Shatter (The Daevas #1)

13 • A Calling

"You okay?" Owen queried, placing his large hands on my skinny shoulders, his hazel eyes boring into mine.

These were the first words he said to me in my two days of stay at his place. The awkwardness was too much to handle, it seemed. I mean, I didn't mind not talking to him since, in the first place, I really didn't know what to say to him. Whenever I tried, I'd always clamp my mouth shut and forget what I was about to say. The breakfast, lunch, and dinner thing I really couldn't handle. Because we were so quiet, I could hear the tiny droplets of water on the bucket that Owen placed near the counter. I didn't mind not talking to him whenever we passed each other because I could always avoid him and be in the quiet solitude of my sanctuary: my room.

Now I looked at his chin, since I couldn't look at him straight in the eye, ones that were looking squarely into mine. He reminded me of how Roman would stare at me, or how Gabriel or Alistair would. But, most especially, Roman. It was like his gaze was boring holes into my skull. That was the effect of it all.

"Yeah," I gulped, nodding. I'd nearly fallen back off the stairs, since I wasn't myself. No big surprise there. Then Owen had appeared at the back doorway, coming in from his garage.

"Are you sure?" he asked, not believing me.

"Yes," I said, neutrally.

He seemed reluctant, but he let go, nevertheless. We stood there for a moment, holding in the silence filling the atmosphere. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to talk to him about many things. I wanted to confide in him about my horrible situation; about my powers, about my fears, about my nightmares. But I knew I couldn't. It would make things much more complex. And the heaven knew I did not want that. My life was too complicated enough, thank you very much.

However life wanted to play tricks on me, because Owen said, in a very low but hesitant voice, "Can we talk? I mean...we barely said two words in the two days of your stay here. And...I know that it's been a while and it's been an awkward thing for us to be here together but...I just want to start over. As friends, I mean."

I looked at him through my dull peridot eyes, giving him a weak little smile. "I was hoping you'd say that sooner or later. A talk is a good idea."

For the first time, it wasn't awkward anymore. We would start from scratch, but our ways would turn into a new happy book. Owen grinned at me and led the way to the living room, just five steps away from the stairs which I had been currently standing on. I sat on the sofa, and he was ten inches away from me. Not that he thought it would be way awkward that we would be sitting together, but because he was gaining access for his large frame and limbs to rest in those ten inches of free space. I nearly laughed, because it was like we were before everything went falling apart between us. Except we were only friends now, so minus the special relationship part.

"So what's been up with you for the last two years?" Owen started, looking at me in a more less-suspicious and less-observing manner.

"Oh," I said, giving a little laugh, "you have no idea."

I mean, he knew that my family died. Everyone knew it. They were buried up the hill where my family always wanted to build a house at. And everyone knee that police were still baffled that they couldn't find the killer. It seemed like they'd already given up, much to their frustration.

There was silence. Owen seemed to know what I was thinking, because I knew that it showed in my face. I looked devastated. I looked old. "I'm sorry, Venise," he said softly. "Come on, let's talk about something el --"

"Were you there?" I said, looking at him with eyes that were so full of melancholy, but I couldn't cry. I was tired of crying. My voice was strained and shaky.