Page 17 of Owen's Heart

“How long, Owen?” Rania spits out.

“A week or so, okay! After we moved out of the dorm, a few of us went to Tampa over a long weekend. It was a long, drunk week for me. Most of the time, I was drunk and angry that you accused me of doing something I didn’t do, so I fucked her! Are you satisfied now?”

Slap! The sound of my hand meeting flesh sounds off in the room.

“Shit!” Owen grates out, rubbing his palm against his reddened cheek. “Did that make you feel better? Here.” He turns his other cheek. “Have a go at that one if it will make you forgive my stupidity.”

As if it’s in slow motion, I rear back and contact his other cheek with more force. Owen’s green eyes widen with a glimmer of desire. I know like hell he’s not turned on by my anger. That enrages me even more.

“Take me home!” I scream.

“Rania, wait…” He makes a bold move and inches closer to me. Owen is within a foot of me when he reaches out to touch my face. “Stay, and let’s talk this out, sweetheart.”

Strange, enigmatic energy passes between us. I feel myself giving in as he strokes my cheek and looks down into my eyes. I should stay and talk to him. This is all in our past. We could have a future together. Those are the things I tell myself before I snap out of his entrancing gaze. Looking into his mesmerizing green eyes is a trick. It’s sorcery. He’s a spellcaster. He has always been this way.

I will myself to look away and tell him, “We have already talked. I’ve heard enough.”

Hearing that he didn’t sleep with Chantel while we were together but that they jumped into the sack right after we broke up doesn’t make me feel any less betrayed. It makes me think he was feeling her the whole time she was fawning over him.

The signs were there, many of them. Back when we were in university, I had often walked into places Owen hung out with his friends and found him sitting close to Chantel, laughing at her jokes, and enjoying her company despite knowing how I felt about her. It all makes sense now.

I walk out of his reach to stand by the door, done talking and done indulging Owen’s confessions. “I’m ready to go, so take me home.”

“I will take you home, but this conversation isn’t over,” Owen finally relents and grabs his keys off the counter so that we can leave.

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