My head lifted. “Like… a real date?”
“Yes.” He smirked, that devastating smile that had been wrecking me since I was fourteen years old. “Something I should have done a long time ago.”
I couldn’t even contain my excitement as I climbed off him and practically ran to my room, his laughter following me down the hall.
CHAPTER 29
HARLOW
The driveto El Ranchito took exactly fifty-seven minutes.
I knew because I watched the clock on Owen’s dashboard tick through every single one of them, hyperaware of the way his hand rested on my thigh.
Fifty-seven minutes to get to a restaurant that was in the next county.
My favorite restaurant, sure. But also... conveniently far from campus. Far from anyone who might recognize us.
The restaurant was exactly how I remembered it, with warm terracotta walls strung with colorful papel picado, the smell of sizzling fajitas and fresh tortillas hitting us the moment we walked through the door. A mariachi version of some pop song I couldn’t quite place drifted from speakers hidden somewhere in the ceiling.
“This is your favorite place?” He grabbed a chip from the basket already waiting on our table, scooping up an aggressive amount of salsa. “It’s very... colorful.”
“That’s part of the charm.” I reached for my own chip and dunked it. “The food is incredible. Trust me.”
“I trust you.” He said it easily, but something in his eyes made my chest tighten. “That’s why we’re here.”
Right. Because it was my favorite. Not because it was an hour away from anyone who knew us.
Stop it, Harlow. You’re being ridiculous.
The server appeared, a young guy with a bright smile who took our drink orders and rattled off the specials with the enthusiasm of someone who genuinely loved his job. Owen ordered a beer. I ordered a Dr. Pepper, because I was still underage and I knew they carded.
“So.” Owen leaned back in the booth, one arm draped across the back of the seat, looking unfairly relaxed. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
“You know everything about me.”
“I know a lot. Not everything.” His eyes sparkled with challenge. “There’s gotta be something. A secret hobby. A weird fear. That time you committed a minor felony and never told anyone.”
“I have never committed a felony, minor or otherwise.”
“That’s exactly what someone who committed a felony would say.”
I laughed, the tension in my shoulders easing. This was easy. This was the Owen I fell for, charming and ridiculous and capable of making me forget why I was ever anxious in the first place.
“Fine.” I pretended to think, tapping my finger against my chin. “I’m terrified of driving over bridges.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Bridges.”
“It’s not rational. The second my tires hit that first expansion joint, my brain is convinced the whole thing is going to collapse into the water below. Doesn’t matter if it’s a massive suspension bridge or one of those tiny ones over a creek. I white-knuckle the steering wheel and hold my breath until I’m back on solid ground.”
“Tiny creek bridges.” He was fighting a grin and losing badly. “You’re afraid of tiny creek bridges.”
“You asked for a weird fear. I delivered.”
“You definitely delivered.” He shook his head, still smiling. “Okay, my turn. I can’t whistle.”
“What do you mean you can’t whistle?”
“I mean exactly that. I’ve tried. Multiple times. Various techniques. YouTube tutorials. Nothing works.” He demonstrated, pursing his lips and producing a sound that was less whistle and more asthmatic wheeze. “See? Broken.”
