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Gemma sighed as she arrived at the front door of the apartment she shared with Oliver. She dug through her purse and finally found her key. She pushed it into the lock and went inside, dropping her school bag on the floor and kicking off her shoes. "I'm home!" she shouted, making her way into the kitchen to search for some food. She shopped inside the fridge for a few minutes, finally settling on making an omelette for dinner. She grabbed the necessary ingredients and began cooking away, stomach growling as she went along. After a good half hour had gone by, she went to investigate why Oliver hadn't come out to see her yet. She checked the clock - 7 PM, so he should be home. She went down the hall to his room and knocked on the door loudly, hearing not only Oliver's voice on the other side of the door but also a female voice that she didn't recognize. When no one seemed to answer her knock, she shouted, "I'm making eggs, if anyone wants any!" She heard the commotion stop and a grin grew on her face. She had definitely been heard that time. Before anyone could plow through the door and beat her to a pulp, she ran back to the kitchen and finished making her omelette. She made a mental note to swing by the grocery store the next morning to pick up some food, as she knew that no matter how many times she told Oliver to pick something up he never did it.

 

Owen shook his head as he opened the door to their apartment, slamming it shut behind him. It was entirely possible that he'd hit rock bottom - he'd been kicked out of his best friend's party only moments before, and the girl that he was planning to spend the evening with had a sudden change of heart. He hadn't gotten a call from his agent in weeks, which meant he was broke and had no chance of any income any time soon. Thoroughly angry, he went into the kitchen and took a beer from the fridge. He went in his room and came face-to-face with a picture frame on his dresser that he'd never taken down. It was a picture of him and his ex-girlfriend, Melissa. She'd done some bad things and had smashed his heart into a million pieces when he tried to help her turn her life around; to this day he'd never really been able to recover completely. He got up and threw the picture frame against the wall, slightly surprised at how the glass completely shattered and managed to scatter across his room. "Damn it," he grumbled, angry that he would have to find all of the shards in order to avoid any injuries. Too many things had gone badly in his life these past few months, and he knew that it was time for change. He just didn't know how to get started. He searched high and low for the pieces of the frame and dumped them in his trash can, along with the picture. He felt slightly rejuvenated, liberated almost, but he wasn't anywhere near feeling 100% like his old self.  

 

 

Oliver had been out that day. He'd gotten home about an hour ago with Hazel, the girl he'd been out with. He'd met Hazel at some after party last week and found her spunky attitude quite attractive. It didn't do her body much justice, however, considering she was practically every man's dream. Then enter Gemma, best friend of his baby sister and his roommate ever since Jules moved out. He'd always found her interesting, always found her very alluring, but for some reason, she seemed to stray from him a bit. Sure, she was a great friend to him, but no matter how hard he tried, she always ended up two steps behind where he wanted to be. Maybe Jules said something to her. Who knows. If this was the case, then he was actually a bit appalled. Jules knew he wasn't like that anymore, not since he overdosed. Well, he wasn't into drugs or alcohol anymore, or even parties so much. He was very much into girls, though, as they gave him some sense of feeling. The drugs had left him incapable of actual emotion, so therefore self pleasure was how close he presumed he would ever get to feeling anything ever again. Gemma knocked on the door, and he rolled his eyes, ignoring it at first, and Hazel was happy to oblige. But at the mention of food, he suddenly realized he was starving and that she wasn't planning on leaving him alone. Hazel was a bit annoyed, but it's not like he could care if he even wanted to, so he pulled his jeans back on, but didn't bother with the shirt. He was toned but slim, the muscles defined nicely and evenly throughout his body. Hazel relieved him of his shirt and he found it almost comical how long it really was on her. He led her out the door, his hand sliding under the hem of the shirt and rubbing circles on the bare skin of her back, as he was still a bit worked up from before. He found Gemma cooking away at the stove, making omelettes for three, and he pulled out stools for both himself and for Hazel. "Gemma, Hazel. Hazel, Gemma. Thanks for dinner. I was, uh. Preoccupied." he muttered, and Hazel laughed. He cringed a bit. Her laugh was high pitched and irksome.

Owen's glance quickly turned to meet Venus' when she entered his room. He stood up abruptly, realizing how barbaric his behavior had been for the past few minutes. He was running around his room like a mad man, pushing things off of his dressers and throwing articles of clothing from one corner to the other. His breath suddenly hitched in his throat - he'd been discovered. He never even considered the idea that she would be home when he arrived, and now, here he was, throwing a temper tantrum like a four year old. His immediate reaction was to scream and tell her to get out of his room, but something clicked and he knew that wouldn't help the situation at all. Instead, he backed up slowly and put his hands in the air, surrendering and waving a figurative white flag. "Thank you," he mumbled under his breath as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, watching as she swooped around the room and removed the remaining traces of the frame. When she finished, he finally came to and realized the immense pain he was feeling on his palms - small pieces of glass had nicked his skin and caused a series of paper cuts all over the surface. His heart rate sped up when she sat down beside him. This was it; he would have to explain everything to her and she probably wouldn't understand a word of it. He had no clue what she had been through in the past. For all he knew, she wouldn't be able to relate to his problems at all. "For the record," he began slowly, avoiding her glance, "I'm not usually this open about anything. In fact, half of the time I feel so frozen and unsure about everything that I don't even know what I'm supposed to be thinking, let alone what I actually am." He was surprised at how he was able to remain calm and composed, despite the churning of his stomach and how he had no way to prepare for this. He took one last swig of his beer and tossed the empty bottle across the room and into the trash can, where it made a loud noise as it clinked against many of the other bottles. If that wasn't an indicator of how he had been feeling lately, he didn't know what was. "Life has me worked up, Venus. Or my lack of a life, I guess you could say. I haven't worked in weeks, I have no money, my friends have pretty much left me to die, and I can't do anything right. Every time I try to recover from Melissa I just dig myself deeper into a hole. I can't figure out what I'm doing wrong, and I don't want to pull anyone else down with me. I've removed myself completely and I can't... I can't keep going on like this, like there's nothing wrong. Everything is wrong."

She had to be careful about this one, she did. Any word she said could either set him off or even herself, if she tried hard enough. The medication helped to control it, but overall she was still the rock of her emotions, the giant power source for her own behavior. In a way, she was trapped. She was trapped in the body of her own personal hurricane, emotions always whipping around and around her at all times. Sometimes, when she was sitting by herself and left to rot in the sorrows of her own pathetic mind, she wondered how heavenly it must be to be trapped inside of a sociopathic mindset, instead. Indifference would overtake anything else she tried to feel. She wouldn't give a damn if her parents had dangled her off a bridge, she wouldn't care if she'd gotten the scars, because the pain would have transformed into adrenaline. But no, here she was, talking to a man who she'd been warned against even breathing in the same room as who was having his own pit of misery and self consciousness finally catch up with him, and she was about to boil over, as well. But no, she refused to let it happen, refused to really show emotion at all as she dabbed at the cuts for remaining flecks of glass with the antiseptic. "You're falling down a void, one that's not very fun to get out of." she commented, in response to his earlier comments. "You feel like it's all your fault because you had no control over the situation, whether you realize that fact or not. Don't blame yourself for something you really couldn't control, because no matter how much you might want to believe it, you couldn't read her mind. You don't know what she was thinking or what went through her head. She could have..." She cut herself off there, sure he knew what she was about to say but not wanting him to suddenly get angry again. So instead, she switched the topic to the question she had brought up, and he had responded to. She still had to be careful about what she said, as she wasn't open whatsoever. She was quite the opposite, a closed book, and she never really answered things the way people would expect her to. "I asked for the sake of asking, rather than to answer." she said, more as a joke to throw him off track, which is exactly what happened. She watched him as he became distracted with her words, briefly taken away from his own issues as he had to focus on this recent situation. "Just kidding. Sort of. Anyway, I don't think I've ever really truly been happy, for a variety of reasons. If I have, then I don't remember it. But recently...remember Daniel? The one Emma was so set on keeping me away from, even more than you?" She laughed a little and he rolled his eyes, but still smiled a little. He nodded and she continued. "I know you sort of helped, but I don't think you ever knew why he was even put away in the first place, or why I kept him around. He was nothing but disrespectful when he came over. Really disheartening to think I would stoop to such a low." she muttered, then snapped out of it. "He, um, he raped me. More than once, and I just couldn't bring myself to leave him or tell anybody about it until a few months ago..." she said, and she instantly both felt regretful and relieved. She was relieved of one more burden, one less thing to carry on her own two shoulders and letting it go. But the regret came from the unnerving silence that followed. He just looked so shocked, and then he looked absolutely disgusted, and she couldn't tell whether it was at her or not. Obviously she hoped it wasn't, prayed he wasn't looking at her that way, but she could see why he would. Why would she subject herself to such treatment and just not tell anybody about it? If anything, she was bringing it upon herself if she wouldn't do anything about it. She but her lip, refusing to let her guard down more than she already had and rebuilding the wall she'd let some light shed through. She tightened the bandages once more, avoiding his eyes, and she could feel them boring into her, incredulous. "Sorry. I just...yeah." she finished, aware of how pathetic she sounded. Instead of digging herself deeper into humiliation, she straightened herself out, and Owen did the same. The bathroom wasn't exactly spacious, so she was sort of pressed against the wall with him extremely close. It didn't help that he had reached out to touch her arm or something, so the closeness felt even worse than it looked. She felt like she was shrinking against the wall, like a little kid as she stared up at him into his big eyes, which looked far more concerned than she was used to. 

 

Amusement flickered in his pale eyes as Gemma suddenly became very angry. He could see right through what she was doing, however. He could tell before it even happened that she would react this way, and little did she know that she was giving him exactly what he wanted. He liked her attitude more than he should have, though. It turned him on just enough, got his senses a bit more acute to her body language. "I'm not the one who has the problem here, Gemma. In fact, I think  right at this moment you're the one with so many issues. I'm not trying to seduce you whatsoever. I'm just being as much of a bitch as you just were." He smirked as she continued talking, rolled his eyes a bit at her final comment. "You don't really know why I even have my little 'act', though, do you?" he asked her, and she sort of stopped to look at him. "You act like I'm the worst man on the face of the earth, and then you tell me that I'm not repulsive and nice to look at?" he asked, amused, changing the subject abruptly. His eyes glinted once more and a small shots of a smile flashed before he reached out again, her hips soft in his hands as he pulled her close. He then spun her around and had her up against the wall, his hands pressed to the drywall around her. He looked her in the eyes, his breath warm and sweet, and he grinned humorlessly. "I know for damn sure that I'm bothering you. No matter how badly you want to sit here and act like I'm not, like I'm the reason this is happening whatsoever, you know that none of its true." His eyes closed for a second and his lips were quite close to hers, close enough that he could feel her tense up and hold her breath. "I find you nice to look at, too, you know. I always have." His eyes opened and watched her for a reaction, and one hand reached down to trace the outline of her cheeks with a finger tip. "I always want them gone." he muttered, then pulled away, fully satisfied with himself. He could see the blush rise in her cheeks, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it. Of course, this was all just to joke around, in his own twisted mind, but he couldn't ignore the fact that he actually enjoyed the closeness. He actually really did find her very alluring, in more ways than one, and that he liked it when she was trying so hard to help herself. But he brushed away these thoughts as he turned and surveyed the room, never having really been in here much. "It's something my sister said to you, isn't it?" he asked her, still scanning the room.

Gemma's eyes widened again as she felt his fingers come back into contact with her hips. Round 2, she guessed, and she wasn't quite sure if she liked the idea. Part of her was actually hoping that they could just wake up the next morning and forget all about everything that had happened the night before. Of course, this was Oliver she was talking about. He never forgot anything - well, except for when it was his turn to get groceries. She was shocked when she spun around and he didn't make a move for a long time. For a man that was used to getting things done quickly and the right way the first time, he really wasn't acting like himself. This was it. She would have to do something drastic, something bold enough to catch him off guard so that he could finally get out of her sight and they could put an end to all of this, bury the hatchet. The only way she could think to do this was to press her lips against his, which was exactly what she did. At first, she tried to remain calm, giving him a delicate kiss, but her endorphins surged and a strong shiver went up her spine. Before she could convince herself to do otherwise, her lips completely locked with his in a mix of passion and pure bliss. She had truly never experienced anything like this before. She was used to sloppy, unappreciated smooches from men drunk out the wazoo at the parties she went to many moons ago. But this, with Oliver, was completely different. Time seemed to slow to a stop as their bodies approached each other like a set of strong magnets. Her attention to where his hands roamed on her body vanished and all that she was able to focus on was her attempt to breathe deeply in between each passionate kiss. It wasn't long before the couple had stumbled over and landed on her bed. Her fingers tangled in his locks and she enjoyed the sensation as his hands moved between the small of her back and the sensitive skin of her hips. At some point, after many minutes had passed, she was finally able to pull apart from him and was smacked in the face with a reality check. "Hell if I know," she replied, her voice a whisper before she let out a small giggle, "but I like it." She showed him a mischievous grin and her gaze fell away from his eyes to his chest. She sat in awe for a moment, amazed at how their breathing rates had synchronized. She reached up and placed her lips against his for one final kiss as she felt his fingertips trail up and down the length of her torso. She let out a quiet whimper when he removed her hands from her body. It took her a minute to realize that she had done so; it wasn't until she noticed the look on his face that she knew she had made such a sound. "Oh, my God," she mumbled, face flushing as she became a bit embarrassed. She buried her face in her hands. "This was... I can't... we're just..." She couldn't find the words to express what she was feeling. "We're in too deep, Oliver. Do you realize what we just did?"

 

Owen couldn't deny the emptiness he felt when he finally pulled away. He instantly regretted that he had done so, wishing that he had held on for just a few more glorious seconds. He noticed a sudden change in Venus' behavior when the two separated. She stood up taller and seemed strangely more confident in herself than she had minutes before. It was as if their embrace had flicked on a switch for both of them. He felt an attraction to her and she appeared to be at peace. When she made a comment about what he had said, he displayed a small smirk before he watched her leave the bathroom. He went into his room and stuffed his wallet and phone into his pockets. He slid on a pair of his signature shoes and a loose brown leather jacket. If there was one thing that he hated, truly disliked, it was the cold. Winter was a nightmare, especially when there was snow and ice involved. Luckily, they wouldn't be encountering a blizzard any time soon, just the crisp, cool nighttime air. When they reached for the door handle at the same time, he pulled his hand back quickly, almost as if he had been subjected to a static shock. She did the same and then he went for the handle again, this time pulling it open for her. He followed her out and locked the door behind them. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket as they walked. "There's a place around the corner, I've got a few buddies that work there. They make a mean pepperoni pie, it's to die for," he advised her. They took the short walk to the restaurant and went inside. The door knocked against some bells on the ceiling, alerting the kitchen staff that customers had entered the building, and he was surprised to find that the large room was almost completely vacant. "For a Friday night, this place is deserted!" he remarked as they walked up to the counter. He frowned when a man came out from the kitchen, someone that he didn't recognize. At the same time, he was a bit glad that he hadn't run into any of his friends. He knew he would be bombarded with questions, especially with a pretty lady like Venus at his side. It then clicked that they were probably all at the party that he had been kicked out of, which was probably for the best. "Have any recommendations for a first-timer?" he asked the man, gesturing to Venus, "She says she's not into pizza but I don't believe it for a minute." He turned his head to look at her and flashed her a wide grin. The man gave them some recommendations and they ended up placing an order of a pizza with some bread sticks on the side, in case Venus decided she liked the idea of the pizza but without the sauce. Together, the pair went to find a seat at a booth while they waited for their order to be served. He climbed into the seat across from Venus and folded his hands on the table. "So tell me something about yourself. I feel like all I know about you - besides what we discussed earlier - is that you like to wear your hair down naturally and you don't like it when I leave half-empty water bottles on the counter."

Gemma's eyes frantically searched Oliver's after she asked if he was aware of what had happened. She grew more and more worried the longer he took to form a response; she knew that she had upset him and now she was going to pay for it by having to walk on eggshells. When he brought up his sister, her face flushed. Oh, no, he thought she was doing this for all of the wrong reasons. Didn't he realize that she was just as caught up in the moment as he was? After all, he was the one that had made their argument physical, not she! All she did was instigate, she didn't back people up against the wall and try to mesmerize them with her witty charm. "News flash, Oliver!" she shouted, no longer afraid to get up in his face as he pulled away from her. "Look around. Do you see your sister anywhere? She's been gone for months now. I'm not sure if you've realized but I'm an adult, not a child. I can make decisions for myself, ones that your sister has absolutely nothing to do with. I'm allowed to have my own opinions. What I think of you is up to me, not her. Don't you dare blame your sister for any of this. You're the one that's having a problem with..." She trailed off, gesturing between the two of them with her index finger. "... this, as unusual as that seems for you. We just need to slow down before we get in over our heads." With that, she rolled off the bed and stood up, immediately adjusting her shirt. She hadn't realized that most of her bra had been exposed, along with the majority of her midriff. "Now, please, allow me to get some sleep so that I can think this through. I'll give you a free pass to call up one of your... 'friends' tonight without complaining, I promise. Too much has happened to me today, I just need some time alone." She gave him no chance to defend himself before she reached over and grabbed him by the arm. "Out you go," she snapped, trying her best to drag him out of the door and into the hallway. She felt like she was full of adrenaline as she shoved him out into the hall and slammed the door behind him. She finally had her room to herself. She ran her hands through her hair as she felt like screaming. It was like someone had flipped a switch on him. One minute, he's all over her, and the next he's paranoid. Paranoid that she would go as far as to tease him and leave him out to dry. What had happened to her and why was she concerned with how he felt about her?

 

Owen frowned when he discovered that she disliked summer heat, which he happened to adore. "That's unfortunate," he commented as he bit into a piece of pizza. He took a sip of the glass of water he'd grabbed and listened along as Venus described what she did in her spare time. He'd seen a few pieces of artwork when he passed her room before, but it never occurred to him that she could have made them. "You're kidding! Those pieces are amazing!" he told her, eyes wide. "Have you ever tried submitting any of your work to the gallery a few blocks over? I heard they're always looking for new artists to help them appeal to a younger age group. It's worth a shot, you've definitely got the talent!" He sat in silence and chewed at his pizza while he heard her tell the details of the crazy night at the party. "Sounds like you know how to pack a punch," he joked, laughing lightly. He threw his hands up in surrender when she retorted. "Glad I could help satisfy the inner hunger that everyone has for a good slice of pizza," he said, "you're quite welcome." Her swift kick to his knee nearly made him jump, but luckily he was able to control himself and not scream like a little girl. "No, you're fine," he said, reaching down to rub at his knee cap. When the tables had turned and it was his turn to speak, his mind went blank. This was like the time in middle school where you had to write a paper about yourself after you were used to being criticized for raising your voice about what you liked and disliked. He decided to go back to the start and talk about his life before he had met Melissa. "I was on my high school's varsity lacrosse team for all four years, but I wasn't the best on the team by any means. I think I was terrible at the actual game, but the coach wanted to keep me around because I knew most of the other guys and I was the only one able to get them to shut up when he was talking." He took another sip of his drink and reached for a second slice of pizza. "I played piano for a long time but I stopped when I went to college because I thought it made me look... I don't know, weak?" He shrugged, not really sure what words to use. "I really wish I would have stuck with it, though. I loved it, but I was too caught up in what other people thought about me. I've never beaten anyone up before, contrary to popular belief; I'm not satisfied with the weather unless it's hot and super sunny; and the coolest place I've ever been was to see the World's Largest Peanut in Georgia." He finished his slice of pizza and leaned back in his seat a little to much on a bread stick as he was starting to get full. "Alright, next question. What made you choose your major in college?"

Venus listened to Owen as he spoke about himself, intrigued. The words that really popped out were piano and lacrosse, two of her favorite things. "I played six sports in high school, and then in college I played a few, as well. Softball, soccer, swimming, tennis, field hockey, and lacrosse. Not all at the same time, I spread them out, but I mainly did it to get out of the house and take out my frustration. Half the girls on my team were terrified of me." He then made a comment about her artwork, to which she blushed a bit and tucked the strand of hair she was toying with behind her ear, her eyes averted. "I don't really...It's hard for me to even show my art to regular people, let alone people who are purposefully judging something that I've made personally to see if it's 'good' enough, according to their standards. I don't think that's what art's really about, you know? Maybe one day, if I ever learn to not put my life into everything I do." She smiled a little as she chewed on her bread stick, then shook her head a bit. "Society is possibly one of the worst necessities of this world, I can promise you that. I'd like to hear you play. I'm sure you were great." She didn't smile when she noticed his cheeks flush, simply to save him from further embarrassment, but she honestly thought it was attractive. His question was a good one, it was. People usually questioned her major choices, but never took the time to ask her why she decided upon them. "I'm a double major. English Literature with a focus on the classical period, and then a minor in Physics. Literature has always been one of my favorite subjects, and writing is my second favorite pastime. I prefer to read old classics, like Shakespeare or Jane Austen, or the Brontë sisters. The ones at libraries that are yellowing and have that wonderful musty scent to them that could tell of such worth beyond belief...Sorry, I'm getting a little caught up. But I chose Physics because it was also my favorite form of science and math, and I passed with flying colors in high school. It was also either that or Business, which I didn't intend in taking just for the sake of not following in my parents' footsteps." She chuckled a little, finishing her breadstick. "What's your favorite place? I feel like we all have one, a place where we can just be ourselves and let go." she asked him, her "artist soul" starting to come through. She found it odd that she felt so at ease with Owen. She had never even had an actual conversation with him before, but yet she felt like she could just tell him whatever he wanted to know. She would hardly even say hello to someone unless she was forced to usually. What was so different?

 

Oliver didn't like what he was hearing. Of course, it was his fault that she was saying these things, but still. "I'm not calling anybody." he muttered under his breath, and she paused to look at him. It didn't take long for him to be shoved out the door with it slamming right behind him. "Well, all right then. Whatever you say. I'll leave you alone." he mumbled, moving to his bedroom to pull on a clean shirt and some sweat pants rather than his uncomfortable jeans. Maybe he'd camp out on the couch for the night, watch something on TV. A drink or two wouldn't hurt, either, at that point. He grabbed himself a beer from the fridge, then plopped himself on the couch, flicking the television on as he did so. He aimlessly scrolled through the channels, really not having anything specific in mind. Anything was better to think about than Gemma and their whole situation, though, right then. He gave up on the television and instead stared blankly at the screen, his own mind like the rolling credits. What did he just do? And what was going to become of it? He supposed that nobody really knew, but did he actually want that incident to happen? He was really just meaning to get under her skin, at first, but then it just spawned into something...better, and much more satisfying. He guessed he'd find out sooner or later. He knew she was upset about his sudden change of pace, though, from vulnerable to paranoid. He couldn't help it, though, he really couldn't. He tried to fool himself into thinking he'd sleep that night, but he already knew that wasn't going to happen. He spent the entire night trying to get comfortable and tossing and turning, the nightmares hitting him before he even closed his eyes.

Gemma drew in a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. She slid on some comfortable pajamas and kicked away all of the textbooks that blocked the path from her closet to the door. She walked out into the hall and made her way to the bathroom, where she brushed her teeth and washed her face. She was entirely too exhausted to hold herself up in the shower for ten minutes, so she decided that she would take one the next morning. On her way back to the bedroom, she stopped in the hall in silence and listened as Oliver flicked through the television channels. She pursed her lips and let out a sigh, part of her wanting to go and apologize for her behavior but the other part knew that it was in her best interest not to. She went back in her bedroom and crawled into bed. Unfortunately, she had trouble falling asleep that night. She was wide awake for the longest time, her eyes staring out into the dark space around her. She couldn't put her finger on what exactly was keeping her up. Sure, she was worried about how this would all blow over. She was stressed about school and work, too. It was a combination of many things that had exhausted her beyond what she could have ever imagined. The next morning, she rolled over in bed to check her alarm clock as the bright sun shined through her window. It was only 7:30, meaning that she had managed only three or four hours of a deep slumber. She got out of bed and rolled into the bathroom to take her shower. Gemma heard rustling in the next room over, meaning that Oliver was awake, too. After her shower, she spent a few minutes in front of the mirror examining the deep purple bags under her eyes and her unusually pale skin tone. It was obvious that she hadn't recovered from her sleep deprivation. She was dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a tank top with her hair pulled into a messy ponytail when she went to the kitchen to fix breakfast. She spent a while scavenging in the cabinets and found a box of oatmeal that had never been opened. She prepared two bowls of the food and garnished them both with a few blueberries and some fresh strawberries. She placed one of the bowls on a tray and poured a glass of orange juice before heading down the hall to Oliver's room. She knocked gently on the door and waited for him to answer. When he pulled the door open, she frowned as she extended the tray. He looked just as bad as she did, if not worse. "A peace offering," she said quietly, looking into his eyes even though she couldn't match his gaze.

 

Owen was shocked when she mentioned how many sports she had participated in over the years. He nodded his head slowly when she explained why she wasn't interested in displaying her work. "I understand," he agreed, "but I still think it should be on your bucket list." He smiled warmly, hoping that she would eventually be confident and proud enough of herself to put her work out there. His eyes lit up a bit when she mentioned Shakespeare. "I loved reading MacBeth in high school, and I helped the drama department put on a performance of a modern adaptation of Othello." He thought that her choice of a major was definitely an interesting combination - not everyday did you come across a Literature and Physics graduate. When she asked about his favorite place, he pursed his lips as he sat in thought. His eyes locked with hers as he thought, and when he finally gathered his answer, he let out a laugh when their eyes shifted away from each other. "I've wanted to travel to San Francisco since I was a kid, but that probably won't happen any time soon. Realistically, my favorite place would have to be the lake that was right down the road from where my grandparents lived. I spent my summers with them until I graduated because most of my friends went to their school district and not mine, so we caught up over the summer and had a blast. The water was so unbelievably clean and fresh, I wish I could live closer. I worked on a farm nearby when I wasn't with my friends and I caught myself stopping in the middle of the day to just look over at uninhabited lake because it had such an effect on me." He couldn't stop a grin from spreading onto his face as he took a sip of his drink. He shook his head, letting out a laugh. "I'd love to take you there sometime. Everyone that I've ever brought on a trip with me has fallen in love with the place." He paused to think for a moment about what question to ask her yet. He still couldn't believe they were getting along so well. Not that long ago, he was yelling and screaming and she was bawling her eyes out. This is what they both needed. "I know, I'm bringing up school again, which I guess is pretty lame, but what do you want to do once you graduate?"