Chapter 6: Dinner With Owen And Barry

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The evening sky was turning a shade darker by the time I had returned to my bungalow. Dropping my backpack by my feet, I slumped onto the bench that was positioned next to the picnic table in right of my bungalow. Exhaling quietly, I gazed into distance as I replayed the incident at the raptors' block.

"Hey, Curly." I glanced up just as Owen approached, a light smile was tugging at his thin lips. I narrowed my eyes at him and touched my curly hair consciously. The man leaned against the picnic table with his arms crossed. "What should we have tonight?"

I played with the tip of my hair, which was dark and curly, as Owen's nickname for me had suggested. "Don't make it sound like we're having supper together every night," I murmured.

Though for tonight, Barry was coming over. He had promised to bring along with him a few drinks, and the anticipation in his eyes was genuine. We all needed a few drinks to calm our nerves, he had said.

Reaching out, Owen touched my hand with a index finger. I froze and peered up at him. His eyes were tender and understanding. "I like your hair, Stacey. Sorry if the nickname has offended you," he remarked quietly.

I let my hand fall so I could be out of his reach, which also meant I could think logically or at least use my head. "It's cool," I replied and placed my elbows on the table. Tilting his head at me, Owen's eyes squinted in thoughts as if he was trying to read me. I squirmed and glanced away, but his words caught my attention once more. "You're really pretty, Stacey. Don't you forget that."

My cheeks heated, and my hands were tightened into fists. Sighing in content, Owen nudged my forearm and pushed himself off the table. "Come on, we will see what you have in your fridge."

I left the table reluctantly and followed suit. "Why do we have to look in my fridge?" I complained under my breath. But Owen caught my words and threw a glance over his shoulder.

"Because all my food are probably expired."

"You had pasta the other day."

"I burnt it on purpose just so I could have some of your food."

My jaw dropped and I stopped dead in my track. "Are you serious?" I gaped in disbelief. The man halted to a stop once he noticed I wasn't walking along with him. His smile faltered once he caught the expression on my face. "Owen fucking Grady," I started, "You little-"

He blinked, "Are you mad?" I stared at him. Gulping, he took a step towards me and tried a grin. "Look, I'm really sorry. I didn't know you are that protective of your food." Struggling for words, Owen watched me desperately as he tried to save his sorry ass.

The shock in my stomach turned into astonishment, then amusement. I gawked at the terrified man for one more heartbeat before bursting into a fit of laughter. "This is ridiculous," I giggled and wiped my eyes. Then, as if I had only realised what I was doing, I slapped a hand over my mouth and my laughter died.

I couldn't possibly remember last time laughing in front of anyone except for my dad, Ben and Rexy. But Owen had this beam on his face that made me feel dizzy. I blinked when Owen pulled my hand away. "No, don't stop," His eyes were lit with something that I couldn't quite understand, but it made me feel like I was a satellite being attracted to goddamn Planet Owen. "I like your laugh."

The laughter had died within me, while the shock of Owen's effects on me grew. Smiling in spite of us, I dropped my gaze and walked past him. "You idiot," I mumbled light-heartedly, knowing full well Owen was following me into my bungalow.

Once we were inside my bungalow, I tried my best to pretend none of that had actually happened, though Owen didn't seem to be able to keep his stupid smile off his face. I opened the fridge door while Owen checked out the books that I had sacked up on my table. I scanned what I had and pondered out loud, "Should we make tacos?"

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