Page 32 of Since Always

He looks hurt when I say it. "Do you not feel comfortable around me? I thought the last few days..." He trails off.

"I do. I mean, it's been okay, but it still doesn't feel like it used to. Do you think we will ever be able to go back? I miss us."

He stares at me for a long moment and opens his mouth, pauses, and closes it again before speaking. Owen is a man who thinks about every word he says. He has to be. So, I wait, knowing he will speak when he is ready.

"No," he finally answers, not shifting away from my gaze. It's like he's slapped me across the face. My eyes are filling, even as I blink back the tears; I don't want him to see my reaction.

"Okay." I break free of his stare and let my eyes drop to the table. But he reaches across to me and lifts my chin. It is such a simple movement, but it feels loaded.

He makes sure I am looking straight into his eyes before he speaks again. "I think we can't go back to what it was before, because that moment fundamentally changed how we see each other. You used to be just a kid to me. And I know I was like a big brother to you. And obviously, that's... that's never going to be the case again. But that doesn't mean we can't find a new normal for us. One that is just as amazing—this time as two adults who are friends and have a complex and wonderful history."

"Are we still friends, though?" I ask, my heart beating hard inside my chest. "I know we are being friendly but, before this, you didn't speak to me for two years. I've had to watch your life unfold in newspapers and on the internet. Is that how it's going to be? Because that doesn't feel just as amazing as what we once had."

"I struggled, Cass. I did. It ate me alive. I need you to understand how hard it was for me. How wrong it felt to go from thinking about you the way I always had before, to realizing you weren't that same little girl I had always known. And that now what you were was someone I thought about entirely differently."

Maybe it should bother me that he is admitting how wrong it felt, but all I can focus on is the fact that he was thinking about me. And how he was thinking about me. I crack a smile that I know he doesn't miss. He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose.

"Stop it," he says.

"Stop what?" I cock one eyebrow up. "I'm not doing anything."

"Yes, Cassidy. I did think about you. I thought about that morning, and the night, and all of it. I thought about it so much, I could barely think about anything else. And it killed me. It was wrong. And I'm not saying that to hurt you. But what you said that day—what you said about your dad—"

My eyes drop again, my smile fading and stomach dropping at the memory. I had mocked him for taking advantage of the girl my dad had trusted him with. It was a horrible low blow I had I spat in anger.

"I didn't mean—"

"No," he cuts me off. "You were right. And I hated myself for it. Every time I would think about you, I would feel dirty and wrong. It was eating me alive, and yet, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

I look back up at him at this, but now he is the one looking away, a distant expression on his face. "I thought for sure, if I stayed away from you, if I didn't talk to you, or see you, I could put this whole thing behind me. There was a part of me that thought maybe it would be best if I just never saw you again. But that wasn't—I couldn't do that. I missed you, I missed your family, and I missed these trips. I came back praying that when I saw you again, it would be gone. That, like you said, we could just be back to who we were before all of this."

"And..." I urge him on when he falls silent again.

"And it wasn't. It wasn't gone. It isn't gone." Our eyes meet and my breath catches in my throat. Around us, the loud patio is full of laughter, yelling and the clanking of dishes. People stand close by at the bar drinking and toasting the New Year. Music plays from the speakers overhead. But it all fades away and all I can see is Owen, as though we are the only two people here. I struggle to find words—any words.

"What does that mean? For us, I mean."

"I don't know. I guess it means when we find our new normal, and become friends again, we have to factor in the fact we are attracted to one another. At least, I am attracted to you. And we have to figure out how we overcome that.

I snort out a little laugh. "First of all, you know I am attracted to you, so don't be stupid. I've been attracted to you since I knew what those words meant."

"I didn't want to sound cocky," he says, winking.

Oh, God. I am melting. I am sitting right here in this chair, melting into the ground beneath me. Owen needs me to consider his attraction to me.

"What if we don't? What if we don't try to overcome it?" I ask.

His jaw tenses. "No. That's not an option."

"Why? You were right when you said things have changed. I am not the little girl you once knew, and now we are both adults. Consenting, willing adults. We've established we are attracted to one another. You say you've thought about it—about me—and, well, I think about you all the time. What's stopping us from acting on it?"

"Everything. Reality. The fact your brother and mother, who I happen to care about more than just about anyone in the entire world, would kill me. The fact I would probably never win another re-election campaign again. The fact we could ruin any chance we had a friendship, and destroy our relationship."

"Owen Blaze," a loud voice interrupts us before I can protest. We both reluctantly look towards the young blonde man standing at the table in front of us. "Dude, I'm such a big fan. Can I get a selfie? This is so fucking cool."

"Now's not a great—" Owen says, but I stop him.

"No, it's fine. Go ahead."

---