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“I don’t think I could handle knowing the person I love is choosing someone else,” I admit. “Even if they chose me first. Or last. Or every day. I’d still feel like I was waiting to be… outgrown.”
“Monogamous couples grow apart, too,” he sighs, flopping down so that his head lands on my thigh. “Pretty sure my parents are gonna divorce at some point, but they keep hanging on even when they shouldn't. I think sometimes love can feel more like a cage when it's supposed to set you free.”
“Yeah, well.” Tugging Christian’s jacket tighter around me, I watch as some unsuspecting victim gets eaten alive on the screen. “Doesn't matter because who I want… I mean, what I want doesn't exist.”
Owen doesn’t miss my slip. He just smiles up at me knowingly. “I wouldn't be so sure. Maybe what you want just needs some time to figure themself out, is all.”
“You a therapist now?”
“I mean, I do have my bachelor's in psychology,” he snorts, acting like laying in my lap is normal for him. “Much to my stepdad's dismay. He's still offering to put me through Law School, but I can't do what he does. I'm too soft.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “I think the world could use more soft people.”
“And that's exactly what my mom says.”
Mom. What would it have been like, I wonder, to be raised by a woman like that? One who doesn't look at someone like Owen and see something that needs fixing? What kind of person could I have been?
Someone kinder, maybe. Not as rough around the edges. Maybe if I'd been raised by my actual parents instead of my bigoted, bible-thumping grandparents, I might have felt safe enough to tell them about what was happening at summer camp instead of enduring it for years. I mean, yeah, they're religious, but Logan seems to have turned out okay. Good for him. They chose him, at least.
We lose ourselves to the movie for a while, waiting for the pizza to arrive, but I hardly pay attention to the screen. Instead, my mind takes me on a journey through the last ten years of my life, which is exactly the opposite of what I wanted to happen tonight.
Everything comes to a head in my mind, all the bad decisions and choices that finally led up to the night last summer when I nearly lost my life—and my adopted brother’s—in the process. Then my absolute spiral into rock bottom over the last year, as if I could sink any farther.
By the time the doorbell rings upstairs, announcing our food delivery, I realize too late that I’ve basically spent the last ten minutes dragging my fingers through Owen’s hair.
“Sorry,” I mutter when he sits up. “Didn't realize what I was doing.”
He just smiles, getting to his feet. “Don't be, it felt nice. We can cuddle and not fuck each other, you know. Platonic love is important, too.”
My chest tightens in a way I don’t have a clever comeback for. “I know,” I say, staring at the screen.
Do I, though?
Platonic love. It seems like such a simple phrase, but it feels so heavy. No one ever taught me what that looked like. Growing up, affection was always transactional or came with expectations. To be honest, I can't even remember the last time someone hugged me without an ulterior motive.
Not even… Christian. To be honest, this shit with him is starting to fuck with my head.
Owen comes back down with the pizza box balanced on one hip. He sets it on the coffee table and drops back onto the couch with a hungry groan. “Still good?” he asks, already opening the box. Meaty, cheesy goodness floods my nostrils.
“Yeah,” I answer after a beat. “I am.”
And I realize it’s true. For whatever reason. Maybe it's the clarity of sobriety, or the fact that Owen seems to want nothing from me but my company. Which makes me question his sanity, honestly, because right now I feel about as fun to be around as wet sand. Still, though, I'll take it.
We eat in comfortable silence, our shoulders brushing as the movie resumes. And this time, I stay in the moment, refusing to let my brain take it for granted.
I don't think I've ever had a friend in my life who just wanted to… hang out without the presence of drugs, sex, or alcohol involved. It feels nice. Makes me realize that I'm worth more than what people taught me I am.
Maybe someone to have and to hold is a long way off my radar, but for now…
For tonight, platonic love is enough.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Christian
This fucking blows. And I never thought I’d say that about getting to be in a music video for my favorite band.
Sitting astride my bike with my helmet balanced on one knee, I stare toward the barricades that block off the film site. We're tucked down by the docks, steel shipping containers and metal scaffolding giving the place an industrial vibe that the band's producer apparently liked. A layer of fog rolled in from the San Francisco Bay moments ago, making visibility difficult, so they called a break until it clears.
