Something happened tonight. Something beautiful. After being taken to the Space Needle–a place I’ve never visited because I was terrified of being stuck up there–the rain slowed to a stop, and a rainbow appeared right before sunset. I know that one end of that rainbow wasn’t on the Space Needle but when I closed my eyes for a brief second it felt like it was on me. My heart was calm. My mind was quiet. I was overwhelmed with happiness. I found my pot of gold. My luck. I felt like the girl I once was when I was with the boy who held my hand while I had my feet in the creek.
With Owen’s arms wrapped around me, my back to his chest as we stared out at Emerald City, I soared.
I turn in his arms and kiss him soft and slow. I don’t think of how high up we are. Being in his arms is the safest place to be. I never want to leave.
“Ready for dinner?” he asks, kissing the spot below my ear. I close my eyes and nod, breathing in the air from up here before we head inside toward the restaurant.
We have dinner five hundred feet up in the air, and I don’t end up sick. My knees get a little wobbly when we take the elevator down and I step on solid ground though. Owen wraps his arm around me and lets me lean my weight on him for a few minutes.
He then drives us to Capital Hill and we spend an hour and a half in a bookstore that I frequent. With a new pile of books to keep my other ones company, Owen takes me back home. And as promised, we go puddle jumping, bringing me back to a childhood I loved before it was taken from me.
Dropping off my new books inside the house I run back to the front door where Owen is still waiting with his hands in his front pockets, sporting the boyish grin I grew to love over the years. His eyes, those magnificent blue eyes, they look foreign to me, but they feel like home.
One simple change and I can breathe again.
I feel alive.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask, holding the door open. I know he’s going to say no. He wants to do this right. He wants to give me the feelings every girl gets after a first date. He wants to show me that he can wait.
Doesn’t he know he’s waited long enough? I wanted a date and I got it. Now I want my best friend.
Owen shakes his head, taking a step forward. “I can’t. I want to but I can’t.” He cups the side of my face, bringing his mouth closer to mine. “I love seeing this look in your eyes. It’s like you’re reading one of your favorite books.” I watch his eyes lower to my lips. “You’re so damn beautiful, and smart, and witty.” His voice gets softer as he leans in even more, pressing his lips against mine.
He kisses me soft and slow; a goodbye kiss.
Then he kisses me hard and fast, our hands fumbling to touch more skin, become one. Because that’s who we are.
We’re Zowen.
Our mouths devour the other like this is the last time we’re going to taste each other. I feel dizzy. My body is buzzing, wound up with so much need, I need to release it. Owen sucks my tongue, bites my lip and then tilts my head back to kiss the hollow of my throat. He bites me and groans, sighing against my skin. “So fucking sweet.” He brings his mouth back to mine, kissing me hard like I’m his last breath. Everything about this kiss is carnal. The way his fingers dig into my skin, disappearing under my clothes is almost sinful. If anyone passing by the house looks up at us, they might call the cops for indecent exposure.
When my hand lands on the waistband of his jeans, popping open the button, Owen’s mouth moves to my neck and he bites me once more. “Fuck,” he groans, licking my skin.
“Come inside,” I whisper, my fingers touching warm flesh and hard muscles before descending into his jeans. “Please.”
When I think he’s going to follow my lead after I take a step inside the house, he blindsides me by pulling back, staying outside. I’m breathing like I ran ten miles. He’s smiling at me like he knows what I want but won’t give it to me.
It’s because he does. I want him. I want him more than I ever did. And that’s still terrifying because we haven’t tried to see if sex is in the cards for us.
I want him to touch me.
I want to touch him.
That’s something I never said about any other man.
“Goodnight, Zoë.”
“I hate you,” I breathe. No, I don’t. I could never.
“I love you.” He steps forward only to kiss my forehead and then he’s walking down the steps, waiting for his Uber.
I lean against the doorframe, rubbing my thighs together. How can he just leave? Did he not feel what I felt?
My fingers rub my collarbone twice, and I debate whether or not I should head down these steps and bring him inside. Owen looks up at me, a sexy smile playing on his lips. I’m about to take my first step when a car pulls up in front of Owen. He winks at me before getting into the backseat.
I shut the door, sighing loudly and then I close my eyes and sink against the door. I think I love him a little more for not coming inside.
I don’t sleep that night. I stay awake with my fingers on my lips, and my heart busy doing summersaults. The ache between my legs worsens, and there’s nothing I can do but relieve it.
For the first time in years, I don’t feel bothered by slipping my hand into my underwear while the other kneads my breast.
For the first time in years, I picture Owen touching me and I hear his voice. Owen’s. Just Owen’s. It undoes me. My body trembles like a mini earthquake is going off underneath my skin. The feeling is euphoric. So I do it again until my body is too weak to deal with another aftershock.
I close my eyes when the sun is out.
My morning run can wait.
Because for the first time in forever I’m not running from anything.