Four Years Later (One Week Girlfriend 4)

Sitting next to Owen, I wonder what Mom would think if I became involved with him. What would she say if I brought him home and introduced him as my boyfriend? She’d probably tell me to run. I would tell me to run. His home life sounds chaotic. He has drug issues. Drinking issues. School issues. All sorts of issues.

He is an issue … for me. I’m drawn to him despite all the arguments that war inside my too busy, overthinking brain. All the danger signs that I usually bow to, I’m ignoring. Instead I’m just blazing on, fascinated by every little thing he does and says. He’s sitting next to me at the table, concentrating on whatever assignment he’s completing while he stares at his laptop, and I’m preparing a lesson plan for one of the students I’ll meet with tomorrow.

We consumed the Chinese food as soon as it arrived, and I was inordinately pleased by how much he liked it. He raved on, eating enthusiastically while my appetite slowly vanished, replaced with a battlement of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. He makes me nervous in the most delicious, oh-my-God-I-want-him kind of way.

And I’ve never wanted any guy. Never felt that instant connection with one, either. I always figured I’d want someone like … me. Steady and patient and smart. Quiet and shy and kind of nerdy.

Owen is seemingly none of those things. He’s gorgeous and sexy and charismatic. Tall and broad and athletic. Says what he wants and does what he wants—goes after what he wants. He acts like he can do anything.

Is it wrong that I wish he wanted to do me? God, I can feel my cheeks heat just thinking it, let alone I could never say something like that out loud, especially to his face.

I’m a complete weenie. I’ve coasted my entire life in this sort of subexistence. Not really noticed for anything beyond my brain and even then, I hide behind it. My father becomes the biggest scandal in my hometown—heck, in all of California—and still I hide. No one knows Chelsea Simmons.

I never wanted anyone to know me … until Owen.

Mom would think I’d completely lost my mind for even thinking something like this.

“Are you okay?”

His deep voice washes over me and I lift my head to find him watching me, his brows furrowed in concern though his mouth is quirked up on one side. Almost like he’s … laughing at me.

Wariness settles over me like deflective armor and I flick my gaze away from his, focusing on the textbook open in front of me but not really seeing the words. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been staring off into space for, like, the last five minutes at least.” When I look back at him, shock and horror rushing through my veins, he shrugs those impossibly broad shoulders, a sheepish expression on his face. “I was watching you.”

Now I’m gaping at him. He watched me? And just admitted it? “I was …”

“Lost in thought? You looked worried.” He reaches out toward me and I go completely still, my breath lodged in my lungs as he brushes his finger across my lower lip. “I was afraid you’d chew a hole through your lip.”

I want to die. Both at him touching me and at the fact that he called me out on my bad habit.

“I used to chew it so bad I’d make it bleed.” Okay, why did I just go and admit that?

He frowns. “You have that much to worry about?”

I want to laugh. He has no idea. “Kind of.” I need to play this off. “I’ve never really … fit in.” Seriously? Now I’m pointing out my lack of social skills? What is wrong with me?

“I find that hard to believe.” He looks surprised as he leans back in his chair. His T-shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of flat stomach, and my gaze automatically drops to that spot. “Why?”

I’m completely transfixed. There’s a trail of dark hair that starts just below his navel and disappears beneath his jeans. My mouth goes dry and I’m filled with the urge to trace it with my finger. “I’ve always been kind of a nerd. I kept getting tested and the schools kept moving me up a bunch of grades. I graduated high school when I was barely sixteen.”

“Really? So you’re like a genius? How old are you?”

“Almost nineteen. I’m a junior,” I say, knowing that’s going to be his next question.

“Wow. No wonder you’re a tutor.” He laughs and shakes his head. “You make me feel like a complete dumbass.”

I should never have told him. I make everyone feel dumb when they realize what I’m capable of. And really? I’m not capable of much. I’m great at memorization. I have a photographic memory. I’m a fast reader. Big deal. “You’re not a dumbass,” I tell him, my voice gentle.

He settles his chair back onto all four legs, a giant grin on his face. “Did you just say what I think you said?”

“What do you mean?” Then I realize what he’s referring to and I roll my eyes. “Okay, fine, yes. I said a bad word.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say a bad word.” His grin widens and it’s downright irresistible. I can feel my mouth tremble at the corners, ready to break out into a smile. “I’ll have you saying f**k in no time.”

“No way.” I shake my head, my smile blooming despite what he’s saying. “That is like the worst word ever.”

“Not even. It’s more like the most versatile word ever. You can use it in so many ways.” He stretches his arms out, then curls them behind his head, elbows bent, hands linked at his nape. His biceps bulge against the sleeves of his T-shirt and my body goes all fluttery and weak.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Well, it can be an adjective, a verb, a noun. It’s f**king magical.” He laughs when I glare at him. “I’m dead serious.”

“Prove to me all its uses, then.” I may as well turn this into a lesson. I have to go soon and clearly I’m not going to get any more work done, with the way he’s looking at me, talking to me. My concentration is shot.

For once, I don’t really care.

“Well, it can be used as a noun. ‘Chelsea is smart as f**k.’”

Oh my God.

Is he really using it as a noun, though? Even if he’s not, I’m not going to argue with him.

“And then it can be used as an adverb. As in, ‘Chelsea is so f**king smart.’”

I want to laugh but I clamp my lips shut. He knows it, too. The look in his eyes is telling. He’s totally trying to get a reaction out of me but I refuse to give him one.