Clawen ♡ Second Time's the Charm

Chapter 3: Monthly Reports

Claire drove past a line of trees, which all seemed to be a smeared blur of green. She checked her watch and rolled her eyes. It had been a few months since she had first met Owen. And in those few months, he had already managed to piss off their boss by forgetting to turn in his monthly reports twice. As the head velociraptor trainer, Claire had expected him to remember the importance of those reports. Somehow, the fact that they held precious data of the newly-born raptors did not register as "important" in Owen's mind.

Of course, of all the employees in the park, Mr. Masrani had tasked her with sternly reminding Owen about the monthly reports. As if I have nothing else that I could be doing right now. I totally don't have any meetings or conferences coming up that I should prepare for. And I totally adore this stupid raptor trainer.

Yet underneath the thick layer of sarcasm, Claire felt a prickle of doubt. Do I really hate him as much as I think I do? Yes. Why wouldn't I? Strangely, she had been seeing a lot of this Owen Grady. He was a frequent visitor at her office (though without the much-wanted monthly reports). He would drop by her office and ask her questions. Questions about park-sponsored parties. Questions about holiday breaks. Questions about leaving work early. Questions that she felt could have been answered by any other Jurassic World park employee. And yet he would come to her.

In some ways, she quite liked the attention. She felt important. Powerful. Experienced.

But in other ways, it made her feel uncomfortable. When the feeling of importance wore off, Claire would be left with nervousness. She was Claire Dearing, Senior Assets Manager. She didn't do nervous. She didn't rely on other people to feel better about herself. She was fine on her own. Yet, this man, this new employee, was able to make her heart race and her palms sweat every time he visited her office.

Claire shook her head to clear it of her spinning thoughts. She didn't have time to ask questions when she knew that she wouldn't receive the answers. Besides, she was on her way to Owen's bungalow to consult with him about the reports. I can't be a hot mess when I get there because I need to look professional. 

As the trees began to thin out, Claire could see the outline of a shabby trailer. She stopped her car nearby and eyed Owen's home dubiously. Here it is. His Majesty's palace. A trailer and a shack attached to its side. Who could have asked for more?

She checked her reflection quickly and wiped an eyelash from her cheek. Then, with a small huff, she stepped out of her car and made her way to the porch. Stray tools and patches of weeds littered the yard. Claire awkwardly struggled to avoid them in her four-inch heels. Unfortunately, the grass was uneven and she nearly tripped. Claire's cheeks reddened and she instinctively checked to make sure that no one had seen her.

She knocked on the door impatiently. I have to go through all this trouble just to get this man to turn in his stupid reports. Why does it always have to be me? It's as if Fate has selected me to be the victim of this wretched game. After a moment of silence, she knocked again, this time harder.

The door swung open. A scantily clad Owen stepped in the doorway. A towel had been hastily wrapped around his waist, and his hair was dripping. Water trickled down his bare chest. His eyes widened visibly when he realized that Claire was standing outside on his porch. He began to apologize, slowly moving away from the doorway and bringing an arm to cover his front.

"Uh... I just got out of the shower when I heard knocking at the door. I didn't know it was you. I'll go and change right away... I know you like to be professional so I'll-"

"No," Claire interrupted. "You're fine. I'll just... wait outside."

She stared at Owen's chest for a moment before dragging her gaze away, her eyes widening ever so slightly. Oh, my gosh. Strangely, however, Claire found the sight of his chest to be hot rather than gross. She swallowed and forced herself not to glance back at his bare front.

Owen shook his head. "Please... come inside." He stepped forward and ushered Claire into his home. With a concealed smirk, he noticed her subtle blush and the way she kept her gaze averted. I guess she has those human desires, too. That's interesting to know...

Claire sat daintily on the couch while Owen jogged back to his room and slammed the door. Looking around, Claire realized that his house was very clean. Very simple. Very cozy. A neat pile of DVDs sat under the TV. The worn rugs kept her feet warm against the wood floors. The couch had a pleasant smell. Probably his cologne.

"Alright. What's going on?"

Owen walked into the living room with a loose shirt and jeans. Immediately, Claire rose from her place on the couch.

"Your monthly reports, Mr. Grady." That was all she needed to say.

Owen slapped himself in the face. "That's right. You're right. That's what I forgot to do."

Claire sighed. "You've forgotten to turn them in twice, Mr. Grady."

Owen nodded as he made his way to the kitchen, for once not minding the fact that she had called him by his last name. "I actually have them here."

He emerged with several messy files in his hands. "Here they are. I just forgot to hand them in last week. But they're done at least."

Claire took them gladly, though she raised an eyebrow as she arranged them. "I'm assuming that Barry was the one who remembered to complete them." Barry was Owen's coworker, and in Claire's opinion, he was the more responsible one out of the two of them. He actually shows up to meetings early.

Owen laughed. "Barry reminded me, but I did most of it myself."

"Of course you did."

There was a small silence before Claire cleared her throat. "I need to get going. I'll see you around."

Owen nodded, half wishing she would stay a little longer. He admitted to himself that he actually enjoyed her company a lot more than he thought he would. But I probably scared her off with my antics today. Dang it. I blame the shower.

Just then, her phone began to ring. Claire reached for it in her purse. It was Zara, her assistant and close friend. This better not be a message from Mr. Masrani again. I don't want to hear his annoying, controlling voice for the next week.

"Hello? Zara?"

"Claire... tell you... my mom... accident..."

Claire could only understand bits and pieces of Zara's rambling. But there was something about her tone that raised her hairs. Something did not seem right. She shot a worried look at Owen, who shrugged with raised eyebrows.

"Wait, hold on. What's happening? Is your mom alright?"

"No... no, she's..."

Claire's heart pounded. It was killing her to know that something was wrong with Zara's mom yet not to be able to hear the full story. Of course, I have to be in a place with poor connection when Zara decides to call and scare me to death. Gosh, I hope it's nothing bad, though.

"Zara, I can't hear you. What's going on?"

"Claire... It's my mom. She got in a car accident. She's in the hospital right now and they-they don't know if she'll make it. I need to see her... I need to go..."

Claire gasped. She felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her lungs and smothered into the ground. Zara's mother had been like an aunt to her for many years, for as long as she'd known Zara. They had formed a close bond since the day they met.

"What..." she whispered. "No..."

"Claire... I need to go to her now... please..."

Claire realized stupidly that Zara was asking for her permission to leave the island. "Yes, of course. Go to her, Zara. Don't worry about the park. Go to your mom."

Oh, please let her be alright. I can't lose her. Not now. She began to regret all those times that she had chosen to read her notes rather than call Zara's mom. All those times she had chosen to practice her speech rather than ask how Zara's mom was doing. Then, she realized that the phone line had gone silent.

Zara had hung up.
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