Page 18 of Easy To Lose

“Fuck, what happened?” Charly asks as I hear a muffled voice and then a door shutting, leaving us in silence. I honestly don’t know what I would do without her. When I left New York, I never thought about what it would be like to move thousands of miles away from everything I knew, including the friends I thought I’d have for life. Turns out friendships are hard to manage from a distance, and everyone I knew just fell away. Except for Charly. She’s been a constant, a source of never-ending friendship that doesn’t seem to diminish, no matter the length of time between texts or the number of miles separating us. And right now, I wish more than anything that she was here and not in New Orleans.

It doesn’t take long for me to spill my guts about everything: my frustration over losing weight, the kiss that might have changed everything, and of course…Bailey.

“That fucking bitch.” Charly swears as I sit alone in my car, tears streaming down my face with her on speakerphone.

“Yeah, well, she’s not wrong,” I say. Charly groans as if what I just said is the most outrageous thing she’s ever heard.

“Morgan, did you listen to yourself when you told me the story just now? Did you miss the fact that Owen pushed you up against a wall and kissed the hell out of you? Or did you just forget?” Of course, I didn’t forget, that part is seared into my brain.

“What if Bailey’s right? What if Owen can’t like a girl like me because he’s used to girls like her?”

“Have you actually talked to him? Maybe ask him these questions.” Damn her and her logic.

“Of course, I haven’t. That would be the reasonable thing to do. Since when do I do that? And plus, how do I go about starting that kind of conversation? Ask: Why do you like me? How can you like someone like me when you went out with someone like Bailey?”

“Yes, exactly that.”

“You make it sound so easy. None of this is easy.”

“Morgan, all of this should be simple. You’ve known Owen since you were kids. This shouldn’t be something you hesitate about. From the little time I spent with him, I saw the way his eyes followed you through a room, the way his body always turned toward you the minute you entered. He gives you the same look that Simon gives me when he’s about to tell me he loves me. That boy is crazy about you, and you need to either talk to him or stop stringing him along.” God, she’s right. She’s always freaking right.

“Why do you always have the answers? Why can’t you be as lost as me?”

“Because I was you before I met Simon. You need to learn to accept yourself. Maybe then you’ll trust Owen enough to let him love you.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with your husband,” I joke, but her words burn into the back of my mind. This might be harder than I thought.

Getting off the phone with Charly, I make my way inside. Just as I close the door and head into the kitchen, I hear a knock. I know who it is before I even open it, and I am not in the mood.

“Owen, I really don’t think you being here is a good idea,” I say through the door, not opening it.

“Can you please talk to me? That’s all I ask.” I take a deep breath and decide that maybe talking to him will get me some answers. So, I open the door. Before I even have a chance to say a word, Owen pushes into the house to cup the sides of my face and plants his lips on mine.

I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t expecting to feel like this again. But the longer his lips ravage mine, and I hear the groan that leaves his mouth…the minute I wrap my arms around his neck, I melt. I know we should talk. I know that I need answers before this goes any further, but right now, I only want to bask in the sensation of his lips against mine, his hands gripping my hips, and the feel of his cock hardening against my stomach. Because in the back of my mind, I know this can all go away in a split second if I allow it. The idea that someone like Owen is attached to someone like me doesn’t work. It doesn’t look the way it’s supposed to, and once that thought plants itself in my brain, it’s like being doused in cold water. Using my hands to push him away from me physically, my fingers immediately find my lips and I miss his taste instantly.

“We need to talk, right?” My chest is heaving, my hands shaking as my mind tries its hardest not to think about what those lips can do. But when Owen’s eyes bore into mine, moving from my lips to my eyes, it takes all of my strength to stay away.

“Yeah...talk,” he rumbles as I lead us through the house, feeling his eyes on me the entire time. Everything is different. When he kissed me the first time, I thought if it ended, everything could go back to normal. After that last one, after feeling the desperation in his touch and lips, I realize that nothing will be the same. No matter what the outcome.

Chapter 15

Morgan

The second we sit on the couch, the awkwardness sets in. I have no idea what to do with my hands. I pull at the fabric of my shirt, making sure it flows over my knees. Owen avoids my eyes, simply stares at the floor as if he weren’t just kissing the fuck out of me, as if his hands weren’t all over my body a second ago.

“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, my voice cracking as my gaze stays focused on the t-shirt wrapped around my crossed legs. When Owen doesn’t say anything, I look over and see his eyes are still focused on the floor. “Owen?” I say a bit louder. His head pops up, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “What did you want to talk about?” I repeat as he starts shaking his head.

“I wish I could go back and change everything,” he declares as my brow furrows in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Owen’s face lifts, his eyes looking into mine as he shifts to face me.

“I wish I could go back to prom night. Tell Kelly to go fuck herself and do what I was planning to do.” My heart starts to race, my hands turning clammy as I open my mouth to ask what he’s talking about. But nothing comes out. “I know you remember what I said a few weeks ago at the beach. I know we’ve kind of pushed it to the side because neither of us was ready to deal with what I said. But I’m ready now, and I need you to know some things.”

I have never been so aware of how loudly I breathe. The room gets eerily silent as I wait for Owen to start talking.

“Prom night was supposed to be the night I told you I loved you.” I take a shaky breath as Owen gives me a shy smile and then continues. “I was in love with you for a while, probably ever since our epic scary movie night sophomore year that had you hiding under my arm the entire time. Having you in my arms that night, feeling you nestled against me for protection from something, even imaginary things, changed everything.” He arches an eyebrow because he knows I’ll fight to the death to defend that ghosts are real. “It made me realize that I wanted to feel like that all the time.

“After that, everything changed for me. I couldn’t see you as just a friend anymore. I only saw the goofy, smiley, beautiful girl that I wanted to make happy.” I frown because the way he’s describing me is the exact opposite of how I saw myself at that time. High school wasn’t horrible for me, but it wasn’t a cakewalk, either. I got the glances in the hall, the snickers in gym class when I struggled to keep up with everyone else, and of course, the evil looks when Owen and I walked down the hall together. Yet, I try not to remember those moments. I attempt to remember that Owen made me feel accepted with the way he always made sure I was okay, even when he didn’t have to—and especially the way he made me feel as if I was the only important person in the room.

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