The Cabin

✨ Chapter Seven

The sun sinks lower as the Millers pack up, casting a golden glow over the wet gravel. The rain has stopped, but the air still smells fresh, like damp wood and earth. Owen helps his mom into the front seat while I strap down her wheelchair in the back. I hear the click of the passenger door closing, the low rumble of the car starting, and then—footsteps.

Owen rounds the back of the car, hesitant, arms crossed over his chest. He looks like he has something to say, but he also looks like he doesn't know how to say it. I already miss him. I want him to stay.

"Julian, look... what happened back at the barn—"

"I was about to very gladly take your virginity on the dirt floor of that creepy barn, Owen." I cut him off, completely deadpan.

Owen bursts into laughter, doubling over for a second before shoving my shoulder. His laughter is infectious, making my chest feel light, making me want to kiss him all over again.

"Yeah, okay..." He glares at me with mock skepticism.

"I'm serious." I smirk, watching his face turn red, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

I grab his face and kiss him—quick, sweet, right to the point.

But shit. I forgot something.

"Hold on." I take off running back toward the cabin.

"Julian!"

I laugh as I hear him yell after me. God, I love the way he says my name when he's annoyed.

I grab what I need and jog back, practically shoving it into his chest.

"Here."

Owen catches the faded red hoodie, blinking down at it like he doesn't know what it is.

"What?"

"I saw you left it behind on my bed. No clue why the fuck you did that. It was yours. Take it."

Owen stares at me, the hoodie clutched in his hands, lips parting like he wants to ask me something—but hesitating.

"Julian... are you—are we..." He trails off.

I step forward, pressing another kiss to his lips, lingering, fingers running through his rain-soft hair. Then I pull back and yank the hoodie over his head.

Owen laughs, pushing his arms through the sleeves, pulling it down. It fits him perfectly. Like it was meant for him.

"Does this mean I can text you more than three times a day now?"

I chuckle, wrapping my arms around him. "Yeah, Owen." I press a kiss against his temple. "Just... don't text me a million times a day."

"...I probably will. I'm sorry in advance." Owen says so seriously that I bark out a laugh.

His fingers twist nervously into the sides of the hoodie, gripping onto the fabric like he's grounding himself. Like he's bracing for something.

"Hey... are we..." His voice drops, almost hesitant. "Are we both dating now? Like... each other?"

My arms tighten around him, pulling him in close.

"Yeah," I say. "If you want. I do. Do you?"

Owen exhales, like he's been holding his breath this whole time. His forehead brushes against my neck, his body relaxing completely in my arms.

"Yeah," he whispers. "I do want to."

Then, grinning against my skin, he adds, "You're by far the hottest neighbor I've ever had."