Accepting Owen (Emilia's Perspective)

Chapter Two

I stumbled to my bedroom, pulling off my false eyelashes and kicking my heels off. After Helton's third failed attempt at a kiss, I'd felt like I couldn't resist him anymore, so I told him I wasn't feeling so well. Grace was the designated driver, and she made sure we all got home safely.

I stepped under the hot water in the shower and closed my eyes, letting the water run through my makeup. My buzz was wearing off, and I was starting to feel nervous that it was almost morning. "Okay, Google, what time is it?" I mumbled to the speaker in my bathroom.

"The time is three forty-three AM," the female voice responded.

I groaned and scrubbed at my face. Did Dad say something about me needing to be up early? 

When I stepped out of the shower, I slipped a long, oversized t-shirt over my undies. I fell into my bed with still wet hair, and fell asleep instantly.

~

"Emilia, I need to speak with you. Get dressed and come to the living room," my father said. 

I groaned, rolling my eyes and stretching in my bed. "I have clothes on." 

"I need you to put on something other than a t-shirt and panties. Hurry. We have a guest waiting." 

"Fine," I complained, throwing the blankets off my body. I was extremely dizzy when I stood up, as my dad shut the door behind him. I'm hungover. Great, I thought sarcastically. After gathering my hair into a bun, I jumped into a black pair of ripped jeans and pulled a band tee over my head. 

I stepped into the living room, still moping, but when I saw the man in the living room I immediately fixed my posture. I brought a smile to my face, as I walked closer. "Good morning," I said, wishing I had done more with my hair. 

"Good morning. Nice of you to join us," Dad said, motioning for me to sit next to the man. 

"Oh no," I mouthed, trying to keep my cool. Is this the talk? I gently took my place beside him. My heart was racing, and I was trying not to stare at him, in case it wasn't what I expected. 

"Emie, this is Owen. His father and I have reached an agreement," Dad said. 

I immediately turned to look at Owen, and he met my eyes. 

He smiled. "Hi, I guess we're getting married," he said. 

I stared for longer than I probably should've, but I had to take in his features. His long arms were almost completely sleeved in tattoos. His black hair was slicked back on his head, and black eyebrows tested above chocolatey brown eyes. "Hi," I finally managed.

His eyes slid down my body and back up to meet my eyes.

"If I had known I was going to meet you, I would've dressed better," I offered.

"I don't mind."

I stood and held my hand out to him. "Let's go to my bedroom so we can talk privately," I said, nodding my head towards my room.

He accepted my hand, and stood, checking for my father's approval, before following me. "You're very nervous," he whispered as I shut the door behind us.

I chuckled softly. "More than I ever have been, I think."

He squeezed my hand, then released it. "It's okay. I am, too. We have a couple days to get used to each other before the actual ceremony."

"So is it Saturday then?"

"Yeah, at four."

I fell onto my bed with a weak giggle. "I have a hangover. I'm sorry. Normally I would charm you with my witty responses, but I just don't have the energy."

"Oh, so you need to be cured. I know exactly how to help!" His voice was full of excitement. "I'll drive. Come on," he said gently.

I followed him back out of my bedroom, stopping to tell my dad, "We're leaving for a little bit."

"Okay. Be careful," he said, peering at me over his glasses. "Have fun."

I slid into the passenger seat of the Ford Explorer and buckled my seatbelt. "So, where are going?"

"You need greasy food. There's a food truck a couple blocks away that I love. Here, put these on." He offered me a pair of Aviator sunglasses. "So the sun doesn't hurt your eyes."

I accepted them, grinning at his hospitality. "Thank you." I put them on as he backed out of the driveway.

"So, you're twenty-one, right?"

"I am. How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-three."

"Do you have your own place?" I asked.

"I do, but I've been talking with Malik about moving somewhere else."

"Oh. Does my dad want you to move?"

"He needs me to move, but I'm not sure I want to," he admitted.

"Where to?"

"Chicago. Would you be okay with that?" Owen looked at me briefly as we parked in vacant parking lot besides a food truck.

"We go where we're needed," I recited from my years of training. "Chicago is actually where my brother lives, so I wouldn't mind to be closer to him."

"Malik said his future wife is still a kid."

I laughed. "Little Ava is on such a pedestal. She's going to struggle to live up to everyone's sky-high expectations of her when she turns eighteen. She's like the favorite fairy-tale bedtime story in our family."

"Were you ever jealous of your brother for having her?" He asked, shifting in his seat so he could watch my eyes.

"No, I'm glad I don't have to live up to some childish, puppy-love version of someone I was twenty years ago. I hope she does okay with it, and I'm sure my brother will be very happy, but their situation is strange."

He nodded along as I spoke, accepting what I was saying. "Let's go get you some nasty grub," he joked.