CHAPTER 03: making an entrance

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The one day during this week came that I was dreading more than anything, especially once rumours circulated that Owen was placed into my chemistry class for my first lesson.

He's certainly made his return quite the momentous occasion.

When he got here, everyone's attention was practically drawn to him, people admiring the way he's changed since we all last saw him. Then he proceeded to bask in that attention before his brother could pull him away from potential massacre.

The way he carried himself was with an effortless demeanour, calm and collected yet it all infuriated me and even I couldn't deny that. Everyone knows I don't like him; everyone knows he doesn't particularly like me either. We get on each other's nerves and yet we love to piss the other person off just to get a rise out of them.

His outer core may seem calm right now, but I guarantee as soon as we're placed in the same room as each other, he won't hesitate with the snarky remarks and I, too, will not hesitate with a response. Despite his obvious and successful attempts of getting a rise out of me, I couldn't help but think that maybe my dislike for him didn't just arise simply because we fell out and became bitter.

My internal heartbreak of my ex, Jordan was enough to drive me up the wall whenever he was mentioned; the way Owen looked and carried himself like him made it worst to even look at him.

It was so easy to forget his existence, but when I looked at Owen, I couldn't stand to remember he ever existed to me at all.

I hated myself and I hated him for hurting me the same way Jordan did.

So as he entered our chemistry class that morning, I ran my tongue against my cheek in frustration. My glare remained on him whilst a completely unfazed look stayed within his features. Instructed to sit by me, I rolled my eyes and moved my things over on the desk to make room for him. He dropped his bag next to him, settling on the stool before turning the pages within his notebook.

To say he was miserable was an understatement. Probably the understatement of the century. The guy was practically a mess: tie all crooked, ruffled hair and he looked like he hadn't got any sleep last night.

"You good?" I asked him, glancing over to him out of the corner of my eye. The teacher had started the lesson, everyone beginning on the notes but Owen next me hadn't even produced the energy to get a pen out of his bag, "you look terrible."

He gave me a snarky grin, "thanks."

I watched the way his mouth widened when he yawned, eyes screwing shut before he glanced forward blankly with a few blinks, "my aunt's driving me crazy."

"Kiara?"

"Who else?" I simply arched a brow, finding his current behaviour peculiar, not because I've never seen a tired person before, but this change in Owen was something I've only ever seen a few times when we were younger. The way he arrived at school when we were kids and fell asleep by our first morning break was almost the same to this situation. He would blink once and again and again. Multiple blinks before he'd rub his nose twice and shake himself awake, "do I really look that bad?"

Worst, I thought, but I figured it'd be best if I didn't push his buttons. I coughed, averting my gaze back to the teacher at the front of the class.

"...no—no, of course not. You just need to get some life back in you. Trust me, you'll be fine." I turned back to my work, but even then, I could feel the way he looked at me. Unpicking everything I say or do. He's always done that, I thought, didn't matter who it was, he'd do it out of instinct. It was quite annoying, but after spending years of being in the same classes, I was too far gone to even notice let alone care.

"You're such an optimist," he muttered, looking back at his notebook to start on the notes for the lesson, "it's annoying."

My glare flickered over to him, the familiar annoyance and hate I had for him returning and burned hot to the touch. Every word he said fed the fire that burned within my soul and he was practically asking to be scalded, but when we did have a normal conversation—without the bickering—it was the equivalent of chucking some water over the flame in the hopes it would go out, but it never did.

He said it like it was a nuisance and that my optimism was utterly sickening to the stomach, but the truth is being positive is the one thing that gets me out of bed in the morning.

If I wasn't so happy, I'd probably cry.

And that scares me more than anything ever would. Because I know there's a limit and I know that because my mother had reached that limit. If I crashed the same way she did, I don't think I'd be able to cope. What I didn't know was where my limit was or how far gone I already was before the last of my sanity would snap.

I ran my tongue along my teeth, breathing out a heavy sigh.

I don't want to be my mother, I thought to myself so maybe that's why I'm angry or defensive. The one thing that keeps me from breaking down is the one thing other people would find 'annoying' and I'm willing to take all offence of that. I'm just not willing to show that in front of him.

The teacher turned his back to write on the board so I took that opportunity to look over at Owen, brows slightly furrowed in growing vexation, "I could've sat here and told you that you look like you've been dragged through a bush today, but I chose to be nice about it. So you can go back to keeping your opinions to yourself and doing the work instead of looking at me like I'm a fucking weirdo."

Snapping my sights back to the front of the class, I attempted to stop the shaking in my hands, picking up the pen and continuing my notes whilst ignoring Owen's existence until the very end of the lesson.

Once the bell had gone, I quickly packed my things away and didn't even look back as I left that classroom like it had been suffocating me for the last hour or so. Cassidy soon joined my side as we headed down the corridor towards our next class, but I noticed she couldn't help but glance behind her a couple of times.

"What is it?" I questioned, also glancing behind me as she did. Upon looking back, I noticed Owen stood there with nothing but a passive look on his face when he was met with his twin brother, "is something wrong?"

Cassidy eyed Owen up suspiciously but simply shook her head at my statement, "no, it's just the teacher never assigned him to sit next to you. He assigned him to the desk at the very back of the room next to Ivy. It's probably nothing—maybe he just wanted to piss you off."

Oh, sure, I thought, arching a brow at him. Now I know Owen isn't stupid. He was smarter than people gave him credit for so I know for a fact this was more than just an attempt to piss me off. What is he up to?

After school, the girls' changing room was bustling with the members of the school's volleyball team, me included. We were prepping for practice for the away game next week and I took advantage of my free time to talk to Nicole, who I never shared lessons with except English.

Her and Jaxon have always had a 'thing'. It was rather complicated and it couldn't really be classed as a relationship in our eyes, but the guy would most likely go to the ends of the earth for her as she would for him.

The only difference is Nicole was the only one who was more than willing to take on that challenge.

"Nicole, you got any plans for this weekend?" I asked her, watching as she put on her knee-pads. The furrow between her brows showed the concentration within her features, but very briefly, she glanced towards me with an expectant look.

"You damn well know I have plans and you know they involve Jax. You're not very good at being subtle," she told me, grabbing the hair tie on her wrist before putting her hair up in a simple hair ponytail, "I don't know what's going on with him, but he's certainly making it difficult for me to be excited about these plans."

I scoffed, grabbing my water bottle before following her to the volleyball courts, "I'm sure it's not that bad."

"Brielle, we were literally making out and now he won't even look at me," she muttered before sighing, a dejected look in her features, "I'm just now waiting for him to cancel our plans this weekend."

Jaxon isn't the best at communicating. Me, Kelly and Owen have known that since we were kids, but I can see the random recklessness he was putting on and either it was because he didn't know what he was doing or he was scared.

The guy was utterly clueless.

He acted upon his first instinct and that was bottling it down until one person breaks; it appears to be Nicole this time round and if he wasn't careful, he could break the heart of the one girl who was willing to look at him and see him as more than just Owen's brother.

I gave Nicole a small supportive smile, holding my hands out for her to take before linking her arm through mine. We headed over to the coach, who was busy talking to one of the other members of the volleyball team. Everyone soon gathered within our small cluster before we were split up once again into two teams. Spending the first few minutes warming up, I noticed that upon the benches by the courts, people were beginning to gather either from study sessions or other clubs.

A familiar pair of dark eyes met my own and I huffed, feeling like I could never catch a break around here. He was there with his brother and Darren, all of them in their gym kits probably from basketball practice.

We started our game and I kept my game-face on, winning points for my team left, right and centre. I used my pent-up frustration to power through the build-up of sweat upon my skin that ensured my clothes stuck to me like a second skin. My thighs were beginning to chaf annoyingly as we finished up the final round, everyone playing aggressively to win the final points. Once the coach blew the whistle, I congratulated my teammates before joining Nicole's side for a break.

"You, my friend, are tough competition," she huffed out, grabbing her bottle from the side and chugging down a large quantity of water, "I'd hate to be on the other team with you around."

I scoffed, leading us up the benches as we spoke, comparing and improving our methods for the game next week.

We were met with a rather enthusiastic Kelly, who eyed Darren up as he walked past. Trying not to gag, I felt her throw an arm over my shoulders with a sigh.

They were a strange match, complete opposites when it came to where their loyalty lied, but they both had fire that burned brightly enough so with each other, they were more like a bonfire if anything or a firework, "somebody told me that word around here is that a party's being planned to celebrate Owen's return; we should go. I think it'll be a lot of fun."

Nicole tensed up in front of me and I watched as her former calm demeanour crumbled, horror filling her features quickly, "No way, do you remember what happened the last time we went to one of their parties—when was it? Owen and Jaxon's eighteenth? Never again."

I snorted at the recollection of last year's celebrations. That was probably the one night of the year me and Owen got along, though we were heavily under the influence so that helped make
things tolerable.

However, when my gaze flickered just past Nicole, I noticed Owen with the others coming down the bleacher steps to where we were stood. Our eyes met briefly before he moved his over back to his brother.

There's just something about the way he's acting currently that confuses me, but I wasn't going to stick around and find out why or what he's doing to confuse me.

I told my friends I'd go and collect some of my stuff from the bottom row and went to turn and head downstairs, "blondie."

He said it so naturally like it was meant for him and I recognised the nickname all too well. Something he called me when we were younger and he enjoyed getting under my skin...and I enjoyed it too; I was the only person in his life he actually gave a nickname to.

But I resisted the urge to tease him about it, only muttering, "that's not my name."

I'll admit if it wasn't for the fact we despised each other, we'd probably really like the other person...maybe a little too much too, but I was resistant to his life. I didn't get involved in his private life and he didn't get involved in mine. As kids, our private lives were left outside the playground or when we were with one another.

"But you like the nickname," he spoke back plainly.

"No, I don't—"

Owen nodded back in response, "yes, yes, you do. You like it because it reminds me of the time when I didn't hate you. Anyway, I'm here to apologise. I know I'm difficult to tolerate and I pretty much hate everyone around me, but you don't deserve the way I've treated you since I got here. I've always known you were decent so I'm willing to trust my gut on that."

Now I know for a fact that his apology was mostly done under the pressure of his younger brother, who stood behind him, a stabbing glare being sent all the way to him.

But I found it quite amusing that he's actually saying sorry to me. Truth be told, I wasn't much of a better person, arguing back when it wasn't necessary, but I let him say his piece and arched my brow once he was finished.

"Quite the apology, Bowers. You been practicing?" I questioned and a small grin lit up my face when I noticed that smirk rise upon his lips again. There he is, "look, I know you're changing—I've seen you grow up, but you don't need to apologise. Whatever's going on whenever, I'm not getting involved. I've got enough problems of my own."

I remembered the promise we had between us as kids. How my mother and his aunt told us not to mix our personal lives with our time together as kids because it would make us sad.

"My mother said the same thing about dad and they ended up happily together." oh, how right my mother and his aunt were.

He said that so suddenly, his voice deep and somewhat full of hope. Though I had no idea of why.

The sad reality is we never recovered. Not from our pasts or our trauma; it was just something we carried around and as a response to that, we're in denial of everything. He denies that they're gone—that they're still as alive as their love is and I deny they ever hated each other, ensuring my memories from when I was a child rewind forever so I don't feel what I feel.

"Owen..." I slowly replied, turning back to face him. Shaking my head lightly, I allowed my brows to furrow at what he said, "such a waste. They had so much more love to give."

I continued my way down the steps but felt his undeniable presence behind me. Upon landing on the ground, I felt him grab a hold of my wrist, pulling me gently back against his chest, "you'll cave—sooner or later."

With a huff, I spun on my heel, landing within close proximity of his face. Damn, I thought, landing chest to chest with the guy, were his facial features always this dark? Along with dark eyes, they were matched with deep brown locks of hair, some of which falling upon his forehead.

But I stood my ground. I have to.

"Cave what? There's nothing for my to cave to so let me go." his grip loosened around my wrist as I glared up at him, though he almost had what looked like a bored expression on his face.

Owen lifted a finger between us, pointing to him and then to me, "this. Whatever this is. It's there—it's always been there and you can't deny it. You'll cave into it eventually because you always do. You have always caved to the things you've always wanted but maybe not realised, no matter the consequence of your action."

I gulped, feeling him completely let go of my wrist and even though his grip on me wasn't all that tight, I still felt numb to any feeling. Huh, I thought, who knew Owen Bowers would make me question everything I've fought for up to now?

Him and his damn words.

END OF CHAPTER 03

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