"What are you getting at?"
"Well, from the outside, it would be easy to think you or Jasper were dealing drugs out of your apartment," I said. "A steady stream of ever-changing people that never really stick around for long. I could see that being something I would think if it was happening at my neighbor’s."
Owen stretched both hands out on the kitchen island and pressed down hard. "I knew it was going to be something like that. No matter what, people are always going to think I smoke marijuana or do drugs just because I play video games. I swear to God, the stereotypes are the worst part about my career. Even at the tournament, I heard over and over again how surprised people were at how I look. They hear gamer and they think stoner wearing sweatpants and hanging out in a basement."
"So, you think some neighbor found out what you do for a living and just assumed you must be a drug dealer, too?" I asked. "Think about it, there has to be more to it than that."
"No, there doesn't, and that's what really bothers me," Owen said.
"Well, then do something about it," I said. I could not help but be impatient with him. We were just standing around complaining when nothing bad had actually happened to him. Plus, I was working on my own theory that I was shocked he had not even considered.
"What am I supposed to do about it?" Owen asked.
"Do an interview talking about stereotypes. Write a blog post. Get your fellow gamers into a discussion of how negative stereotypes affect them too," I said. "It would give a little balance to the whole 'cops searching your apartment' side of the story."
Owen leaned further down on the island and buried his head in his hands. "It sounds like you think I need to build up a case to prove I'm innocent."
"Well, it wouldn't hurt because obviously someone thinks there’s suspicious activity here at your apartment." I reached out and brushed his hair out of his face. "Too bad they don't see everything that goes on here."
"I'm sorry I accused your father, Quinn. I just feel like someone is out to get me," he said. He stood up an
d joined me on the other side of the kitchen island.
"Or maybe they are trying to pin it on you," I said. Owen did not take my hint. His hands were too busy sliding around my waist.
He pulled me in for a fierce hug. "Thank you for coming. I know I'm probably the last person you wanted to see tonight. I thought maybe your father had convinced you I was no good and that made me think I should give you space at the tournament. I didn't mean to ignore your success or make you feel bad."
"So maybe it wasn't our best day," I said. "Some good came out of it." I wanted to tell him about the rush I felt helping people at the accident scene. I want to confess my idea of becoming an EMT. He could help me sign up for tournaments that paid cash prizes and I would be able to fund the training and certification myself.
Instead, I hugged him and stayed quiet. Owen's mind was too bogged down in his own problems to hear what I had to say. Sienna used to get like that, distant and absorbed in her own world. I remembered the best way to pull her out was to compliment her. Making her remember all her good traits turned her thoughts around.
"For one thing, I had the brilliant idea for you to start a new publicity campaign. Changing the stereotypes of gamers is just the sort of thing you would be the perfect poster boy for," I said. "Handsome, fit, living above ground, and not a single pimple to be seen."
"You'd be better," Owen said. "Young, female, well-educated, well-adjusted, and gorgeous. I know you want to break into the business side of it. Maybe that's just the thing to get you noticed."
"I'm not sure I need to be noticed by anyone besides you."
A slow smile curved his lips. "So, you're not mad at me anymore?"
I traced a teasing circle around his smiling mouth. "Oh, no, I am. But maybe you can think of some way to make it up to me."
He kissed my fingers and the sensation shot up my arm and tingled down my spine. Owen noticed my shiver of delight and caught my hand. He licked his lips and delivered a light yet sizzling kiss to the tip of each finger in turn.
Then, he opened the palm of my hand and dropped a warm, lingering kiss in the middle. I felt his tongue swirl a tight circle and the heat of it unfurled something deep in my core.
"That's all you've got?" I whispered.
Owen smiled as his blue eyes met mine. I felt the magnetized pull of him, but tried to hold back. The anticipation was like tiny fireworks all along my skin, and I wanted to feel more.
He brushed my sleeve back and straightened my bare arm. His warm lips traced a light, skimming path up to the crease of my elbow. There, he let his breath and tongue tickle me until I tried to wriggle free. I did not try so hard that he let go though.
Instead, he reached for the loose neckline of my shirt and pulled it aside. His lips seared the sensitive skin at the side of my neck. I dropped my head to one side, brushing back my hair and baring more for him to devour. Owen took his time tasting my skin, lingering to breathe tingling breaths over the warmth his kisses left behind.
My knees felt weak and my whole body cried out to press against him, but I still held back. The quiet seduction was mesmerizing and I wanted to reciprocate.
I traced a hand up his other arm, following it from my waist to his shoulder. There, I flexed my fingers against the taut muscles of his neck. His blue eyes softened at the massage, and he paused in his slow administrations to let me knead away his stress.
I was still mad at him. Infuriated that no matter what, it was his opinion that mattered most to me. Angry that even as I needed my space, I found myself running to him, pulled so close our breath mingled in gasping anticipation.