The Worst In Me

26 - Sang

"Are you sure you're not sleepy, Noah? Because you can go back to bed if you are," I say, eyes only on the little boy before me and not on the others. All fourteen of them, for fuck's sake.

Noah just shakes his head. "Nope. I'm super duper awake, Sissy!"

My lips curve into a sleepy smile of my own. God knows I didn't get nearly enough last night, but I suppose I rarely do. Last night just so happened to be worse than usual. I think I scared Noah when I woke up crying, but he was good at hiding it. He usually is. I hate how good he's becoming at lying. Hate that I'm the one that's inadvertently teaching him, even though I try my hardest to do the opposite.

"Well, I guess that means you're not too tired for..." I trail off, making a silly face at him. He beams at me, anticipating my next words. "The Spinny Monster!" I grab him in my arms before he even has time to blink, then start spinning around and around in the middle of the large living room, the shooting pain in my arm being drowned out by the sound of his loud giggles and the joy they bring me.

Laughter of my own bubbles out of me as I slow down, becoming far too dizzy to carry on. When I set him down on the floor, he wobbles in place, earning the laughter of the men around me. I startle a little at the sound. I completely forgot they were here.

Blushing a little as I take in the room once more, I grab onto the closest thing to me to steady myself, not paying attention to what that said thing is. Much to my chagrin, that thing just so happens to be the arm of one the obnoxiously attractive criminals. And, Lord above, it's fucking hard and flexes unwittingly beneath my touch.

I immediately snap my hand away with a tiny, embarrassed yelp the moment my eyes find exactly who I grabbed. I think the world must find my situation amusing or particularly have it out for me because it was Owen of all people. Owen.

Mental face-palm.

"Oh, hey. Didn't see you there," I give a nervous chuckle and take a step back. Something lights in the silver pools of his eyes that looks strangely like amusement, but it's gone before I really get the chance to observe it. His responding silence makes me uncomfortable enough to prompt even more words without thinking. "Your arms are really hard."

This time my face-palm isn't just in my head. The guys around me all light up with even more laughter. And Owen... his lip twitches. Minutely, of course. I'm not even entirely sure the man has ever smiled in his life. It's a millimeter, if that. But it lights a fire within me.

I clear my throat. "So, are we gonna start this meeting or what? I'm hungry, and I'd like to get this over with before breakfast."

"Yes, of course, Miss Sorenson." I spare Owen a glare at the title. His millimeter smile has already faded, as if it was never there. As if it was all in my head.

"Sang. Just Sang. I don't like my surname, so I'd appreciate it if you'd stop using it."

If he's annoyed, he certainly doesn't show it. "I suppose I'll just call you Miss Sang, then. Take it as a compromise."

"Fine," I grumble, but level him with a heated look and a confident grin, trying to make up for the fact that I'm still quite mortified at my previous actions. "But don't expect me to call you anything but Owen. Mr. Blackbourne is just so... bleh. No offense."

Luke chuckles from the other side of the room, and the moment my eyes land on him, I see red. Whatever he sees in my sudden change of expression when I look at him must make him nervous, for he gulps audibly before saying, "Hey, there, Cupcake. Miss me?"

"Close your eyes and cover your ears, Noah," I say to my little brother instead of answering his question, not taking my eyes off him for a second.