point!” I don’t know why, but there’s a sudden sharpness to my tone. Why is he trying to ruin all the fun with his stupid serious questions?
“What’s the whole point?”
“Being someone else!” I shout. “Not having to be yourself anymore.”
“What’s wrong with yourself?”
I throw my hands in the air. “Everything! I’m too dramatic. I’m too clingy. I’m too jealous. I’m not a Creature of Mystery. I’m not a cool cucumber. I’m a skank who Tristan only asked out because I’m desperate to get into his bed!”
That, apparently, was a bit too far. A man in a crisp dark suit approaches our table. He doesn’t look pleased by my commentary.
“Excuse me, miss. I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to leave the restaurant. You’re disrupting the dining experience of our other guests.”
“And!” I shout to Owen. “I’m disruptive!”
“Please, miss. If you don’t remove yourself from this table, we’re going to have to remove you ourselves.”
This makes me laugh. Like really, really laugh. The idea of me being physically manhandled by restaurant security is too much.
“Oh yeah?” I snap to the man in the suit. “I’m sure you’ve got, like, five burly men with earpieces in the back just waiting for something to do.”
The man in the suit—who I assume must be the manager—motions to someone behind me. Before I can crack another joke, I’m actually being lifted out of my seat by at least three pairs of hands. They jostle me through the restaurant and stand me up on the curb outside. Owen walks out a moment later carrying both of our bags. He doesn’t look happy.
“Well, that was fun.” The sarcasm is practically dripping down his chin.
I sigh. “Just shut up, okay? I don’t want to fight again.”
Confusion flashes over Owen’s face. “Again?”
Uh-oh. I’ve said too much. I was really hoping to keep our fight last night to myself.
I start walking toward the parking lot. “What should we do next? Rob a convenience store?”
But Owen is suddenly in front of me. “Why did you say ‘again’?”
“Forget it.” I try to sidestep him, but he blocks my path.
“No, I won’t forget it.”
The electric rush of this day seeps out of me, deflating me like a balloon. “Fine.” I huff out an exaggerated sigh. “We had a fight. A big one. Okay?”
“When?”
“Yesterday. And the day before. But yesterday was the big one.”
The conflicted expression on Owen’s face pains me. “What was it about?”
“The Ferris wheel? Tristan? I really don’t know. One minute we were fine, joking around, and the next you were accusing me of being on Mute.”
“On Mute?” he repeats.
“Yeah. You said when I’m around Tristan I play dead.”
Owen averts his eyes, almost embarrassed. “I said that?”
“Yup.”
“What about the day before that? What was that fight about?”
I sigh. “Book club, I guess.”
He scoffs incredulously. “Book club?”
“Yeah, you accused me of having read the book or something.”
“And?” he prompts. “Did you read the book?”
I press my lips together and look toward the fairgrounds. From here, I can just see the top of the Ferris wheel, all lit up and spinning. Tristan’s band won’t be playing tonight. I didn’t go get him the gig and I never had the conversation with Owen about it for Daphne to overhear. The stage will be dark tonight.
“Ells?”
“Yeah, I read the book, okay? I read all the books.”
Owen rubs at his eyebrow. “You read all the books for book club but didn’t want to join?” He laughs at this last part, and I admit it’s kind of amusing. As far as dirty little secrets go, mine ranks somewhere near the severity of a hidden stamp collection. “Why would you do that?”
I scuff the ground with the toe of my shoe. “I don’t know. I wanted to read them. They sounded good.”
“But you didn’t want to join because it would get in the way of your time with him.”
Owen is not asking this as a question. He’s stating it as a fact. Because he knows me so well. Too well sometimes, it seems.
“What does it matter now?!” I yell. “He’s going to break up with me and I’m going to wake up tomorrow and you’re not going to remember any of this and I’ll have to start all over again.”
My voice breaks and I can feel the tears welling up again.
I’m so tired of crying.
I’m so tired of losing.
I’m just so tired.
Suddenly Owen’s arms are around me. His shoulder is cradling my forehead. His chin is resting atop my crazy, greenish-purple hair.
His shirt absorbs my tears.