Page 78 of Dirty Little Mistake

That was the last message he'd sent.

Camryn: I'm with Owen now.

I hit send and closed out of his messages, praying that one message would end this, but I had a feeling it wouldn't. He'd eventually give up over time, though.

Another notification lit up my screen, drawing an exasperated "Seriously?" from my lips.

But the irritation melted into a grin when I saw Owen's name instead of the one I'd been dreading.

Owen: What are you doing?

Camryn: About to leave practice.

Owen: Perfect timing. I'm out front.

I snatched my dance bag off the bench and bolted through the locker room, down the hall, and out the front doors of the school to see Owen leaning up against his white car wearing his usual black joggers, a team shirt and a black ball cap on backward.

I couldn't help but smile.

Owen pushed off his car, his movements carrying that easy confidence that drew everyone to him. "Hey."

"Hey." I adjusted my dance bag strap, suddenly aware of how sweaty I must look after practice.

He took a step closer, close enough that I caught the faint scent of his cologne. "You got any plans?"

Now that Kaia was pregnant and planning a wedding, I had a lot more free time. "I was going to head home and watch a movie."

He lifted the paper bag, the familiar logo making my empty stomach clench. "You hungry?"

My eyes fixed on the grease spot spreading at the bottom of the bag. "Yeah."

"Hop in." He reached for the door handle with his free hand, keys jingling. A warm breeze caught the edges of the bag as he gestured toward the river with his chin. "We can ride down to the river."

Riverside Park was about five minutes from the school, and it honestly sounded like a perfect date, watching the sunset and eating subs with Owen.

I slid into the passenger side, and Owen backed out of the parking spot before pulling out into traffic.

Owen's fingers drummed a steady pattern against the steering wheel. "How was practice?"

I watched his hands, so steady and sure, nothing like Trystan's restless energy. "It was okay." My muscles ached from pushing too hard, trying to dance away thoughts I couldn't shake. "How about yours?"

The corner of his mouth lifted in that reliable way of his, as predictable as sunrise. "Same."

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, watching streetlights blur past. "I'm kind of exhausted."

The admission felt heavier in the quiet car than I'd intended.

Owen's grip shifted on the steering wheel. From the corner of my eye, I caught him stealing glances at the dark circles I knew lined my eyes. "You stretch yourself pretty thin." He hesitated, then reached over to turn down the radio. "Why do you do so many different activities?"

The question hung in the air between us as I watched a car pass us.

The truth rose up like bile in my throat—so simple to understand, so painful to voice.

"Because I hate being alone." The words came out barely above a whisper, each one feeling like a confession I wasn't ready to make.

As he eased the car into a parking space, his gaze shifted, meeting mine. "I get it." His gaze shifted forward. "Come on, let's go eat."

We strolled through the park, stopping at a picnic table near the river.

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