Page 34 of Resonance
Iona smiled and stepped back, glancing out at the driveway.
“I like Owen.” Her gaze met mine. “I like the pair of you. Each one as lost seeming as the other.”
I pondered that statement all the way to the truck where, when I slid inside and cranked the engine, Owen plugged his phone right in and cranked the volume on the Bee Gee’s “Stayin’ Alive” with a grin.
* * *
We got backto Nashville at twilight, rode in on I-40 with the apex of the Bellsouth bat ears tipped in orange and gold. “Need help with anything?” I offered once we sat in Owen’s driveway, and knowing he didn’t.
His mouth twitched with mischief. “Don’t go ruining everything by actually being gentlemanly now.”
“I have always been and will always be a gentleman.”
He snorted, and I decided I needed to tack on an addendum. “In most cases.” There’d been nothing about last night that’d been gentlemanly. It’d hardly even been civilized the way I’d had his knees bent up in that bed, the nail marks he’d left in the meat of my shoulders. A stray tendril of heat coiled around my spine at the memory.
I put the truck into park, and we sat there for a minute, listening to the rattle and whir of the heater, Owen pulling his phone from the auxiliary input and twisting the cord around his wrist. I thought I should say something else maybe, but he spoke first, pulling one leg up on the seat as he angled toward me.
“Maybe it’s weird to say I had fun since it was a pretty heavy trip, overall. And I definitely didn’t know I’d be in for so many feels being flung around when we set off. But there were parts that were fun.” He waggled his brows and then gripped the door handle. “And I don’t mean just the… yeah. The karaoke was fun, too. Thanks for asking me along. See you when I see you, I guess.”
I blinked at the influx and caught hold of the tail end of it. “You’re on the schedule for tomorrow.”
“So then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yep.”
He kicked open the door of the truck and slid from the cab, shutting the front door before opening the back to grab his bag. I twisted around in my seat to reach and nudge the thing closer.
Owen grabbed the bag, then paused. “Do you… would you want to come in for a minute?”
Why?was the thought that flashed in my mind. What came out was “Okay.”
I turned the truck off and kept the keys in my hand as I followed him up to his apartment.
The door stuck in the jamb, and he wiggled the handle as he smacked just above the lock in a move that seemed practiced.
The air inside was slightly stale, like old carpet and dust. Owen left the door open behind us as he flipped on a small lamp on a wooden crate next to a futon with a garish pattern of paint splashes. “You want something to drink?”
Over his shoulder was a little kitchenette with one of those vintage-look fridges. There weren’t any photographs on it. Nor were there any on the walls. I didn’t know if that was odd or not. Ru and Quinn had photographs. Les and Evan. Me. But mine were old family photographs mostly. Nothing recent. Maybe we were both in that transient in-between stage where it felt like nothing momentous had happened worth documenting.
A quiet pang rattled through me, and I pushed the thought aside. Too much speculation, probably brought on by the trip and lack of sleep.
“No, I’m all right,” I said after a moment. “Thanks.”
Owen twisted one hand over the fingers of the other and then laughed. “I don’t really know why I invited you up here now.”
“I don’t know why I came.” When a muscle at his jaw fluttered, I hastened to tack on, “I just mean…” I didn’t know what I meant, except that I hadn’t intended to hurt his feelings or make him feel bad. Goddamn the way I got tongue-tied around him sometimes.
“I thought you might be curious, I guess. Like, about where I live.”
“I am,” I said, nodding emphatically, which I realized was true. More than curious, I struggled with the desire to linger in his presence, reluctant to return to “status quo.” Not just yet.
“Looks so dingy now after Ryder’s.” His shoulders lifted in an affable shrug as his eyes moved toward the ceiling. I tracked their passage over a few stains and bubbles in the paint.
“Nah.” I took a couple of steps forward and bent to poke a duo of throw pillows on the futon. One had a red and purple check mark pattern. The other was decked in sequins, some indigo and some a violent yellow that looked like they were put on the wrong way. Owen reached around me, brushing his hand up from the bottom until the pattern became a gold sun. Then he did it the other way, revealing a storm cloud.
“Ru got me that as a housewarming present.”
“Housewarming present, huh?”