Page 12 of Wish You Were Mine
Not that Owen and I were dating—or would ever even go on a date.
He probably wasn’t even interested.
But when we made eye contact again, I couldn’t help but wonder what he thought about me. I was sure that after the whole Josh fiasco, the first impression I’d left him with on Sunday hadn’t been the best.
Though…since I was so much younger than him, he probably hadn’t really thought much about me at all. Our brief interactions probably hadn’t crossed his mind after I drove away in my drunk ex-boyfriend’s fancy car.
“So, are you guys staying here for the weekend?” Nora asked, looking between Miles, Bash, and Owen. “At Ky’s house?”
“Nope,” Miles said, shaking his head. “We’re crashing at the Hastingses’ beach house just down the street.”
“Hastings?” My ears perked up. “Is that the same Hastings that donated a ton of money to the university?” I swear I’d seen their name on half the buildings around campus.
I didn’t know too much about the family since I hadn’t grown up in Eden Falls, but I was pretty sure I’d heard someone say something about them being the billionaires that owned half of the small town.
“That’s them.” Miles nodded. “Their son, Ian, went to school with us, too, and since he and Owen are practically brothers, he got their permission for us to stay at their place. We figured Ky would need the room for other friends staying over tonight.”
“That’s cool,” I said, suddenly even more curious about Owen, who had seemed like a regular bartender just a few minutes ago. But if he was friends with all of these high-profile people—a football star, a pop star, and a billionaire—it made me wonder what kind of background he had.
Did he have a secret, high-profile job that he went to when he wasn’t serving drinks at The Garden?
It sounded like he’d at least gone to the same fancy boarding school that Ky and all these other guys had gone to, so maybe it was just his parents that had the fancy jobs...
As the group went back to filling their plates, my attention was momentarily diverted as I thought whether it was worth it to try and stay with my nutrition plan tonight. I could definitely find a way to get in my protein and veggies with the variety of appetizers on the counter… But since it was New Year’s Eve, it would be okay to have a little cheat day, wouldn’t it?
Seeing that Nora seemed to be having similar thoughts, I started loading my plate with various cheeses, meats, crackers, and plenty of veggies to balance it out, along with a cup of a delicious-looking pineapple punch.
I was taking a sip when Owen stepped up beside me, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder. “Hey, just a heads-up,” he said, his voice lowering. “I saw you drinking water at the club, so I’m not sure if you usually drink, but at one of Ky’s parties a few summers ago, some guys spiked the pineapple punch pretty badly. Just wanted to give you a heads-up in case it’s the same tonight.”
“Oh…” I blinked, glancing at my cup and frowning before taking another sip. The drink tasted like pure, fruity sweetness. “I don’t taste any alcohol,” I said, studying the drink.
“That’s the magic of the pineapple punch,” he replied, his voice casual but knowing. “It’s excellent at masking it.”
“So, are you saying I shouldn’t drink it?” I asked, surprised by his warning. Most guys at school seemed to be on a secret mission to get me really drunk at a party at least once, so it was abnormal to have this near stranger looking out for me.
“Well…” His eyes quickly scanned over me, and then he gave a slight, thoughtful pause before saying, “I guess as long as you’re eating and you only have one cup, you should probably be fine. Two cups though, and you’ll be blacking out.”
“Yikes.”
“I mean…that’s only if it’s been turned into the 'party juice,'” Owen said with a shrug. “Honestly, it could be fine. I just wanted to make sure you knew it probably wasn’t regular pineapple juice.”
“Thanks,” I said, nodding appreciatively, though I was still unsure about the punch. I turned my attention to the bar and surveyed the selection of drinks. It was a little overwhelming, and I definitely didn’t want to risk getting too tipsy tonight. I looked back at him. “Maybe I’ll have something else…”
“What do you usually like?” he asked, leaning against the counter. “I can mix something up for you.”
“Oh,” I said, momentarily surprised by his offer. “I-I guess you’re probably a lot better at that than I am since you do it for a living.”
“Hazard of the job,” he said with a wink.
Was that a flirty wink?I wondered as a flutter of butterflies flapped in my stomach.
Possibly.
But it probably didn’t mean anything—probably just something he did with all the girls he served drinks to.
Likely got him better tips.
But he wasn’t on the clock tonight, so hopefully, he wasn’t pretending to flirt with me for tips.
