The Reluctant Roadtripper (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter 7

Sometime in the past . . .

The day I received the Facebook friend request from Owen Sullivan was a red letter day indeed.

In fact, it was actually the afternoon of my 18th birthday, just a couple of weeks after I'd last saw him.

Was it a joke? Had someone somehow gotten wind of my crush on him and made a fake account as a nasty prank? 

And yet I already knew that wasn't the case - because my own finger had been hovering over the "request friend" button on his account for the best part of a week at that point, so I had absolutely no doubt that the account belonged to him. 

After several minutes of staring at the invitation into Owen's life - albeit the heavily curated social media version - I accepted and got on with the rest of my day. But I was unable to think of much else. 

Why had he friend requested me? I could barely dare to consider that it might be because, like me, he'd felt a connection between us that last night in Portpatrick. That maybe he had also been thinking about me just as much as I'd been thinking about him. It seemed too much like wishful thinking.

My brain was already frazzled with all my muddled thoughts by the time I got home from dinner that night. My family had taken me to my favourite Italian restaurant for a birthday meal, and I was also a little buzzed from the prosecco I was finally legally permitted to imbibe.

And somehow, when I sat down on my bed and switched on my laptop, I was unsurprised to see Owen had private messaged me.

Hey Mirren!

Hope you don't mind me getting in touch! I just wanted to check if you were okay after what happened with Jamie - you seemed pretty shaken up at the time, understandably, and I hope it's not affected you too much. 

Also, I wanted to apologise for leaving so abruptly when your mum appeared that night - I felt we maybe had more to say but she seemed a bit pissed off so I thought it best I took my leave, ha!

Owen x

PS I can see from your profile that it's a special day for you - happy 18th birthday! Hope it's been everything you wanted it to be. <3

I rubbed my fizz-clouded eyes and re-read the message, taking it all in again. Zooming in on the kiss, the happy birthday postscript, the fact he'd thought about me enough to check in on me.

But, most importantly, I fixated on one particular line - I felt we maybe had more to say. What had he meant by that?

I spent ages coming up with a reply, trying to sound suitably casual and cool, and eventually, I just had to give up and hit send. If I kept overthinking it, Facebook would be completely obsolete years before he actually got my message.

Hey! :-)

Nice to hear from you, and thanks for the birthday wishes! I'm doing okay, thanks - the whole thing with Jamie wasn't the nicest of experiences, obviously, but I try not to think about it too much! 

Thanks again for helping me out that night, though - I'm beyond grateful you stepped in. I'm so relieved you were watching out for me, and I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to speak further, too.

Mirren x

I left it at that, the ball in his court now. I was glad I hadn't let my tipsiness allow me to me say anything too stupid. Before I could overthink things any further, I switched my computer off and went to bed.

It wasn't until the next day that I saw the response he'd sent (I didn't have Facebook on my phone at that point, as it always used to distract me from  studying). It had been sent just after midnight; from my newfound knowledge of Owen Sullivan's life, I could see he'd been tagged at a pub in Glasgow the previous night - he'd literally been just around the corner from the restaurant I'd eaten in.