Cruel Sanctuary

Chapter 12

I have to say, I seriously am reconsidering my decision to 'try' with Owen; I mean, sure, he had a point about there being no point in pushing each other away but do I really want to be with someone who has made my life hell for years? Not really. Already, I am bunking off school for this wedding or maybe it's the fact that I'm too frightened to face the student body alone. 

Maybe, just maybe, I could speak to him today and possibly pull out of the agreement. I should probably ask Emma what she thinks first, she's usually amazing with these types of situations...or rather...shituations. 

Last night, I was blinded by his tenderness with me and that...kiss...didn't really help the issue either. He had me mesmerised by him and I don't know how. Why did I even let this happen? You tell me. I'm an idiot, I groan, "Knock knock!" Owen's gruff voice chimes from outside my room, he seems really happy; it's a shame I don't too, maybe we could've had a shot. "Come in!" I shout to him, too lazy to drag my ass out of my soft, warm, comfortable abode. 

Before I can catch my breath from the abrupt awakening, Owen starts, "Get up!" He whines and jumps on top of me causing me to giggle. You see, this is what I have always wanted, him to love me, be jolly around me and, whilst I'm getting it, somehow it doesn't seem right. 

Rolling over, I take a deep breath, "Owen, leave me to sleep. I'm tired," I groan and grab the pillow from beside me and shove it in my face but to no avail since he grabs the pillow and places it on my torso, swinging round so his body is lying on the mattress but his head on the pillow. He sighs, "This is nice, don't you think?" Me, being myself, I reply with a simple 'hmm' which he blatantly ignores, "I was thinking, maybe we could decide roles for the wedding today?" 

Now that makes me pipe up and so, impulsively, I shoot up into a tense seated position so suddenly that Owen's head falls harshly onto the bed with a sharp crack, "Oh, I'm sorry!" I whimper and he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, "Trying to give me whiplash?" He jokes and I smile ever so slightly which makes him frown as he sits up opposite me. His face is ridden with concern as he attempts to peruse my emotions, "What's going on in that head of yours?" 

"I just...uhh nothing...I'm okay, fine even, fabulous...I umm...talk about the wedding, it just...uhh...caught me off guard, that's all," I fluster. I can't bring myself to do it! For some bizarre reason, I cannot muster the inhumanity to ruin his happiness! He looks so content, joyous and, even though he prevented that for me for years, I won't let myself rip the same from him. Besides, maybe it won't be too ridiculous, it's probably just a strange sensation at the start and it just gets better from there on. I agreed to try so that is what I intend to do. 

"Oh, okay, as long as you're okay," He looks scrutinisingly, waiting for reassurance, so I nod persuasively and as sternly as I can, although I am uncertain as to whether this is convincing for him or myself, "Yeah, I just thought that, whilst I'm in your good books, we could appoint roles for the wedding, like Best Man, Bridesmaids, whatever you women have at these things." 

Half-heartedly, I shrug. The degrading part of that is the fact that I really am trying to be enthusiastic but I just can't seem to shake the eccentricity of us, "Sure but don't our parents need to be here?" Owen scoffs and rolls his dreamy yet glossy eyes, "Oh, fuck them! It's our wedding, we can do whatever we want." 

A sly smile creeps it's way onto my drool-crusted face and I nod, attempting to display a hint of nonchalance but I have no success, "Okay, let me just put on something warmer 'cause I'm a little cold." 

Taking his cue to leave, he swings off the bed so swiftly that I could've sworn a gymnast possessed him, "I'll turn the heating up as well, you might be getting a cold or something," I thank him and he leaves.