Alpha's Girl ~ Owen Grady

|Seven|

Thought I would update early after watching the Super Bowl... and that means new Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom trailer!!! Wow! This movie looks amazing!!!Who else can't wait for June 22 2018????

After dropping me off at Vivians white porch with a gentle squeeze on my shoulder, Owen left me feeling the happiest I'd been in years- wether he knew it or not I hadn't a clue. Vivian wasn't home yet so I started on dinner for us both- ate alone and then showered before bed.

My cousin staying out late again as I heard her creep into the house whilst sleep consumed me as I snuggled beneath the soft covers. A small smile gracing my face.

I was up just after dawn and decided to go out on my morning run before the sun rays gained any heat as they caressed my pale skin whilst I ran.
The first run in a long time.
My trainers hitting the soft ground in a rhythmic beat as I moved quickly around the estate of bungalows and onto the dirt tracks parallel to the plains. With my breathing ragged after a steep climb up a hill before my controlled decent back down towards the bungalow, I couldn't stop my thoughts from drifting towards Owen and what his gain in all of this is.

A friendship? Something more? The thoughts pound through my head almost as fast as my raging pulse with every drum of my heartbeat as I reach the front porch once again and begin stretching out my aching muscles. It's been a while since I ran. Not a hobby but more of a pass time on my days off.

Discarding the thoughts I quickly grab breakfast and change from my Lycra into jean shorts and a white vest with green stripes. Casual and cool in the blistering heat of Central America.

Curling up with a novel on the steps of the front porch I become blissfully unaware of my surroundings as the pages engulf me into their story. So much so, that I don't notice the masculine figure until they've sat down beside me and blow into my ear!
Screaming, I throw the book at whoever it is and launch a clenched fist at the body. I cry in pain when I hit weakly with my hand and just hurt my hand instead; I jump up instead onto my feet, ready to flee.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey!" I finally hear over the drumming of my heart beat in my ears, "it's Owen, Owen Grady." he says calmly as he remains seated on the steps with his hands in the air as surrender, one foot placed on the dusty ground as he slowly raises to his feet and holds his large hands out gently to take the hand I'm currently cradling to my chest.

I turn away from him as if to hide my injury as he moves closer. He gently takes my elbow and runs his calloused fingers to my hand and un-tucks it  from my other hand. His bright blue eyes stare into mine, asking for permission to continue, before he gently turns my throbbing hand over in his warm ones.

"Damn Zoe," he chuckles as he gently rubs my hand; an ugly red mark already starting to form where I punched him; he's a solid wall of muscle damn it, "if you're gonna punch me, at least let me teach you to do it right" he smirks watching my every move as he slowly lifts my hand to his plump lips so he can place a gentle kiss on the tender skin.

A shiver races down my spine. Gulping, I snatch my hand away and turn from him silently as I stride back to the safety of the bungalow. He doesn't reach to grab me in order to stop me - which I'm grateful for- but instead he swiftly manoeuvres his way in front of me so he partially blocks my path. Thankfully still giving me the option to move past him if I want.

"I'm sorry," he says, "that's on me," the way he looks at me, as if I'm a jigsaw that needs to be placed together- something that is useless but when complete is a statement of beauty and resilience. It doesn't unnerve me as much as it should.
I gracefully sit back down on the steps of the porch and watch his rugged form as he plonks himself down beside me, pushing the sleeves of his rolled shirt further up past his elbows- it's blooming hot considering it's early January but when the park officially opens in less than 2 months it's going to be a little cooler thank goodness.

"It's okay," I whisper shyly, nerves jumbling round in my stomach like moths "would you like a drink?" It's the only thing I can think of to stop us sitting in silence.

"Sure," He smiles at me as I raise to my feet and wander into the small bungalow, I look over my shoulder to invite him in. Quickly I cross the room to the kitchen and dive into the fridge to see what's chilled.

"We've only got diet pop," I say as I grab two cans of coke and show him over the fridge door, an amused chuckle catching my attention s he stands against the kitchen cabinets.

"I forget about your funny accent English," he teases as he takes a can anyway with a "thanks" and takes a large swill, I just take a small sip of mine; more focused on the fact that my cheeks have gone beetroot red.

"It's soda sweetheart," He smiles as he takes another swill. His rough facial hair along his neck and chin moving like water in a river at every bob of his throat; I clear my throat quietly and look at my bare feet on the carpeted floor instead, my painted light blue nails a clash against the green colour flooring.

"You sound funny to me." I whisper as I take another tentative sip and cast my gaze back up to his bright blue eyes. His tanned skin having an almost orange glow to it as he smiles at me.

"Why?" I shyly ask him, my hands fumbling with the cool can, "Is it just a sympathy act?" I close my eyes in attempts to stop my raging thoughts about the hunk of a bloke standing in my bungalow. I've never felt this way so strongly for someone before and I'm beginning to grow nervous at the fat that I might be falling.

He raises his brows, surprised at my question, "I like spending time with you," he admits as he turns to face me, "yes, you're quiet and shy, which is pretty cute, but beneath it all you're a lovely girl who deserves to be happy" cute, pretty? "You're a great gal English, just don't forget it" he finishes the can and places it on the bench, "Thanks, I'll see ya tomorrow mornin' so I can teach ya how to punch like a man," he jokes as he leaves me lost in thought in the tiny kitchen.

Sighing loudly, I take another swill of my pop- or soda- before pulling my phone out of the kitchen draw. Turning it on I pull up the number of the woman in charge of this crazy island. Clair.
"Clair," she answers after the second ring.
"When can I go back to work?" I ask. I need to escape so Owen can't keep showing up on my doorstep.

That man drives me insane.