"Owen Armstrong was a billion things. The loner, the music-freak, the guy who punched Ronnie. But he was also the honest one. He didn't go around spreading rumors that weren't true. No, that wasn't Owen. Not my Owen, at least.
My Owen likes to go in carwashes and kiss me. He likes bacon. He likes to make me listen to Ebb Tide. He makes me wake up at 7 AM every Sunday. He's not an open book, but he's easy to judge. He listens to Mayan chants. He is enlightened. He is a friend, and a damn good one. He is a good kisser. He's tall. And strong. He likes his headphones with the little skulls on the side. He's beautiful. He's angry. Owen Armstrong is a giant. He is lovely."
As I wrote all this down, I heard a knock at my door. Opening it, thinking it would be one of my sisters, I didn't bother putting on proper pants. I opened the door in my short (to the point where it would make someone uncomfortable) shorts.
Owen wore a grin on his face. "Hey,"
"God, Owen. You're obviously not Whitney." I said, shuffling into my closet, looking for sweats.
"What's this?" He asked, looking at the notebook in which I just poured my heart out on. "My Owen likes to go into carwashes and kiss me," He nodded at this, "Very true. I do like to go into carwashes and kiss you."
"It's not just carwashes." I exaggerated a wink.
"Everywhere," He grinned, his eyes moving across the page, "I like to kiss you while listening to good music. Misanthrope, Lipo, Nupital, you name it. Oh, and," He learned towards me, "Especially Truth Squad."
I remember Dexter Jones, his pretty girlfriend named Remy, Ted, and the weird redhead. The night I ditched Owen. "Ebb Tide. That's a big one."
"Oh yes, how could I forget? Whitney likes Ebb Tide!"
"Really," I smiled, sitting on my bed.
"Yes, really." It was quiet for a bit as he read my list, "He is a good kisser." He said in a mock-girl voice, "That ones good," leaning down to kiss my cheek.
"Is something wrong?" He asked, suddenly serious.
"Nothing is wrong. Why?" I said.
Though I knew something was wrong. Sophie. She found me in the girls restroom the day before, took her little manicure scissors, and drew a little bleeding line across my arm.
"That ones for putting my boyfriend in jail," She said, as if the fact that he raped me didn't cause her any pain. She drew a longer, thicker one parallel to it, and it shed more blood, "That one is for nothing, exactly. Except Owen. That bitch is just making your rep worse, honey. And don't come crying to me when that ugly beast accidentally steps on you," She ran her scissors under warm water and put them in her makeup bag, rolling my sleeve down for me. "Oh, and I said nothing, got it, whore?" I didn't respond, so she left me in the second floor bathroom, bleeding and crying.
I unintentionally tugged on my long sleeve. "I know you, tell me what's wrong." He demanded, sitting next to me now.
Owen was my best friend, and I couldn't stand lying to him, "Just some stuff. It's no big deal. Really, Owen, I'm fine."
"I keep telling you, Owen, I'm fine. Can't you respect that?" I got a little loud, but he barely cringed.
"No, I can't stop. I can't leave you alone. I care about you. Tell me whats wrong," He started looking at me, his eyes saying something that he was holding back. It was hard to read, his eyes. I often found myself lost in them. His green/brown orbs used to intimidate me a little bit, but now I couldn't think of anything I'd rather stare at.
"This. This is what's wrong." I pulled my sleeve up, and watched his serious expression change into an angry one.
"Who. Did. This?"
So I told him. Every detail. Then the message in his eyes grew stronger, only a little cloudy now. "I will fucking kill her." He growled.
I was tempted to say 'R&R', but then the message was clear. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him. "I love you,"
He pulled away, with an almost terrified look on his face, "No you don't." He didn't stop staring at the cuts, but before I could reply, he said, "I don't want this to happen to you. If anyone, anyone, does anything like this to you again, just…please tell me."
"I don't want you to hurt anyone."
"Then I won't."
"Can you do me a favor?" I sighed, sitting next to him again. Like we were before. My hands were on my lap and his were on the mattress below him.
"Anything," He looked at me with his green eyes, but even the light color looked so dark and scary at the moment.
"Say it back." I said, below a whisper.
"I love you, Annabel," He whispered, just as quietly as I had asked him to say it.
I gave him a weak smile and leaned my head on his shoulder.
Then he kissed me.
"I love you, Annabel," He said, louder this time, "I love you,"
We kissed, and when we finished, I wrapped my arms around his big shoulders and whispered into his neck, "I love you more."
When we broke away, I went to my notebook, and added another thing to the "My Owen" list.
He loves me.