Owen sat on the princess-sized bed and gave me a knowing look. “Okay, what’s really going on, Rio Mio?”
I loved his nickname for me, but right now I needed him to see me as something more than Simon’s little sister.
I pushed off the door and stopped in the middle of the room. “I can’t sleep. Thought we could just chat.” I shrugged.
“Sure.”
Please don’t be nice. I need you to treat me like a woman, not a kid.
I sat next to him on the bed.
“I like this,” I said, pointing at the ornamented tattoo that extended from his right bicep to his forearm. “Is it new?”
“Kinda.” Owen ran his hand over the tattoo. My own hands tingled with the need to touch that beautiful bicep and the warm, golden skin.
When I raised my eyes, I met his gaze.
Swallowing, I opened with, “I read in a magazine—”
“Nickelodeonmagazine?” Owen smirked.
“No.Seventeen,” I replied defensively, feeling about twelve years old next to him.
“Just joking. What did you read?” he encouraged.
“That any two people can become friends if they answer five questions honestly.” The article actually said“fall in love”but I couldn’t say that.
Owen scoffed, making me glad I hadn’t quoted the original headline.
When I remained silent, he nudged me with his elbow. “We’re already friends, aren’t we?”
I smiled.
“So? What are the questions?”
I knew he was just humoring me, but I answered anyway. “They were quoting a movie ... So, first one: Describe yourself in three adjectives, not all positive.”
He puckered his lips. “Um ... Ambitious, loyal ...” he paused. “And ambitious.”
“Hey, you said ambitious twice!”
Owen bit his lip. “Ambition gets me where I want to go, but it also means ... I always have to be working toward something. Like if I stop, I’ll lose track of who I’m supposed to be. I don’t know if that even makes sense.”
A twinge shot through my heart. It was only the first question, but I already knew that as for me,Seventeenwas right. I could fall for him. Hard. “You said once that you couldn’t fail. Is that what you mean?”
“Is that one of the five questions?” He lifted one eyebrow and smiled in a challenge.
“No,” I admitted. “The next one is: Where do you see yourself at sixty?”
“So maybe you answer that one,” Owen said.
“Okay. Um ... I see myself living here, but in a beach house. Married, of course.”
“Of course,” he said with a playful grin.
“Three kids,” I continued. “None of them stuttering. And I’ll have a shop that sells ...”—I waved my hand—“something cool. And I’ll lecture people about how to overcome ... stuff. I mean, I still have to overcome it, but ... you know ...” My words trailed off, as did my gaze.
When I finally looked at him I found that special smile on his lips and in his eyes—almost tangibly soft.
