Saylor

“I’m okay,” I squeak. “Thank you, though!”

The pitter-patter of feet echoes through the hallway before Turner and Grady return with bottles of soda and a couple of packs of Sour Patch Kids. Then they dive into the gray LoveSac couch riddled with blankets, anxious for the movie to start. Their chaos is followed by a much lighter, much more grown-up set of footsteps.

My gaze narrows. “Fancy seeing you again, Skye.”

A wicked smile stretches across Skye’s face as she takes in Owen’s and my cozy position.

“Sorry. I got a little distracted on my phone. Seems like you two did just fine without me, though.”

My face blanches, and my body fills with thick sludge, but I don’t reply.

She’s right.

How the hell did I end up snuggling with Owen before the movie even started? Am I really that weak?

Sensing my discomfort, she flicks off the lights and approaches my side of the couch. Her voice is quiet as she reaches for the remote on the armrest next to me and mutters, “Saylor, chill. I was joking. You’re not doing anything wrong. Just breathe, okay?”

Then she takes her seat in the center of the couch, which leaves me and Owen on one side of the giant U-shaped gray sofa and the boys on the other.

I take a deep breath and try to do exactly that, but Owen’s too close. And I really am weak. Why can’t I find the self-preservation to put some much-needed distance between us? Have I not learned anything? At all?

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I stare blankly at the television screen in front of us.

And that’s when it hits me. It’s because I miss it too much. The closeness. The warmth. The awareness in every nerve that covers my skin, anxious with anticipation. Like an electric current building between us, the friction is almost more than either of us can handle, but the pull is too strong. And when it strikes? It’ll be lightning.

But who in their right mind would want to get struck by lightning? It hurts.

With a long exhale, I rest my elbow against the armrest to give me and Owen a few more inches of space between us. But all it brings is a fresh wave of disappointment.

You did this, Say, I remind myself. You put the distance there. You moved away to give yourself some space.

Then why does it feel so crappy?

“Shall we start?” Skye asks, handing the remote to Owen.

The boys cheer, so Owen presses play on the controller, and we all settle into the movie.

Well, everyone but me, anyway. I can’t focus for the life of me. My spine is still as straight as a pin, while my vision blurs like a watercolor painting. During one of my favorite movies.

What is wrong with me?

“What did I do?” Owen whispers a few minutes later so that only I can hear him.

I glance over at him, then peek around his massive frame to find the boys and my sister completely engrossed in the story.

“Tell me,” he growls.

“Nothing,” I return quietly.

“Liar. Was I coming on too strong?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m fine.”

“Stop lying, Say. I used to know you better than anyone, remember? What’s going on?”

“I’m fine,” I repeat.

“Shh!” Grady interrupts.