The memory of the day his father had come for him was sharper, now. Even though he knew Dad was at home asleep, his heart still managed to trip all over itself as he reached for his phone.
Making sure Hanson wasn’t watching, Nick set it on his leg and looked down.
OWEN, the screen read.
He turned to glare at Owen, sitting a few desks over.
Owen waggled his eyebrows right back in that devastatingly handsome way he did.
He thought about ignoring it. It would be the smart thing to do. And Nick was smart. At least four people thought so.
Owen nodded toward Nick’s phone.
Nick sighed.
He swiped open the text.
PAY ATTENTION.
He hated Owen Burke. Mostly.
Sometimes he liked him. He liked the way his skin tingled when Owen had kissed him, had liked the way Owen could make him laugh. He didn’t necessarily like Owen as a person, but that was because Owen was an ass who didn’t seem to care who he stepped on to get what he wanted.
Owen had girlfriends, pretty ones with manicured nails and extensions, and then, somehow, he had Nick one night while it was just the two of them eating bad tacos from a hole in the wall with the disturbing name of Gato Grande. Nick hadn’t known how he’d ended up alone with Owen, because he’d been positive Seth had been there too, and Owen had said Nick had salsa verde on his face. He’d reached out with his thumb to wipe it away, and then, for reasons Nick wasn’t quite sure of, they’d been kissing.
It was … nice? Sort of. Nick had never been kissed before and didn’t think his first time would be when he was still swallowing a mouthful of chorizo. His brain mostly shorted out, and when Owen pulled away, that devilish smile on his face, he’d felt himself blush furiously.
“So,” Owen said, and Nick had wondered how his jaw was so chiseled for someone barely a year older than himself.
“So,” Nick squeaked.
And so began the Great Romance of Nick and Owen.
Jazz had been confused. Gibby had been annoyed. Seth hadn’t liked any part of it, if the sour expressions on his face had meant anything.
Which was why when it ended a few months later, Nick hadn’t been that upset. It wasn’t as if they went on dates. Sometimes, they would go out as a group and Owen would put his arm around Nick’s shoulders, but that was usually as far as it went. A couple of times, Owen tried to take it further, but Nick remembered his father sitting in front of him with a condom in one hand, a banana in the other, and a gigantic bottle of lube on the table between them, and the idea of anything remotely sexual happening had gone right out the window.
He’d never forgiven Dad for that, especially since he’d made it clear he’d already known what condoms were. It didn’t help that he’d forever be haunted by the way Dad had accidentally used too much lube and the banana had squirted out of his hand and landed on the floor. The sound it made when it hit the ancient linoleum would be something he’d have to go to a support group for when he reached his midthirties.
The Great Romance of Nick and Owen came to an end as quickly as it started. (“You’re a great guy, Nicky, but I’m a wild animal who can’t be caged.” “Oh my god, you are not!”) Nick hadn’t been too upset by it because whatever else Owen had been to him, he was still a douchebag. Nick expected Owen to fade away back to where he’d come from, telling the other hot people that he’d bagged a Normie, but he’d stuck around.
The phone vibrated again.
SERIOUSLY. STOP LOOKING AT YOUR PHONE.
Nick struggled not to smile.
He scowled at Owen instead.
Owen was wearing red pants today (who did that?) and a loose white V-neck shirt that stretched down to the middle of his chest, revealing long miles of tan skin. His light hair was made up of angelic locks that Nick did not like to put his hands in, no matter what anyone said. He’d been vacationing somewhere exotic like Greece or Daytona on the family yacht. Before he’d left, he’d leaned over and kissed Nick on the cheek as he said goodbye. Nick had shoved him away. Seth had stared at both of them but said nothing.
STOP IT NICKY. YOU’RE GOING TO GET IN TROUBLE.
“Mr. Bell,” Hanson trilled from the front of the classroom. “Are we trying for two detentions on the first day?”
Everyone turned to stare at him.
“No,” Nick mumbled, sinking even lower.
He heard Owen laughing quietly.
God, he hated Owen Burke.
* * *
“Ihate Owen Burke,” he announced as he sat at the lunch table in the cafeteria. “In case you were all wondering.”
Gibby snorted. “I distinctly remember you sitting in that exact spot with his tongue down your throat at one point last spring.”
Seth started choking. Nick patted him on the back while wishing death upon Gibby. Regardless of what his report cards said, he was fine at multitasking.
“It looked very wet,” Jazz said, snapping the lid off her Tupperware to reveal a perfectly plated caprese salad with a small jar of olive oil and a twist of salt and pepper wrapped in parchment paper.
Nick thought he had bologna. He hadn’t checked when his father had handed him the brown bag, but it was most likely bologna. Which, to be fair, was better than the Pimiento Loaf Disaster of last April that had almost killed Nick, no matter how much Dad had thought he was overreacting.
“Not one of my best moments,” Nick admitted, pulling open his backpack until he found the wrinkled bag smooshed between two textbooks he needed after lunch. The chips were mostly powder now, but the sandwich wasn’t pimiento loaf, so life was pretty okay. “I got detention.”
“Already?” Seth sighed, pushing his glasses back up his face. “It’s only been half a day. What did Owen do to get you detention?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Nick said, biting savagely into his sandwich. “I was being creatively stifled by Hanson again. Why he needs to teach multiple grade levels is beyond me. I’ve decided he exists solely to make my life miserable. But if I think hard enough about it, I can figure out how to blame everything on Owen. Therefore, it’s Owen’s fault, and I hate him.”
“Nah,” Owen said as he appeared, sitting next to Gibby and across from Nick. “You like me.” He reached over and grabbed one of Seth’s carrot sticks. Seth didn’t stop him, but his scowl deepened.
“I do not,” Nick retorted. “You vex me. And I don’t like being vexed. If anything, I would rather be the opposite of vexed. Whatever that is.”
“Delighted,” Seth said.
“Yes, that. I would rather be delighted.”
Owen winked at him. “I delight you.”
“You don’t. You’re wearing a leather jacket in September. Nothing about you delights me. You—”
“Kensington, just who I wanted to see. You look good. You thought about my offer to take you out and show you a good time?”
The tables around them quieted.
Gibby started to get up, but Jazz reached over and touched the back of her hand. Gibby sat back down with a huff, turning to glare at the Heteroh-hell-no standing next to the table in a letterman jacket with a perfect smile on his face. Nick didn’t know his name off the top of his head, but it was most likely something douchebro like Derek or Westley. All the straight jocks looked exactly alike to Nick, and he didn’t care to try to differentiate between them.