Page 81 of Wish You Were Mine
I was still calculating my exit plan when Owen’s bedroom door creaked open. I turned quickly, heart jerking like I’d been caught doing something wrong.
He stepped out wearing a worn gray T-shirt and the same sweats he had on last night, his hair slightly mussed like he’d just woken up.
He blinked at me, his expression somewhere between surprise and a kind of awkward tension. “Uh, good morning.”
“Morning,” I said, my voice scratchy with sleep and way too much self-awareness.
“I was just about to make some breakfast—eggs, toast.” He looked around awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure what the protocol was for accidental overnight guests who were also your students. He cleared his throat. “You want some?”
“That’s really nice,” I said quickly, standing and brushing imaginary lint off my jeans, “but I should go. I promise I didn’t mean to sleep here. I really wasn’t…trying to stay over.”
“It’s okay.” His brows pulled together. “You were exhausted. Had a scare. It was…fine. No problem.”
“Okay…” I shifted my weight like I was auditioning for Most Awkward Exit Ever. “Again, I promise it wasn’t on purpose.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said gently, stepping toward the fridge and pulling out things. “I’m glad you felt like you could come here. I know things have been…complicated, but I want you to be safe.”
Something in my chest gave a little tug at that. “Thanks.”
I looked around, like maybe the couch or the blanket could give me a clue on what to do next. A huge part of me didn’t want to leave.Even if I know I should.
“You sure you don’t want anything to eat before you head out?” He nodded toward the counter where eggs, sourdoughbread, and half an avocado were now laid out like the world’s most wholesome trap.
Tempting. Stupidly tempting.
But no. I couldn’t stay. Not when he looked that good in gray sweats, with his sleepy eyes and that soft, scruffy jaw that had absolutely no right to make my pulse spike.
And I definitely couldn’t stay in the same clothes I’d worn yesterday with mascara probably smudged halfway down my face.
“I probably look terrible right now,” I muttered under my breath.
“You look just fine,” he said.
Which meant he’d totally heard me.
Oh well. At least I lookedfine.
“Thanks,” I said, forcing myself to take a step back. “But I should go. I still need to shower and get ready before class.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay. Well…I guess I’ll see you later on, then.”
“In chemistry,” I said, my voice faint as I grabbed my backpack. “Have a good day.”
“You too.”
I walked to the door, my hand hesitating on the knob before finally turning it. Then I cracked it open just an inch and peeked outside.
No one in sight.
Good.
Slipping out quickly, I pulled the door shut behind me and hurried down the steps, my pulse only calming once I’d made it half a block away—far enough from Owen’s apartment that hopefully, no one would connect the dots.
Still, as I walked toward my place in the early morning quiet, I couldn’t help but feel like the dots were already connecting inside me.
And that…well, that was the most dangerous part of all.
Nora and I were sitting side by side on the mats in the gym an hour later, reaching for our toes in a slow hamstring stretch, the smell of chalk and sweat already in the air.
