Page 7 of Fragile Hearts

I need stability.

I need a place to live.

And Owen has given me that.

“I’m gonna go for a surf in a bit. You wanna come?” Owen now says, changing the subject. He knows the way to get me to come out of my shell already.

Surfing was the only thing that I could count on when I was in foster care. I would go to the after-school surf program that Mitch Harris ran, and that’s where I met Alana. She was the first real friend I ever had, even if she is a few years older than me. She’s like a mom and a best friend all rolled into one, and for the last six years or so, she’s been the only person I can count on.

“Yeah, that’d be cool,” I tell him, looking at the table and the kitchen; both need to be cleaned up. “I’ll get the kitchen cleaned up and meet you out there.”

Owen lets out a deep, throaty laugh, his eyes wrinkling up at the corners, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s trying too hard. But he isn’t. This is just who Owen is.

“You’re not cleaning up the kitchen alone, Sloane.”

Owen and I tackle the kitchen together in companionable silence, and even though it hasn’t even been a full day, he’s made me feel more than welcome.

A part of me can’t stop thinking about what his motives for letting me move in might be. I know he “likes” me, and “like” is kind of a weak way to describe it. “Lusts after me” would be more accurate, but I’ve kept him at arm’s length. He doesn’t want to deal with all the baggage I have.

I hate the constant nagging feeling that I’m never going to be able to pay Owen back for his kindness, for letting me move in, and that eventually he’ll grow bored and bothered by me. And I’ll be chucked to the side, like I’ve always been.

“Meet you outside?” Owen says. I nod, hoping that once I’m out on the water with Owen, I start to relax a bit.

I head into my room to change, rummaging through the bags I have for a rash guard and bikini bottoms. Finding two mismatched sets, I pull them on, braiding my hair to keep it out of my face. Taking a quick look at myself in the mirror, I then turn and take in the room.

It’s bigger than any bedroom I’ve ever had, and I’ve never had my own bathroom. Not just my own bathroom; it’s a bathroom that has a huge shower and a soaker tub. Alana, Daisy and I all shared one small bathroom, and there were times that all three of us were in there at the same time. I can’t even fathom what this is going to be like.

Pretty much a dream.

I can’t fuck this up.

Taking a second look around the room, I grab a towel and some surf wax, leaving the room to meet Owen outside.

The second I step outside, it’s hard not to gasp when I see him. I’ve always had a thing for surfer boys, and Owen is the epitome of one. With his sun-kissed skin and his tousled chocolate-colored hair, he fits the look perfectly.

He’s smiling at me when I come out, but I watch his face change when he takes me in. My rash guard is cropped, revealing my stomach along with my low-cut boy shorts skimming my hips. And I’m suddenly self-conscious, wanting to cover up, but then my eyes fall to his body.

Every line and every muscle is on display, and I want to run my fingers over his perfectly sculpted abs. How in the hell can he look this damn good shirtless? It’s not fair to the rest of mankind. Not that I haven’t seen him shirtless a million times, but something about this moment feels different. Like I’m finally noticing what has been in front of me all this time.

“You ready?” I ask, focusing my attention somewhere other than Owen’s shirtless physique. It’s only going to get harder when we’re out on the water, watching the muscles of his back flex as he paddles out. There’s nothing sexier.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he replies, and I grab my board, following him down to the water.

No shocker that his house is literally steps from the beach, giving perfect access to the water and epic surf. I’m going to want to start and end my day out on the water. If only I had the time.

The sun is just beginning to set, casting a glow on the turquoise water, and with it basically empty, Owen and I have our pick of the waves. I’ve never seen something so perfect, that is until I saw Owen shirtless, now that we live together.

Even as nervous as I am about living with him, it hasn’t stopped me from dreaming about what he might be like in bed. It’s just a dream though. Something I won’t dare let happen.

We paddle out together, catching a few small waves, riding them into the shore. It’s calm and no different than if I were out here with Alana or Daisy. It feels strangely comfortable, something I’m not used to happening right away.

“How are classes going?” Owen asks me when there’s a lull in the waves. Both of us are straddling our boards, our legs hanging over, his foot brushing mine absentmindedly. He sounds genuinely interested, and it shows in the way he listens as I talk.

“Good. Busy,” I say, realizing I’m being vague, and if he cared enough to ask, then I should answer honestly. “It’s fucking overwhelming with work, but I’m nearly done with my pre-reqs, so that’s good. I’m ready to get into more graphic design classes.”

“Graphic design, huh?”

“Yep, I’ve always loved designing and art, so I figured it would be a good option,” I tell Owen, and he nods. “How about you? What are you majoring in?”

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