Ghost Bird

16: House of Blackbourne

I gawk at the mansion in front of me. Carefully sculpted shrubs frame the Roman-style house, towering above the gravel walking paths. Carved roses decorate the columns lining the porch. Despite its sparkling white color, the whole house is somehow impeccably clean. I'm afraid to step any farther and risk squishing a blade of grass or disturbing the gravel.

This is Owen's house? It seems more suitable for an emperor than a young actor.

No cars are parked out front. A glance at my phone confirms that I'm early to our Saturday dinner, so I resolve to wait. I can only imagine the horror of being alone with Owen in the unfamiliar house as the others gradually trickle in. We would probably get stuck talking about... I'm not really sure what, actually. I haven't talked that much with him yet.

Each second takes an agonizing minute to pass. Despite being in the heart of LA, it's completely silent. Not even the birds dare to chirp and disturb the peaceful atmosphere. The leaves on the trees are stagnant, while on the way here, flags were flying in the breeze. Sunlight falls on the glittering house, creating the perfect contrast of light and shadows.

Gravel crunches behind me.

"Hello Sang," Owen says in his smooth voice. He places a hand on my shoulder and gently leads me to the door.

"Hi," I squeak out. I tilt my head to the side to look into his steel gray eyes. They shine with humor when we make eye contact.

"It's perfectly acceptable to knock, you know. You don't have to wait in the driveway." His black leather shoes seem to hover over the gravel as we walk, preventing any scratch marks.

A blush rises to my cheeks. "I wasn't sure if you'd be ready yet," I say. That sounds better than saying I didn't want to get stuck making awkward small talk with him.

He smirks. "I've been ready for hours." When we reach the door, he grabs the polished handle and steps aside to let me pass. I only make it one step before freezing in shock.

The outside of the house is perfection. The inside is disordered chaos. The entire floor is open-concept, with only the occasional column to provide support, so I have an unobstructed view. Plush chairs and fuzzy rugs are scattered around with no thought to aesthetic. Piles of books sit on top of every available surface. In the kitchen, the refrigerator is covered with photos. Against the back wall, a staircase leads to the second floor. I can only imagine what wonders it contains.

I'm instantly at ease here. "Your home is beautiful," I murmur.

Owen squeezes my shoulder. "Everybody expects me to be perfect. I wanted somewhere I could relax and not have to worry about appearances. When I bought the house a few years ago, Sean helped me decorate it."

"Did you know him before Ghost Bird?" I ask. For some reason, I assumed they all met each other at the same time.

He chuckles softly. "We've been friends ever since we were in middle school. Both of us ended up missing a lot of school for various jobs, so our teachers always lumped us together in projects." He adjusts his glasses, deep in thought. "I hated him at first. He was so... carefree. It irked me."

He moves to stand in front of me, giving me a good view of his suit. He shrugs the jacket off and begins to unbutton his shirt as he speaks, revealing the white t-shirt underneath. "He grew on me, though. I don't really know how it happened, but by high school, we were inseparable. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to change. Feel free to make yourself comfortable."

I watch him walk up the staircase. The chairs around me look so squishy and inviting, but it feels weird to step farther into his home without him here. I shift from side to side in the entryway.