Page 83 of Breakaway Hearts

“I was worried you were leaving.” Owen’s smile is welcoming when I come back to Tab. Bree and Savannah waved on their way out, but Tab is here all night as one of the pledges, who all stand out in neon pink dresses.

“And miss all the fun?” I’m not remotely convincing, but his laugh brings warmth to my chest.

“I’m so excited you’re staying!” Tab is way more genuine.

“Me too.”

Owen doesn’t take his eyes off me, but he hasn’t made a move to come closer. Like he’s trying to gauge whether I’m going to ride him in the parking lot or bite his head off, which…fair.

“Shoot, that’s Frances,” Tab says suddenly. “I’ll find you later,” she promises, then she’s gone.

I’d assume it was staged, but one of her ‘sisters’ is watching her make her way across the room with an intensity that would be laughable if it weren’t so scary.

“Ever consider joining?” Owen asks me.

“For the connections,” I admit, though I would have told most people ‘I wouldn’t be caught dead in that much pink’.

Owen looks surprised, then asks, “For law school?”

“A lot of firms were built in frat houses, client rosters as well, but I don’t think sorority president would hold the same sway in a board meeting…or that’s my misogynistic bias.”

“I never thought of it that way. Tab joined to make my mom happy and go to fancy events, but I guess a lot of these girls will need couture someday.”

“Are you a closet fashionista?” I ask after how casually he said ‘couture’ instead of ‘fancy dresses.’

“I’ll have you know I’ve been walking runways since I was six.”

“Please tell me there’s photographic evidence,” I beg. “Wait, real ones, or⁠—”

“My sister would be so offended to hear how dismissive you are of her early work. And…there are videos.”

I smile, both that he’s admitting that, and how fiercely protective he is of his sister, even when she’s not here. His return smile warms my cold heart.

“It’s nice that she’s always known what she wanted to do.”

“Every time we played hide and seek, I’d find her in the closet,” he agrees.

“Did you always want to play hockey?” I ask before I can stop myself. Knowing stuff complicates things.

“Firefighter was the front runner for a while. My brother let me ride on his truck and I thought it was the coolest thing ever. Other than being a superhero, of course.”

“Never acting?”

He shakes his head, but there’s a tiny wince, like it’s a sore subject.

“I love movies. And some sets were fun, like real world stuff…but the day my dad brought me to the Time Hunters set was the day it hit me none of it was real.” He still looks crushed by that. “To be an actor, I’d have to see how it’s made, be the one convincing people…and I didn’t want to lose the illusion.”

“That’s adorable.”

“I was fifteen,” he deadpans.

“The last movie came out a decade ago.”

He smiles that I caught him.

“Care to dance?”

“This isn’t really—” I go to argue, but Vanilla Moon is playing, and I can’t consider how sweet it is that he remembered, so I take his hand and follow him to the next room, where the music is louder, and a bunch of bodies are crammed into tight quarters, rubbing against each other.