Page 180 of Wish You Were Mine
I typed back quickly.
Me: Same as it’s been all month. Why?
Just because Owen had come to my rescue and been included in my parents’ “keep Lucy safe” conversation last night didn’t mean my dad’s opinion of us had magically changed.
As far as I knew, he still expected my only interactions with my chemistry professor to be the occasional eye contact during his lectures and maybe a question or two if I was stuck on an assignment.
Theo: Sorry. I guess I was hoping that after everything last night, something might have shifted.
Yeah…me too.
I was staring at our text thread, trying to figure out what to say when movement from across the way caught my eye.
As if my spiraling thoughts had conjured him up, Owen stepped through the glass doors.
My breath stalled.
Because how many Monday and Wednesday nights had this exact thing happened?
Owen walking into the student lounge just as my studygroup was winding down…pretending to look busy while waiting to walk me home.
My heart squeezed as I watched him. And I didn’t know whether I wanted him to look my way or not.
Until he did, his eyes finding me immediately. Like he’d been hoping to see me all along.
And when our eyes caught, instead of looking away like he’d done all month, he…smiled.
A real smile. The kind of smile you give a person you’re close to.
One I hadn’t seen since that night everything between us cracked.
And even though I was slightly thrown by his sudden, almost carefree demeanor, my stomach still flipped. I gave him the smallest smile before quickly turning back to my group, pretending like I wasn’t seconds away from unraveling.
Had anyone noticed the flush on my cheeks?
Probably not. Quincy was still flipping through her tablet, Beckett was deep in his notes, and I was doing my best impression of someone who hadn't just made accidental eye contact with the man I hadn’t stopped thinking about for three months straight.
But I could only pretend to focus for so long before my gaze slid back to Owen.
Where was he going tonight?
Dinner in the dining hall? Meeting someone?
He looked...different. Not just physically—though he definitely did. But there was something more relaxed in the way he moved, like the tension he usually carried around his shoulders had temporarily been let go.
Had he changed clothes?
Earlier in class, he'd been in a button-up and slacks. Now, under his light jacket, he wore a fitted black T-shirtand a pair of jeans. The outfit he’d worn the night we first met at The Garden. The shirt I’d once told him he looked amazing in.
Was it the same one?
Why had he changed?
Was he meeting someone? The thought struck me before I could stop it.
Possibly for...a date?
It was around dinner time. Maybe he had a date with someone who worked in this building.
