Chapter 12 - Trina
In the days that follow our incident in the woods, I manage to avoid Owen.
Not completely, but enough that he doesn’t have time to bring up the subject of sex again.
As I get ready for work, I listen carefully to him moving around in the house, wondering if I should make an effort to go to breakfast with him.
He’s been very good about everything so far… he hasn’t even brought up the night we—
I cut my thoughts off right there, focusing on getting dressed so I don’t have to think. The night I fell asleep in Owen’s arms was one of the best nights of my life, and that’s not something I’m ready to deal with yet.
For a brief time, I felt truly safe. I know it’s an illusion, though. It always is—and Owen kidnapped me, for fuck’s sake.
I can still hear him moving around in the kitchen, but I decide to face my fears and have breakfast with him. I’m so distracted by my own thoughts that I don’t hear him talking until I’m right in the doorway.
“Yes,” he says. “I understand. How many new cases? Five? And last night… how many died? Three. Too many.”
I stand in the kitchen doorway, my hands turning cold as my heart seems to stop in my chest. I haven’t been paying attention to what’s been happening with the pack, even though I know I really should.
It’s just too difficult for me. I feel for these people, I really do, but it’s my dignity on the line. My body and my soul. Do I owe them that? It’s all I have left, and I wouldn’t ask anyone else to sacrifice themselves for me.
Owen finishes the call, turns around, and sees me standing there. He reacts with surprise, but I can tell he’s too tired and defeated to really respond.
“Hi,” I say softly.
“Hi,” he replies, nodding.
We stand there in silence for a few seconds. I feel like if I move, the world around me will shatter into chaos. I don’t know the way forward from here—a path that could save his people without destroying me.
Owen sighs, and the spell is broken, at least for the moment. I come into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, and it feels like an ordinary day again, just with stressful undertones.
I come back to the table and Owen is sitting down already, but he’s not eating or touching his coffee. He just sits slumped forward in his chair, his head in his hands. I look him over with concern, seeing his rumpled clothes and the shadows under his eyes.
He hasn’t slept properly for days.
My heart twists in my chest, and I realize I just can’t go on like this. I can’t stand knowing that his people are dying and he is slowly falling apart—especially when there is something I could do that might prevent it.
“Owen,” I say gently.
“Hmm?” he mumbles, not looking up.
“I’ve decided… well. I think we should try, um…”
Owen lifts his head, and his beautiful green eyes, usually so deep and vibrant, look pale and shallow, like the color has been drained out of them.
He looks so exhausted, I want to just go to him and put my arms around him, to take that hurt away, but I’m afraid to get close to him.
I don’t want him to see my attempt to ease his pain as a sign that I’m happy in this partnership.
But do I want to simply comfort him, just like I would any person who is hurting, or am I making excuses to touch him?
I sigh deeply, feeling my breath reach the absolute bottom of my chest as I dredge up the words I don’t want to say.
“I think we should try sleeping together,” I say in a rush. “Sex,” I add the last word hastily, not wanting to create worse confusion.
Owen stares at me for a minute. At first, his expression doesn’t change, then he shakes his head.
“I don’t—I mean, are you sure?”
“Yes,” I say firmly, knowing damn well I’m not. “I think it’s the only thing left to do. I’ll agree to it, but it will only happen once, and then we’ll wait for results. What do you think?”
He nods, and it seems to me as if he hasn’t really absorbed my words. “I have to go to the infirmary,” he says. “Do you need a ride to work?”
“No,” I answer. “Lacey is coming to get me.”
I almost mentioned that I can’t skip work because of Angela, but I don’t want to bring up her name again, so I don’t bother.
“I’ll meet up with you this afternoon, then,” he says. “See you later.”
He waves as he leaves the room, and the second I’m alone, the full weight of the situation hits me.
When I get back this afternoon, we’re going to have sex.
Nerves start to build in my guts, but thankfully, I hear the horn honk out front. I run out to greet Lacey.
***
At work, I try to push away my anxiety for the rest of the day, which isn’t too difficult considering how busy we are at the museum.
On the way home, every single roll of the wheels seems to kick my anxiety even higher into gear.
I consider telling Lacey to just keep driving and take me somewhere—anywhere—but I know that won’t free me from this.
I’ll just be dragging it out. The anxiety will never end. I have to do it.
I put on a brave smile for Lacey and wave goodbye, trying to turn back to the house with my expression intact, but by the time I’d gotten to the door, nerves had taken over my body again. When I go inside, I see Owen in the living room, and my heart leaps into my throat.
Are we going to do this right now? Like, immediately?
I walk slowly into the living room, wondering if I’m about to get tackled. To my surprise, Owen is wearing fitted black pants, a dark gray shirt, and a nicely cut jacket.
“Hi,” he says, looking tired but slightly better than he did this morning. “Would you like to go out to dinner? I’ve got a reservation for us, and there’s plenty of time for you to get ready if you’d like to go.”
I stare at him in disbelief for a moment, and his face hardens as he stares right back.
“If you don’t want to—”
“No, no, I do,” I answer, quickly. “Let me go and change, and we’ll go. I was just surprised, that’s all. I’d love to go out for dinner.”
“Okay, good,” he says, smiling. “I’ll wait for you.”
As I hurry down the hall, I can’t stop the little flutters of excitement in my belly.
It’s been a very long time since anyone took me on a date, and I take some time with my makeup and hair.
I go through my clothes carefully, choosing a pretty red dress I’ve rarely worn because the right occasion for it never came up.
I’m almost skipping up the hall to meet Owen, and his face brightens with a big smile as soon as he sees me.
“You look lovely,” he says.
“Thank you. You look a bit fancy yourself.”
“I try,” he laughs, a little shyly.
I can’t think of anything to say, and the awkwardness settles on top of us again. Owen leads the way out to the car. On the drive to the restaurant, neither of us can find anything to say, which kills my bright mood.
Well, it looks like this is going to be a magical evening.
When we get to the restaurant and go inside, my excitement spikes again. It’s a nice, just slightly upscale place, casual enough that I don’t feel self-conscious but fancy enough that I definitely feel pampered.
“Do you know what kind of wine you’d like?” Owen asks as we’re seated.
I shake my head. “I’m not good with names or brands,” I say. “I get cocktails or mixers when I go out. Wine was never my thing.”
“I’ll order a nice sparkling for us,” Owen says. “But feel free to order anything you like.”
“Thank you,” I reply, feeling drawn in by his smile and magnetic gaze.
This is the nicest he’s ever been to me. The way I’ve seen him interact with other people—practically everyone else but me!
Owen tries to start up a conversation a few times, and even though I’m affected by his charm, it starts to grate on me. Finally, when we’re both almost finished the main course, I can’t take it anymore.
“Owen,” I say, carefully speaking his name so I don’t sound completely exasperated.
“Yes?” he says with an easy, friendly smile.
“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I appreciate this, I really do, but it doesn’t change anything.”
He frowns. “I don’t understand.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, wondering if he’s playing or really doesn’t get it. “This is a forced arrangement. As nice as it is that you’re going to this amount of effort, I can’t pretend this is just a fun date.”
“Oh?” he asks, and he looks genuinely curious, as if he has no idea what I’m talking about.
“When we have sex,” I whisper, leaning forward and looking around a little furtively, “it will be just that. Cold, clinical, quick. Don’t fool yourself that I’m into this.”
Owen stares at me for a moment, his eyes going cold as his face sets into a hard expression. “I understand,” he says. “I was just trying to do something nice for you. For both of us.”
“Like I said, I appreciate that, but it doesn’t change the facts. We aren’t lovers and never will be.”
His eyes glint with an icy glare, and I can see his barriers coming up again. “You don’t have to keep repeating it. I get it.”
“Okay, then. Good.”
“Do you want to stay for dessert?”
I do, and I don’t want to reject his gesture. But at the same time, I know I won’t enjoy it under these conditions, so I just shake my head, and we get ready to leave.
For the entire drive home, I’m completely silent. Owen looks over at me every now and then, but I keep my arms crossed and my eyes focused out the window, deliberately rebuffing any attempt at conversation.
I didn’t think things between us could get any more awkward, but here we are.
When we pull up at the house, I feel frozen in place. Panic is stampeding through my veins, freezing my heart and seizing up my muscles. I get out of the car slowly, fully expecting my legs to fail me at some point.