Page 114 of Wish You Were Mine
I had back-to-back meets—Friday in Upper Marlboro, Maryland, and Sunday in Philly. The energy was electric, the kind of buzz that made every hour on the bus, every team chant, every sore muscle worth it. And on Sunday, after sticking my landings and not second-guessing myself even once, I somehow walked away with first in the all-around. Our team won, too.
It had been a rush. But by the time we made it back to campus Sunday night, I was wiped. The second my head hit the pillow, I crashed—sleeping harder than I had in weeks.
Owen walked me home again on Monday and Wednesday evenings. And things had been…good. Not as flirty as before, but steady. Comfortable. Like we’d settled into this quiet, unspoken understanding that we cared about each other but also knew we needed to stay in the let’s-be-careful-and-not-do-anything-stupid zone.
Aside from those short walks, our only real interaction thatweek was a quick text exchange on Thursday night where we finalized a few details for Theo’s surprise party.
Theo’s friend: I’m planning to pick Theo up at 5 on Saturday to grab burgers and go ax throwing. You still want me to bring him back around 7?
Me: Yes. I was thinking I could call him around 6:50 to say that a pipe broke or something. That way he won’t be expecting anything when you guys come in.
Theo’s friend: And he’ll hopefully be relieved to see all his friends instead of a flooding house.
Me: Exactly.
I was in Theo’s living room on Saturday evening, building a train track loop with Charlotte, when the doorbell rang. And since I wasn’t supposed to know it was Owen, I called out, saying, “Hey, Theo! I think someone is at the door.”
But there was no answer.
Which made sense since he was upstairs, probably still scrubbing the carpet with his little carpet cleaner, thanks to Charlotte’s naptime rebellion.
I stood and made my way to the front door, pausing just long enough to peek through the side window. And sure enough, it was Owen, standing with his hands in his coat pockets, the late afternoon light casting golden streaks over the sharp lines of his face.
“Hey,” I said, slightly breathless as I pulled the door open to let him in.
“Hey.” His voice was warm, easy, but something about the way his eyes lingered on mine made my stomach flutter.
“Theo should be down in a bit,” I said, stepping aside to let him in. “He’s just, uh…cleaning up the carpet Charlotte peed on.”
“Oh.” Owen winced. “That sounds fun.”
“She took off her pull-up during naptime.” I chuckled, shutting the door behind him. “She’s quite the handful lately.”
Right on cue, Charlotte came running into the room, then skidded to a stop when she spotted Owen. Her little hands clutched at my legs as she peeked up at him with wide, curious eyes.
“You remember your dad’s friend, right?” I said, scooping her into my arms. “You met him at my gymnastics meet a few weeks ago.”
She rested her head shyly on my shoulder and murmured, “Hi.”
His whole face softened. “Hi, Charlotte.”
And the way he said it, with the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, was so freaking adorable I had to stop myself from sighing. Charlotte just stared at him, mesmerized, and I couldn’t help but think:You and me, girl. Because apparently, Archibald girls just had a thing for Owen Park.
His gaze flicked toward the stairs, as if checking for movement, then he turned back to me. “Do you have everything you need for tonight? Or is there anything else you want me to do?”
“I think I’m good,” I said, adjusting Charlotte on my hip. “I’ve got decorations in my trunk and Nora’s on standby to come over as soon as you guys leave. So really, I just need Theo out of here before the caterers show up.”
“What time are they coming?” Owen glanced toward the stairs again.
“Not ‘til six, so we’ve got an hour. I don’t think cleaning up after Charlotte will take that long.”
He smiled and reached out to gently take Charlotte’s tiny hand. “Do you like causing trouble for your daddy?”
“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly.
We both laughed, and when our eyes met, warmth flickered in the space between us—comfortable, easy, a little charged in a way that made me wonder if he’d felt it, too.
Footsteps echoed upstairs, and just like that, Owen straightened. His hands went back to his pockets, shoulders squared. Professor mode: activated.
