?" I asked. "Think about it, there has to be more to it than that."
"No, there doesn't, and that's what really bothers me," Owen said.
"Well, then do something about it," I said. I could not help but be impatient with him. We were just standing around complaining when nothing bad had actually happened to him. Plus, I was working on my own theory that I was shocked he had not even considered.
"What am I supposed to do about it?" Owen asked.
"Do an interview talking about stereotypes. Write a blog post. Get your fellow gamers into a discussion of how negative stereotypes affect them too," I said. "It would give a little balance to the whole 'cops searching your apartment' side of the story."
Owen leaned further down on the island and buried his head in his hands. "It sounds like you think I need to build up a case to prove I'm innocent."
"Well, it wouldn't hurt, because obviously someone thinks there’s suspicious activity here at your apartment." I reached out and brushed his hair out of his face. "Too bad they don't see everything that goes on here."
"I'm sorry I accused your father, Quinn. I just feel like someone is out to get me," he said. He stood up and joined me on the other side of the kitchen island.
"Or maybe they are trying to pin it on you," I said. Owen did not take my hint. His hands were too busy sliding around my waist.
He pulled me in for a fierce hug. "Thank you for coming. I know I'm probably the last person you wanted to see tonight. I thought maybe your father had convinced you I was no good, and that made me think I should give you space at the tournament. I didn't mean to ignore your success or make you feel bad."
"So maybe it wasn't our best day," I said. "Some good came out of it." I wanted to tell him about the rush I felt helping people at the accident scene. I want to confess my idea of becoming an EMT. He could help me sign up for tournaments that paid cash prizes and I would be able to fund the training and certification myself.
Instead, I hugged him and stayed quiet. Owen's mind was too bogged down in his own problems to hear what I had to say. Sienna used to get like that, distant and absorbed in her own world. I remembered the best way to pull her out was to compliment her. Making her remember all her good traits turned her thoughts around.
"For one thing, I had the brilliant idea for you to start a new publicity campaign. Changing the stereotypes of gamers is just the sort of thing you would be the perfect poster boy for," I said. "Handsome, fit, living above ground, and not a single pimple to be seen."
"You'd be better," Owen said. "Young, female, well-educated, well-adjusted, and gorgeous. I know you want to break into the business side of it. Maybe that's just the thing to get you noticed."
"I'm not sure I need to be noticed by anyone besides you."
A slow smile curved his lips. "So, you're not mad at me anymore?"
I traced a teasing circle around his smiling mouth. "Oh, no, I am. But maybe you can think of some way to make it up to me."
He kissed my fingers and the sensation shot up my arm and tingled down my spine. Owen noticed my shiver of delight and caught my hand. He licked his lips and delivered a light yet sizzling kiss to the tip of each finger in turn.
Then, he opened the palm of my hand and dropped a warm, lingering kiss in the middle. I felt his tongue swirl a tight circle, and the heat of it unfurled something deep in my core.
"That's all you've got?" I whispered.