Chapter 28
HARLOW
My textbook lay open on the floor, mocking me with its diagrams of the brachial plexus. The words kept rearranging themselves into meaningless shapes, my brain refusing to absorb any information that didn’t involve Owen’s hands, mouth, or the way he kissed me goodbye that morning.
Focus, Harlow. You have an exam in three days.
I shifted against the rug on Owen’s living room floor, papers and highlighters scattered around me.
My phone buzzed against my thigh, and I grabbed it.
Syn’s face filled the screen, her black hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun that was slowly escaping. The dark circles under her eyes matched my own.
“You look like shit,” she said by way of greeting.
“Hello to you, too. Really feeling the warmth. The love. The sisterly affection.”
“I’m serious.” She squinted at the camera, leaning closer like she could diagnose me through the screen. “Are you sleeping? You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
“I’ve been studying.” Not technically a lie. I had been studying. Just... not as much as I should have been. “Anatomy is trying to kill me.”
“Eww.” She rolled her eyes. “I hope you’re not spending all your time studying. Please tell me you’re fitting some actual fun into your life.”
That was Syn, always the fun one, the life of every party, the person who could walk into a room full of strangers and leave with twelve new best friends. I was the opposite. Reserved. Quiet.
“How’s everything going over there?” I asked, desperate to redirect the conversation. “How’s Jax and Kaia? How’s my perfect little niece?”
“Everyone’s fine. Kailyn is adorable. Jax is exhausted. Kaia is exhausted. I’m exhausted.” She flopped back against what looked like a mountain of pillows, her phone tilting at a precarious angle. “But that’s not even the worst part.”
“What’s the worst part?”
Her face contorted into an expression of pure, undiluted disgust. “Jax’s new teammate.”
My brows lifted. “New teammate?”
“Some guy who just transferred. Ryat or something.” She waved her hand dismissively, like the mere act of remembering his name was beneath her. “I don’t know. I don’t care enough to retain the information. He’s always here. Always. Like he doesn’t have anywhere else on the entire planet to exist.”
I closed my textbook, sensing this conversation was about to require my full, undivided attention. “What’s wrong with him?”
“What isn’t wrong with him?” Syn sat up. “He’s arrogant. He’s cocky. He walks around like he owns the place, which he doesn’t, by the way. He doesn’t own anything. He’s a guest. An unwanted guest.”
“Okay, but…”
“And he keeps eating my cereal, Harlow. My cereal. I came downstairs yesterday morning, and he was just standing there, eating it straight from the box. With his hands. Like an animal. Like a feral raccoon.”
I pressed my lips together, fighting the smile that was threatening to crack through. “That does sound traumatic.”
“It was. It is. I’m scared for life. I may never recover.” She jabbed a finger at the camera. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“You’re thinking about laughing. I can see it on your face. I know that face.”
“I would never.” I paused, letting a beat pass. “Is he hot?”
Syn’s expression went completely, terrifyingly blank. “Excuse me?”
“Ryat or whatever. Is he hot?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m just asking.”
“He’s...” She stopped. Her jaw tightened. “That’s not the point. The point is that he’s the most annoying person I’ve ever met in my entire life, and I grew up with Trystan, so that’s really saying something.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“Because it’s a stupid question.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “His face is completely irrelevant to this discussion. His personality is a dumpster fire. End of conversation.”
I laughed, unable to help myself. “Wow. Okay. His face is irrelevant. I absolutely, one hundred percent believe you.”
I didn’t believe her. Not even a little.
Syn huffed, but some of the tension drained from her shoulders. She shifted against her pillows, getting comfortable, her expression softening into something more serious.
“Anyway,” she said, “Jax mentioned something happened at the house. Said you thought someone broke in?”
My stomach clenched.
“Oh.” I tried to keep my voice light, casual, unbothered. “That. Yeah. It was nothing.”
“Didn’t sound like nothing. He said you called Owen at midnight, crying.”
Heat crept up my neck. “I wasn’t crying.” I was crying, but I wasn’t going to ever admit that.
“Jax said…”
“Jax exaggerates.” I picked at a loose thread on my sock, avoiding the camera like she might see through my bullshit. “I heard something downstairs. Freaked out a little. But it turned out to be a cat.”
“A cat.”
“A cat. Apparently, I left the garage door and the back door open. The neighbor’s cat snuck in and knocked something over. I panicked and called Owen. He came over and solved the mystery.”
Syn was quiet for a moment, studying me with that look. The one that meant she was worried but trying not to show it.
“Har, that’s really dangerous. Leaving doors open like that. Anyone could have…”
“I know.” The guilt was immediate, thick in my throat. “I know. I just... I hadn’t been sleeping well, and I was exhausted. I could have sworn I closed the garage door, but I didn’t actually watch it go all the way down. Maybe the cat triggered the sensor or something?”
“That’s possible, I guess.”
“It freaked me out enough that Owen offered to let me crash in his spare room. Just until Dad and Liz get back from their trip.”
“Wait.” Syn’s face changed, something sharpening behind her eyes like a predator catching a scent. “You’re staying with Owen? Like, at his apartment?”
“Yeah. It’s only been a couple of days, but we’re making it work.”
“Making it work,” she repeated slowly. “You and Owen. In the same apartment. Alone.”
“There’s a spare room, Syn.”
Technically true. The spare room existed. My stuff was in it. The fact that I hadn’t actually slept there was a detail she didn’t need to know.
And here I was, lying through my teeth.
“How’s that going?” Syn asked, something unreadable in her tone. “Staying with Owen?”
“Not too bad.” I forced a casual shrug. “He’s messier than I expected. Leaves his socks everywhere like he’s marking territory. Has a weird obsession with protein powder that borders on religious. But he’s not a terrible roommate.”
“Mhm.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” She tilted her head, studying me through the screen like I was a puzzle she was trying to solve. “You just seem... different.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know. Happier, maybe?” A pause. “Or more stressed. I genuinely can’t decide which.”
Both. Definitely both. I was riding an emotional roller coaster that swung between deliriously happy and absolutely terrified, sometimes within the span of a single heartbeat.
“It’s just the studying,” I said. “School is brutal this semester.”
God, I hated this. The half-truths. The careful omissions. The way I had to think three steps ahead before every sentence. Syn was my best friend. My person. The one I told everything to, always, without hesitation or filter.
“Right.” She didn’t sound convinced. “School.”
The secret was eating me alive. The weight of it pressed against my chest like a physical thing, making it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to be the person Syn thought I was.
She was my best friend. If I couldn’t tell her, who the hell could I tell?
“Can you keep a secret?”
Syn’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of secret?”
“The kind you can’t tell anyone and I mean anyone, Syn. Not Jax. Not Kaia. Not your new annoying roommate who eats your cereal with his bare hands.”
“He’s not my roommate. He’s an asshole.” But her expression had gone serious, the teasing edge evaporating. “What’s going on, Har?”
“Promise me first.”
“I promise.”
“No, seriously. Promise me. If I tell you this, it stays between us.”
“Harlow.” Her voice softened, worry bleeding through. “You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s actually kind of perfect. That’s the problem.
I took a breath. Let it out slowly.
“Owen and I are kind of... dating.”
Silence.
On screen, Syn’s face cycled through approximately fifteen different expressions: shock, confusion, disbelief, more shock, something that might have been excitement.
“I’m sorry.” She held up a hand. “I think I just hallucinated. Can you repeat that?”
“Owen and I are dating. We’re together like in a relationship. Boyfriend and girlfriend. However, you want to phrase it.”
“Owen.” She blinked rapidly. “Owen Owen. My brother’s best friend, Owen. The Owen who’s been your childhood crush for as long as I’ve known you, Owen.”
“That’s the one.”
“The Owen who dated Cam and then...” She stopped herself, but the damage was already done.
The Owen who dated Cam and then cheated on her.
With me.
Guilt wrapped around my chest and squeezed until I couldn’t breathe.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “That Owen.”
Syn was still staring, her mouth slightly open. Slowly, a grin spread across her face.
“Oh my God.” She actually bounced, her phone shaking with the movement. “Are you serious? This isn’t a joke? You’re not messing with me right now?”
“Not a joke. Please stop bouncing, you’re making me motion sick.”
“This is… I mean… wow.” She ran a hand through her hair, dislodging what remained of her bun.
“I have so many questions. How did this happen? When did this happen? Wait, is that why you’re staying at his apartment?
Is the spare room thing bullshit? Are you sleeping in his bed?
” Her eyes went wide. “You’re sleeping in his bed, aren’t you? ”
“Syn…”
“I knew something was different. I knew it. You had that look on your face, that sparkly thing happening with your eyes. I thought maybe you had finally discovered caffeine or gotten really into skincare, but no…it’s sex.” She gasped. “It’s Owen sex. Oh my god, did he take your…”