Page 42 of Bad For A Weekend

“Can you take me somewhere?” I ask.

Owen takes a bite of his apple, sucking the juices before pulling it free from his mouth. God, that’s hot.

“Where?”

It’s been nearly a week since prom, and I can’t get my head right, no matter how hard I try. I even failed a math quiz because I spent the whole class reliving what happened that night.

“The Grove.”

The last time I can remember my thoughts calming was when he took me to the shopping center parking garage. I hope it wasn’t a fluke because I need a break. Even the guided meditation my therapist introduced me to ended in disaster.

Each time my eyes close, I feel that man’s breath on me, I hear his gravelly voice, and I feel the hard metal of the gun digging into my back. Even when I blink, mini flashbacks play on repeat. It’s slowly driving me insane.

“I don’t know, Baylor,” he says, and I know why he’s hesitant. Ever since prom, he’s been avoiding me like the plague. When we’re in the car, he turns the radio up so we can’t talk. When we’re home, he dashes out the backdoor before I can blink. And curtains have been hung on all the windows in the pool house. He’s drawn a line between us.

“Please, Owen.” I chew on the inside of my mouth, thinking about how I can make him understand. “It’s so loud in my head.”

This, he gets. Based on our previous conversations, he knows the feeling and how exhausting it can be.

“Fine. Let me get my keys. I’ll meet you outside.”

“Thank you,” I say genuinely.

“No problem.”

The ride to The Grove is quiet, but I’m so lost in my head I don’t mind. The nightmares from the first time I was taken had just started to wane when prom happened—a night I’ve dubbed as the best and worst of my life—and now they’re back. I’m not sleeping, I’m not leaving my house unless necessary, and I’ve been avoiding my friends.

This isn’t me, and I don’t like it.

“Baylor.” Owen breaks through my thoughts. “We’re here.”

I step out of the car and walk around the back. Owen’s already opened the back hatch, and I take a seat on the bumper. It’s nearly sunset, and the City of Angels is glowing orange through the dense smog.

We’re not that far up, but the world feels miles away. All those people down there are going about their lives, having coffee with friends, shopping, doing all the daily things they fill their time with as if there isn’t a man roaming around who beat me up, held me at gunpoint, and tried to abduct me.

It could be the man sitting next to them at the coffee shop, the man walking inches behind them on the street, or the man who just let them into traffic. They don’t know, and neither do I.

Maybe that’s why this time is bothering me more than last. At least then, the person responsible was placed behind bars. The man from prom is still out there. Probably plotting his next attack.

Owen sighs, sitting as far away as he can from me on the other side of the bumper. The car sinks a few inches from his weight.

“So, what’s going on?” he asks.

I ignore his question, not wanting to think about my own issues for a while. “Will you tell me what happened to you?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’ve always wondered, but you’ve been pretty secretive about it.”

He squints, casting his gaze on the horizon. I know he doesn’t want to get close to me, which is obvious by how he retreats from conversations and how he reacted after our kiss. But I don’t know why. I mean, I can understand why he doesn’t want tobewith me. He’s told me those reasons. But why doesn’t he ever want to talk about himself?

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Please, Owen. I just need something else to focus on for a while.”

“It’s not easy for me to talk about.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that part of it. If it’s too hard—”

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