Page 21 of Addicted

“All the more reason to ask Owen to join us. He could probably use a drink.” She shooed him away from the glasses. “I’ll get this, just let me know what he says.”

“Fine,“ Liam tried not to whine and reluctantly crossed the dance floor, heading for the offices. He didn’t see Owen at all during the party but it wasn’t that unusual. Marci ran the show, Owen only had to pop in once or twice to make sure the bride and groom were happy and, with all the running around Liam had to do, it was easy to miss him.

As Liam reached the top of the landing, he noticed that the blinds were shut but Owen’s office door was cracked open. Tempted by the slice of light and the closed blinds, Liam sneaked up to the office, taking a peek inside.

The room was quiet. Owen was at his desk but he wasn’t looking at the computer. He was looking at his phone and his expression was such a perfect fit for Liam’s own despair that he froze in place, watching.

Owen was blatantly in pain. He’d said the divorce was contentious, which was a nice way of saying it was messy, but it was shocking to see the bleakness in Owen’s eyes as he stared down at the phone in his hands. Liam couldn’t make out the picture but he was pretty sure it was of Mikey or Sharon. Liam was still stunned that his family had split apart like that, but it was far too easy to lose everything and be left hurting and alone. Liam had learned that the hard way and, apparently, so had Owen.

It was strange how much they now had in common. And Liam knew that Owen probably didn’t want to talk about it so he silently backed up to the stairwell, cleared his throat several times, and walked toward the office again. By the time Liam knocked on the door, which opened inward a little more, Owen was typing away on his computer, the phone nowhere to be found.

“Liam! How did everything go tonight? “ That smile wasn’t completely fake. Was Owen that happy to see him?

“It was fine, the usual.” Liam was glad that the event had run smoothly. If anything had run aground he probably would’ve broken down and cried in front of the guests.

“Good to hear. The bride and groom seemed happy when I spoke to them earlier.” Owen hit a final button on the keyboard and turned away from the computer, folding his hands on the desk. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Um...” Liam traced the seam of the carpet with his toe. “Marci and the rest of the staff usually go to Bar None after cleanup and they wanted me to invite you.”

“Are you going?”

Liam started at the question. Why did Owen care if he went?

“I’m pretty tired so I’m not sure.” Wait. Was he actually considering it? He felt washed out, exhausted yet shaky. There was a bed, a blanket, and a white pill at home with his name on it but suddenly he was thinking about going out?

“I’m done too,” Owen wiped a hand over his face, stifling a yawn. “But I think it’s important to go for a little while, get to know everyone better. How ’bout it, Liam?”

“Uh...” Liam was in shock. Was Owen asking him to come along? Could he manage it? He didn’t know if he had the energy but with the way Owen stared openly at him, with those gorgeous pleading eyes, he once again couldn’t say no. “Okay.”

“Is it always this crowded?” Owen shouted in Liam’s ear.

Nodding, Liam tried not to blush at Owen’s proximity, his scent of oranges and spice rippling through Liam just as much as his deep sexy voice. Even though Liam was anxious there was still a chance his cock might wake up so he shifted over as far as he could, which wasn’t very far. Since Owen was attending, Marci had declared it a special night; therefore, they’d all settled at one of the long tables in the back. Liam had ended up sandwiched between Owen and the head chef Angelo and felt walled in with no easy means of escape.

“It’s Saturday night,” he tried to yell back, hoping that he could be heard over the noise. “I guess it’s supposed to be like this?”

“You’ve never been here on a Saturday night?” Owen took a sip of his beer, studying Liam, who shifted under that gaze, not touching the soda he’d ordered. He didn’t know a lot about drugs but he knew better than to mix alcohol and narcotics so cola it was.

“He never comes out with us, Bossman,” Dylan hollered from across the table. “He’s only here because you’re here.”

“Is that so?” Owen’s eyebrows lifted the slightest bit as Angelo nodded in agreement. Liam could feel Owen’s stare burning into him and wanted to sink through the floor. Owen didn’t need to know that he was a loner or - as Marci so eloquently put earlier - anti-social. It was too much of a contrast from how he used to be. It wasn’t like he’d been a social butterfly but at least he’d had friends, two very short-lived boyfriends, and hobbies. He didn’t want Owen to see how far he’d sunk.

And why did he care so much about what Owen thought? Was this only the simple protection of his grief, his memories, and the way he lived his life, maintaining the miserable status quo he’d adapted himself to? Or was it protection of what little he had left - his job, his apartment, and his fantasies of Ideal Owen, the only thing from his past that he could lean on without the extra weight of sadness?

Owen finally turned away, thanking Angelo for helping him with the sandwiches that afternoon, and as Liam covertly stared through his bangs at Owen’s regal profile, he wasn’t excited or happy, he didn’t have butterflies. He only felt despair.

He still liked Owen Parker.A lot. How could he not? Owen was kind, intelligent, and beyond handsome. He was also deeply sad, grieving for things that were lost, and that new connection was something that drew Liam even closer.

But there were many reasons Liam couldn’t act on his feelings. Owen was twelve years older. Owen was a family friend. Owen was his boss. Owen was in the middle of a terrible divorce.

And Owen wasn’t gay.

Even if the world twisted on its axis and Owen became inexplicably interested in Liam, it wouldn’t work out. Liam didn’t have anything to give. He was an empty shell and he didn’t want to mourn for his parentsanda failed relationship with Owen. He wanted Owen to stay right where he had been. In his mind. In his memories.

He didn’t want this. It wasn’t the fulfillment of his desires. It was an invasion that showed him what he couldn’t have.

The despair deepened, latching onto Liam’s exhaustion, and his vision blurred with tears. Keeping his head down, he mumbled something to Angelo and pushed his way out past him instead of Owen, aiming for the bathroom. The front entrance was out of reach but the men’s room was close, and Liam managed to find an empty stall and slam the door shut behind him before he silently broke down.

Gasping for breath, Liam put his fist on the dingy wall, sniffling as he tried to collect himself. If he could hold it together long enough to stay for another half hour, then he could say goodbye without too much suspicion on anyone’s part.

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