Page 105 of Owen North

“If I was taking advantage of you, Charlize, you would be on your knees.”

Holy mother ofgood girls suck dick.

I squeeze my legs together.

“Okay, one bad movie in exchange for one bad game of golf. I’m choosing the movie.”

“What is it you like about bad movies?”

“Well, sometimes they make you laugh, which is always good. But they’re not all bad, and that’s the thing. Reviews are personal and subjective. I’ve found some great movies that were on other people’s bad list. I don’t know, I’m not a fan of judging things as good or bad. Or of always looking for perfection. We can find beauty in the flaws, right?”

Owen listens intently in the way he always does. He turns all of that over in his mind and then he nods slowly. “I like the way you look at things.”

He finishes preparing dinner while I share many disconnected, inebriated thoughts with him after he asks me about my mermaid tendencies. Well, my thoughts aren’t disconnected to me. Everything connects in my brain. It makes perfect sense to me to go from telling him about my love of the beach, to my love of sitting in the sun, to my love of bath bombs, to my inability to meditate, to my question over whether I want to ever smoke weed again, to my love of outdoor music festivals. And full points to Owen because he keeps up with my conversation with ease.

He cooks the best Steak au Poivre and roasted vegetables I’ve ever tasted.

We sit at his dining table and eat.

I ask him a million questions about which bands he loves, what books he reads, his favorite movies, and whether he thinks Elvis really is dead. He does. I’m not so convinced.

He asks me a million in return, including why I think romantic comedies are life. I spend a good fifteen minutes educating him on why they far outrank the action flicks he prefers. I’m not sure we come to any agreement on this, so I make a note to myself to revisit this discussion at some point.

After dinner, we clean up together.

It turns out that cleaning up after dinner is code forI want to eat you on the dining table. Poppy was right: I need more lessons because I was not aware of this.

Owen then takes me to bed. With all those pillows he procured for me last night.

When he gets a little strenuous with me, I try hard to tell him not to. I want to help Bradford out with his golf game on Sunday, but really, that’s a lie. What I really want is for Owen to keep giving me the best orgasms of life.

He does, and then he pulls me close, puts his arm around me, and makes it so I don’t need to count my way to sleep.

I think about that. About how I’m spending a lot less time counting since I met Owen.

And I do my best not to think about how fast all of this is happening.

23

Owen

Iwalk into my ensuite just after eight a.m. on Saturday morning to encourage Charlize to finish her shower. She’s been in here for fifteen minutes and while I wouldn’t usually care how long someone showers, we were supposed to leave over an hour ago for our hike.

Music blares from her phone which is sitting on the vanity with Spotify open. If I’m not mistaken, it’s a Taylor Swift song Charlize is singing along to.

When she spots me, she says, “I’m nearly finished. I promise.”

I rest my ass against the vanity and watch her clean herself. It’s taking everything in me not to get in the shower with her, but I know we’ll never make it to our hike if I do. “Do you always play music while you shower?”

“Of course. I’m not sure why everyone doesn’t. Wait, you don’t?”

“I can’t say I ever have.”

“Oh, Owen, your poor, sad life. It’s a good thing you met me so I can help you with that.”

She turns the shower off and pushes the glass door separating us open. I’m helpless but to look at her body as she comes my way. Charlize is all soft curves and beautiful hollows my mouth wants to spend hours in. Today is no exception, so I pick up the towel I put out for her and wrap her in it when she reaches me.

She eyes my hiking pants and shirt. “It’s a pity hiking requires so much skin to be covered up.”

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