Page 28 of Fragile Hearts

She squints up at the screen, a smile on her face as she says, “Cool Hand Mochi, yes, I love it!”

Chuckling, I finish setting up his profile before I upload the video I just shot, adding in some caption about always striving for bigger things, no matter how small you are.

“Oh my god, so cheesy,” Sloane says, pinching my side. “I thought he was supposed to be cool?”

“That is cool,” I say, lifting my arm and dropping it around her shoulders as I pull her closer. I don’t know what’s happening right now with me and Sloane, why she suddenly feels so comfortable lying on the couch with me like this, but I’m not about to turn it down. I know we’re both pretty buzzed, and it’s not like I am going to do anything, but I am loving that she feels this comfortable with me right now.

“Is it though?” she asks, a teasing smirk on her face.

Grinning, I hold my hand out and snap a selfie of the three of us. “Yeah, he can be all cool and motivational and shit,” I say, smiling at the photo before I lower my phone.

Then, with one arm around Sloane and the other resting on Mochi, I close my eyes and go to sleep.

I’m sweaty as hell when I wake up, and it takes me a second to realize I’m still on the couch with Owen. He’s like sleeping with a heating pad, and he must have gotten hot too because he’s shirtless, with Mochi curled up in the crook of his arm.

The two of them are out, and neither makes a move when I carefully stand up from the couch, reaching for my phone on the coffee table. Taking a few pictures of them, my heart nearly leaps from my chest at how absolutely adorable they look. Mochi loves everyone, but he’s really taken to Owen, and there’s something about it that makes happiness bloom deep inside me, burrowing itself in my memory.

I watch them for a few seconds longer, wondering if taking a chance on Owen Sinclair would be worth it. Right now, everything in me is screaming yes.

Kneeling down in front of Owen, I push his hair back, whispering his name, not wanting to wake him or startle him, but I also don’t want to just leave him here.

“Owen,” I say softly again, my fingers tracing soft lines over his forehead and down his cheek.

Mochi lets out a contented sigh but never opens his eyes, just cuddling closer to Owen while Owen’s hand rests gently on Mochi’s soft fur.

When I say his name for a third time, Owen’s eyes flutter open, struggling to stay there as he murmurs, “Sloane?” A loose smile tugs at his lips as his eyes fall closed.

“You need to wake up,” I whisper, my fingers toying with his messy hair, and I find myself wanting to climb back onto the couch and fall asleep with him.

It’s as I’m contemplating this that Owen wakes a little more. Confused and groggy, he says, “Why are you in my room? Are you okay?”

His next question comes out with a tinge of panic, his eyes now opening, green pools of concern as he reaches out, his hand touching my cheek in a gesture that screams genuine worry, but behind it is a need to touch me, to be close to me.

“I’m not in your room,” I tell him, smiling, my hand now covering his as his thumb caresses my cheek. “We fell asleep on the couch. I’m going to go to my room.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies, a touch of disappointment in his answer, and I swallow hard, pushing back the urge to ask him if we should just stay here.

Together.

Owen sits up, easing Mochi back onto the couch, but Mochi isn’t having it. He turns to look at Owen, annoyed and bothered by being woken up, he lets out a bark of disapproval. Reaching down, I pick him up, tucking him into my side.

I begin to walk toward my bedroom, Owen still sitting on the couch, running a hand through his hair, a hard sigh falling from his lips.

“You okay?” I ask him, turning back and stepping closer.

“Yeah, just a little disoriented,” he says, standing now too. “Can’t remember the last time I fell asleep on the couch with a girl.” He chuckles a little, and it has this perfect quality to it. Soft and melodic, almost like a song, and I find myself wanting to hear more of it. “Probably high school,” he adds. “Sent my mom into a rage. Something tells me she’d have a different response now.”

“I’m sure she would,” I say, smiling at him and how cute he looks all disheveled and sleepy.

“She adores you,” Owen says, somewhat absentmindedly.

I catch it, but I don’t know how to respond, caught off guard, and I don’t have a chance to because Owen then says, “Night, Sloane.”

Dropping a kiss on the top of Mochi’s head, he then kisses my temple in a simple and sweet gesture that makes my heart flutter, butterflies filling my stomach.

I’ve never had someone in my life like Owen. Someone who looks at me like I’m more than just some fucked up kid no one wanted. I have Alana and Daisy, but it’s not the same thing. He sees me for everything I have to offer, for everything I am and everything I want to be.

Maybe he’s always looked at me this way, but I was too worried about his family and his money to give him a chance.

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