HISTORY

Look at the way he's stacking up the wood, like he's some type of macho man. Obviously trying to impress me. He's completely clueless that he's overrated in my mind. And his jeans are way too tight. You know, he's not as hot as he thinks he is with sweat dripping down his forehead. And his neck. And his chest. And- Stop it.

... News flash, Owen. We're history.

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3. Three

I finish painting my mural within the next week, and it feels like a ton of bricks has fallen off of my shoulders. Ms. Hazel has continued to go on for days about how much she loves it. 

Owen and I go back to ignoring each other, just like it was before. He doesn't seem like he wants to impress me anymore, and it doesn't bother me one bit. Although, I can't help but look over every five minutes during class to see if he's changed his mind. 

As soon as class starts on Thursday, I start measuring a wooden plank for the stairs in scene 7. Seriously, this thing is taller than me. In one second I manage to lose my concentration, and drop the cap to my sharpie. So somehow, I end up letting go of the wood and it slams against my head as I'm bent down to retrieve my marker. I'm perfectly aware of what just happened, and the noise it makes against my skull is unbelievable, almost like a scrape. But it feels more like a crack. I'm on my back now and looking up at the catwalk, and I realize that the lights up there are wayyy too bright for my liking. All of a sudden everybody is panicking, and I haven't even passed out yet. Hazel yells at someone to take me to the nurse, and that's when the pain in my head rushes in. I gasp because I'm afraid, and rest my hand on the spot, which makes it hurt more. "Don't touch it, Pres." a low voice says. My nickname is certainly familiar, and I feel the scruff from his jaw on my forehead when he picks me up. It's Owen, no doubt about it. I get hair in my mouth from my loose locks and I can hear my heart beating fast in my chest. Or maybe it's his heart in his chest. I'm barely conscious enough to know the difference. All I know is that I don't like the thumping. The pain gets worse and before I know it, I'm out like a light. 

~~~~~

I wake up, but what I see doesn't look like the nurse's office at all. I sit up too quickly, and gawk from the unbearable pain above my left ear. "Don't do that." Owen chuckles. 

"Am I in the emergency room?" I ask, curious. He just nods. "Why?"

"Your head was bleeding. And they wanted to scan to see if you had any brain damage or anything like that." His sleeve has a huge dark red blotch on it and I only look away from the sight when I realize that the stain is my blood.

"It wasn't even that bad." I whisper ferociously. I don't know why I'm whispering, but it feels appropriate because I feel like it'll hurt if I talk any louder.

"It looked pretty bad." he reaches over to push a piece of hair behind my ear. Surprisingly, I don't back away. "That was a big piece of wood." he chuckles again. I'm glad he finds my injury amusing. 

"But there's nothing wrong, right?" 

"No, you're good. The doctors came in like five minutes ago and told me." 

"Did they put me in an ambulance?"

"Yup."

"And you came with me?"

"Oh, no. Hazel told me that it was alright to follow them here and make sure you were okay." 

"Oh, um, thank you." he just smiles, probably because I thanked him without giving him a fight. But the whole vibe is awkward.

"I called James like a half an hour ago."

"Why in the world would you call my brother? He's at work."

"Why wouldn't I call him? His little sister is sitting in the hospital." Just then my brother walks in. His face is red and sweaty and its obvious that he's out of breath. 

I've lived with my brother since I was 13 because my parents died in a car crash three years ago. So now my brother works two jobs to pay the rent and put food on the table. He's eight years older than me. 

"Baby, I'm so sorry. Boss wouldn't let me leave." he kisses my forehead and I roll my eyes. 

"You didn't even have to come here." 

"Bullshit, P. What happened? What did the doctor say?" he looks so much like my father, I can barely look at him for more than thirty seconds. 

"I'm fine, James." 

"Yeah, well that thing on your head tells me otherwise." he's talking about the gauze taped to my head. 

"She got four stitches in her head." Owen announces.

"And you're the guy that called me?"

"Yes sir." its weird how he called him sir, like if James is my dad or something. They'd never met while we were dating. But my brother knows the whole story about him. "My name's O-"

"Omar. James this is Omar. He's in my tech theater class in school." I say, with heavy breaths. Owen goes along with it, without even giving me a suspicious look. 

"Well, thanks for taking care of her today."

"It's no problem. She'd do it for me."

"No I wouldn't." I mumble, not looking at him. 

"Wanna bet?"

"Alright." James laughs. "I'll go get you something to eat. You look pale. Want anything Omar?" Owen doesn't answer, so I clear my throat to make him snap into it. He does, eventually.

"Uh, no thanks."  He leaves and I wait until the door is completely shut before I start talking again.

"You can't tell him that you're you."

"What?" Owen seems confused, bewildered.

"My brother knows everything that happened between us and if he finds out that you're the guy that broke his little sisters heart he's gonna pound your face in." Not that Owen isn't totally capable of knocking my brother out, but James can be ferocious.

"Wait woah wait." He puts one hand up and looks me in the eyes. "Broke your heart?"

"What? I never said that." I spoke so fast that I don't even remember the words tumbling out of my mouth.

"Yes, you did. You just said that I'm the guy that broke your heart."

"So what? I was just over exaggerating." My cover up seemed perfect, but it clearly doesn't fool him.

"Hmm. Okay." Is all he says. "I'm gonna get going. You should skip for a couple days, until your head feels better." He reaches for his coat on the foot of my bed and leans toward me. A kiss is placed on my forehead, and his glassy eyes search for some kind of spark in mine. He takes a second to lift my chin up, and I can't help but smile when he smiles in that moment. Then he presses his lips to the corner of my mouth, and his warmth wanders away from me. I'm nervous because of what he just did, but I want to speak.

"Owen." I call out before he can leave. He turns. "Thank you for all you did today."

"Anything for you, Pres." He grins. Man, this guy is messing me up. "You shouldn't have handled that damn board by yourself." He fastens the last button on his peak coat and winks, leaving me there in a frozen state.

Damn it.

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