“Puppy,” I greet him, my lips turning up at the sides. Despite knowing I need to stay away, I can’t help but gravitate toward Owen. And I know that’s a bad sign on my end. Not that I’m comparing him to the likes of Beck—I just know I’m nowhere near ready for a relationship or even something casual, especially with a friend of a friend.
“I thought you weren’t a movie person,” he says, his pearly whites on display.
“Let’s just say it’s been a day and I needed to turn my mind off.”
“With Ant Man?” His eyebrows draw together.
I lift a shoulder. “I’ve got no idea, but snacks and a comfy chair were too much to pass up. You?”
“I’m actually here for the movie. I’m a bit of a Marvel fan.”
I nod, hoping it looks as if I know what he’s talking about. But in reality I’m totally lost.
“Marvel?” he says again, clearly sensing my confusion.
A laugh slips out of me. “Sorry, I wasn’t kidding when I said I didn’t know movies. I’ve got no clue what a Marvel is.”
He bites his lips as if he’s trying not to laugh at me. It’s not condescending, but rather adorable. I can’t help myself, letting my gaze roam over his body. Dangerous. Being around him could be dangerous. He’s literally a walking Abercrombie ad with, from what I’ve heard, a heart of gold. A guy like him can do serious damage.
“Well, we better get in there before it starts,” he remarks, cutting through my blatant perusal of him. I’d hide my head in the popcorn bucket if I thought it wouldn’t spill everywhere.
I trail behind him, thanking him as he holds the door for me.
“I’m over here.” I motion with my head. The cinema is surprisingly empty so Owen follows me.
“I doubt they’ll care if I switch,” he says from next to me. “Do you mind?”
“By all means,” I respond, signaling for him to take a seat next to me. I open my Maltesers, then tip them into my popcorn bucket before taking a huge handful and shoving them into my gob.
Owen starts munching himself, both of us settling into a comfortable silence before the adverts commence. I begin to zone out when the movie starts, not really caring for the plot. Owen, on the other hand, seems enthralled, listening to every word, eating it right up.
In some ways he reminds me of a small child at Christmas, his innocent enthusiasm for things like this. I’ve met this man a handful of times and I don’t even know him yet, but the desire to is there.
I spend the better part of two hours inhaling my food and then some of Owen’s when he taps out. I try to pay attention but it’s a lost cause when the characters start shrinking, my mind having no clue what is going on.
Owen makes us stay past the credits, practically on the edge of his seat waiting for little clips of the film at the end. Again, I’ve got no idea what’s going on, but I don’t mind—it was two hours relaxing and vegging out.
“So, what did you think?” he asks as we exit the theater.
“It was good.” I try to lace my words with extra enthusiasm, but I think he sees through it.
“They’re not for everyone.” He shrugs. “I did love it, though.”
“I’m glad, puppy.” I feel a yawn building, quickly catching it with the back of my hand. “I’m knackered. Thanks for the company, but I should get going.”
“Let’s go,” he says, beginning to walk in the direction of my place. Usually this would be a red flag that he knows where I live, but he’s close with Stana so I know he’s not a creep. If anything, he’s the complete opposite. A good lad raised by his mum.
“I can get home myself, you know,” I tell him.
“Oh, I have no doubt,” he replies, voice full of cheer. “But it’s late, and what kind of guy would I be if I let you go home alone?”
“I don’t even know you,” I quip back.
He lifts a shoulder. “Don’t you?”
“Whatever.” I laugh, knowing I’d probably be more comfortable with him than a lot of the other lads I know. Before I can stop myself, I playfully nudge his side, then instantly regret it until that smile of his comes into view. I can’t help but reciprocate.
My stomach does a small somersault, and I know I’ve just crossed some invisible barrier I created for myself.
I decide to ignore it, though, as we walk together in a comfortable silence for about five minutes until my flat comes into view.
I slow down, motioning with my head toward my place. “Well, this is me,” I say, my voice suddenly breathy. Owen stops next to me, turning so we’re facing one another.
We stand close, the tips of our shoes almost touching. Far closer than anyone who’s just met would. It’s intimate, as though somehow we’ve known each other a lifetime. The thought is corny, ridiculous, and something I’d never say. Hell, I wish I had alcohol to blame it on, but alas, Coke is all that’s in my system. Well, that and the fire brewing from his presence.
The warm summer air has a slight wind, brushing tendrils of my hair around. That seems to be the only thing moving.
Owen’s stare digs into my soul, sparking a fire that I thought had been put out months ago. Scratch that—this is a fire I never knew existed. I’m not one to lie about how many people I’ve dated; there have been plenty. But in all that time, I’ve never experienced a pull as intense and quick as the one I feel when I’m with him.
I know, I just know this wouldn’t be nothing. This wouldn’t be your average “one night
