Just Listen

Thinking this, I looked down at my thumb, slipping off the thick silver ring there to read these same words. It was too big for any of my fingers, and I’d had to wrap some tape on it so it would fit, but it was just fine for now while I was still figuring out what I wanted on the one Rolly had promised me. Until then, Owen had said I could hold on to his, if only to remind me that it’s always good to know your options.

I leaned closer to him, pressing my lips to his ear. “Shhh,” I said.

He started to say something else—of course—but stopped as I slid my hand over to his, locking his fingers in mine. It wasn’t over. Eventually, he’d make his point, or at least argue it into submission. But for now, the chords were building overhead, the chorus starting up again. So I moved closer to Owen, leaning my head on his shoulder to listen, as we settled into the sunlight coming through the window beside us. It was bright and warm, catching the ring on my thumb as Owen reached for it, spinning it slowly, slowly, as the song played on.

He smiled at me, and I smiled back, then stepped closer, turning my face up to meet his. As he leaned down to kiss me, I closed my eyes and saw not the flat black of the dark but something else. Something brighter, closer to light, shining small but ever steady. More than enough to go on as a part of me pushed up and out, finally, to meet it there.

I knew that somewhere behind me, my family was waiting, but still I reached my hand down to brush his.

“You know,” Owen said, as his fingers found mine, “it sure seems like you have all the answers.”

I reached up, brushing his hair out of his face.

I swallowed, hard. “You were the one who got out of the car in the parking lot that day and walked away,” I told him. “You’d had it with me.”

“You ditched me at a club and wouldn’t even tell me why,” he shot back, his voice rising. He turned the knob a bit more. “I was pissed, Annabel.”

I turned toward him again, thinking this, and opened my eyes. He was looking right at me.

“You were right,” he told me, his voice low. “This is great. Seriously.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It is.”

Then he shifted, moving closer to me, and I felt his arm press against mine, his skin warm. And then, finally, Owen kissed me—really kissed me—and I couldn’t hear anything: not the water, the music, or even my own heart, which had to be pounding. Instead, it was just silence, the very best kind, stretching out forever, or only a moment, and then it was over.

He stepped a little closer to the edge of the step where he was standing, and I moved forward on mine, meeting him halfway. As he leaned down to me and I closed my eyes,

“Are you okay?” I asked. He nodded, and I reached out, touching his temple, then kept my fingers there for a moment, his skin warm, smooth to the touch, before taking my hand away.

I turned my head to say something to this—what, I had no idea—and his cheek was so close, right there. I looked up at him, and then, before I knew what was happening, he was turning his head slightly, bending down to me. I closed my eyes, and then his lips were right there, soft on mine, and I stepped closer, pressing myself against—