Wild Reckless

The practice conversation happening in my head starts with me telling Owen to just leave, but it always finishes with me begging him to stay. I keep my eyes on my knees, on the toes of his Converse, while I work out my words. I’m interrupted when Owen’s hand finds my chin, and I can feel the pressure of his fingers lifting my gaze upward as he kneels down in front of me.

“I don’t go without you. And if you don’t want to go, we’re staying here,” he says, his eyes unflinching, his focus completely on me, drowning out the nosey eyes and ears around us.

“Are you sure?” I ask, and he starts to chuckle lightly, leaning forward and kissing the tip of my nose.

“You know what’s hot?” he asks, making a turn in our conversation that throws me a little. I shrug and bunch my brow.

“No, Owen. What’s…hot?” I respond, not sure where this is going.

“When a girl knows exactly what she wants and just asks for it,” he says, his eyes daring me. My mouth is dry, and my heart is beating in my stomach. “What do you want, Kensi? I will give you anything. You just have to ask.”

Elise’s giggle slips out, and I know she and Willow are listening on the other side of the door. I also notice Andrew’s stare as well as House’s just over Owen’s shoulder. So many outside forces at play, my head begins to feel dizzy, until Owen’s hand pulls my chin back to him again, our faces inches apart, his bare chest within reach, his face like my dreams.

“I want you to stay here…with me,” I say, letting myself fall, letting myself trust that Owen will catch me—love me for my honesty.

“Done,” he says, his eyes hanging on mine for a few long seconds, his cocky smile tugging at one side of his mouth before he stands and tosses the ball to Andrew across my driveway.

“Sorry, House. I’m out,” he says, waving his hand when his friend flips him off and drives away in his truck with the rest of his friends.

“One more game?” Jess asks, dribbling awkwardly as he and Andrew walk up behind Owen. Owen looks at me, and it takes me a few seconds before I realize he’s waiting for my approval—not in a rude way, but in a considerate one. I nod back at him and hug my legs tightly to my body.

“Yeah, one more. Then I think we should put some candles on a cake or something,” he smirks, watching me the entire time as he falls back on his feet and joins Jess, Ryan, and Andrew for one final game in my driveway.

“Okay, that was hot,” Willow whispers after barely opening the back door behind me. She slips out with Elise this time, and they sit on either side of me.

The boys play at least six more games while the three of us watch, taking turns making commentary on their play, mocking Jess’s inability to score, and Ryan’s pale white skin when he pulls his shirt off. We laugh when Andrew tries to make a layup six times in a row, failing each and every time, until everyone makes a pact not to guard him, just to watch him miss again.

We laugh. Owen laughs.

And suddenly, there’s a moment when he’s smiling—his eyes find mine, and the connection tugs on me, on my heart. This is the worst and the best year of my life, all at once, yet this single frame, my eyes on his, his mouth curved just right, the perfect smile, the perfect mix of darkness and light—it’s winning.

“Yes, Willow,” I say, my voice slight.

“Yes, what?” she asks, still laughing at the last play Jess attempted in front of her.

“That question you asked…yes,” I say, just loud enough for her to hear.

“I know,” she sighs. “And I know you won’t be careful either. Can’t say I blame you.” She leans into me slowly, putting enough pressure on my side to embrace me, and not alert Elise. I lean back, and I watch Owen while I draw on Willow’s strength, hoping like hell I can survive loving him.

As soon as the sun kisses the horizon, tiny ghosts, superheroes, ninjas, and small princesses fill the streets. Every birthday I’ve celebrated has been in the city, every Halloween in the city. This day, in the city—it’s different. People trick-or-treat in buildings, never leaving their hallways or sometimes floors. When I was little, my mom would walk me down our small street, up the two or three flights for the row homes connected to ours. I visited maybe twelve households, rung twelve doorbells, took home a small pillowcase of candy.

My mom was looking forward to tonight. She went to Costco, bought the big candy bars. And as the night wears on, and less kids ring our doorbell, my mom starts giving out two bars at once. After thirty minutes, and several Snickers of our own, the night seems to be done, and my mom sends Willow, Ryan, Jess, and Elise home with a pack of chocolate bars each.