Page 1 of Sparks Still Fly

part one

then

1/

fuck me sideways.

maeve

may, 10 years ago

Today, I met the man I’m going to marry. Of course, he doesn’t know, and I certainly won’t be telling him or anyone else right this second because he’s my best friend’s older brother. But he’s the one. I feel it with every fiber of my being. I may only be nineteen, but once I know what I want, nothing can stop me. And what I want is Owen James.

Some may call me dramatic, and they would be right, but the moment I saw his 6’4” frame walk through the door of our dorm, I felt it. A bolt of electricity ran right through me, and I saw sparks fly. It’s not just because he’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen, though that certainly doesn’t hurt. It’s because he’s meant to be mine, and I’m already his. It’s as inevitable as the sunrise.

We’re sitting in a booth at our favorite Thai restaurant, close to where I live with my roommates—Elaina, who I call Bonnie, and my twin sister, Charlie. Owen is directly across from me, and he’s been so polite, asking me and Charlie about how our first year at NYU has been, what we love most about the city, and what we miss about living in London.

I’ve been taking in every detail about him. The way his blond hair is cropped evenly all around his head, the way his throat moves when he swallows, the muscles in his arms moving as he brings his chopsticks to his mouth. His cheeks are perfectly smooth, and my fingertips tingle as I imagine what it would feel like to touch them, kiss him there.

I’ve done little except smile and occasionally ask a question as I fidget with my chopstick wrapper, turning it into a mini origami swan. It’s something I started doing as a way of distracting myself during dinners as a child. My mum’s third husband insisted we should try different foods and be exposed to all cuisines, and I always loved going to the restaurants that had chopsticks so I could practice making things like boats and hearts. But I always loved the swans most of all—there’s something about how graceful they look, even in paper form.

Once I’ve successfully made four swans out of all the discarded wrappers, I allow myself to glance at Owen, my eyes pausing where he’s twisting one of my swans around the table with his index finger and thumb as if the tiny bird is swimming along calm waters. It’s soothing, watching the way his fingers move my little creation, and eventually, I allow my gaze to move back to his unfairly sharp jaw.

He seems more comfortable with Charlie because she smiles just about as much as he does, which is not very much at all. Ever the opposing twin, I’ve constantly got a smile on my face. I like to be happy, and I like to make other people happy, too.

Char is very direct with her answers. That’s always been her style, and she’s not one for theatrics. I, on the other hand, absolutely live for theatrics. It’s why I’m going to become an actress. I love becoming someone new, thinking of new ways to express myself and really getting into my characters’ minds. So, when Owen addresses me, I give him the full Maeve, which amounts to big smiles, loads of eye contact and pauses in all the right places. He smiles politely back at me, but it’s the same smile he’s given Charlie—small and tight—so I know he hasn’t realized we’re meant to be just yet.

That’s fine, I can learn to be patient. Maybe. Hopefully. I mean, I’ve never done it before, but how hard can it be, right?

He pays for dinner, and we start the walk back to our dorm. Char and Elaina are happily chatting ahead of us, and that allows me to hang back a bit with Owen.

“How are you liking New York so far? Has it met all of your expectations?” I raise an eyebrow and look up at him as I ask this, and he glances at me quickly before staring ahead again.

“It’s fine. I’ve visited before, but it’s nice to see Lainey feeling so at home here.” He shrugs as he says this, then looks down at me. “Thanks for being a good friend to her. She always writes about how great you and Charlie have been, especially after everything that happened at home.”

The earnestness in his eyes knocks me off my game, and my Maeve the actress persona falls away faster than a car explosion in a movie after someone shoots the gas tank. I swallow hard as I think of everything my new best friend has been through in the last year. She fell in love and lost that love tragically. It took her weeks to open up to us about it, and she’s finally smiling a little more these days.

“Oh.” Suddenly, my eyes fill with tears for a reason I can’t explain. I’m not a crier. I control my emotions like I control my eyeliner—with the precision of a brain surgeon. But when it comes to my girls? My sisters? I’m a goner.

Owen touches my arm, and I’m certain I stop breathing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just nice to know she’s got good people around her. I worry about her, you know?” He moves his hand away, and I stare at it for a moment too long, watching the imaginary sparks as they flutter around us.

“Of course. She’s doing so much better, though, and you don’t have to worry. We’ve got our Bon no matter what.” I smile weakly up at him, and when he returns the motion with a deliciously crooked smirk, my step falters. My hands instinctively go out, and Owen’s massive arm is there to catch me.

“You all right, Maeve?”

Oh god, he said my name. He said my name. It was the first time he’s said it and I’ll forever remember this moment as the first time he said my name, and I nearly fell on my face into a disgusting New York City sidewalk.

“Yep. Thanks!” There’s far too much pep in my tone, considering I’m not sure I’ve taken a breath yet since he touched me.

Thankfully, Owen is much smoother than I am at this moment and diffuses the situation brilliantly. “Why do you call Lainey Bonnie? Or Bon? Where does that come from?”

“Oh, well, it’s a nickname. It means beautiful. Because Elaina is beautiful inside and out, and that’s easy to see from the moment you meet her.” This is a fact. I have known Elaina for eight months, and she’s one of the best people I’ve ever met. “She’s a bonnie lass, that one. Charlie and I had this elderly Irish neighbor who used to babysit us sometimes, and she always called us that. I guess it felt natural to pass on to Elaina.”

His rumbly chuckle makes my pulse race. “That’s...very cute.”

Cute? Oh, bollocks. Cute is no good. Not when I need him to see me as his future wife, or, at the very least, his next shag who will turn into his future wife.

“Well, you’ve been good for her. So…thanks. Again.” One more time, the sincerity of his voice rocks me.

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