I still remember the exact moment that I fell in love with Owen. It wasn't a gradual realisation or a slow slide into something new. It hit me hard and stayed with me, making the time I spent in his presence a combination of torturous and comforting from then onward.
I'd been waiting for my turn to give a speech at his younger sister's eighteenth birthday party, and although we'd never spoken about it he somehow knew the idea of being the centre of attention terrified me. While his dad took the floor and entertained the crowd with stories from Sarah's past, Owen reached for my hand and slid his fingers between mine, apparently unconcerned with the fact that his girlfriend stood right there beside him.
His thumb stroked mine in a reassuring caress but his attention remained on his father and he never once looked my way. The simplicity of his touch, the matter-of-fact way he offered comfort as if it took no thought at all, pushed what had once been a crush into something so much more.
Now, four years later, here we were at Sarah's wedding, with him newly single and me perpetually that way because no one could ever measure up to him—and being the maid of honour meant I had speech duties to perform once again.
I'd gone outside to get some air and gather my thoughts but my legs kept trembling as I paced the edge of the parking lot. The muted sound of a drumbeat came from inside the reception centre and wind rustled through the trees. Moonlight peeked between the clouds, reflecting off the shallow puddles left on the asphalt after the rain.
A couple of guests were huddled against the wall with cigarette smoke curling between them, their figures briefly illuminated by a pair of headlights as a car swung out of the lot.
Dressed in a strapless navy evening gown with my brown hair falling in waves over my shoulders, I'd been feeling poised and in control earlier in the evening, but as the guests settled in for the night and the formalities began, my hard-earned confidence deserted me.
My fingers twisted together and I dragged in air, letting it out slowly in the hope that it might help to calm my racing heart.
I heard the main door open behind me and turned to see Owen stepping out into the night. My breath caught every time I set eyes on him, but tonight with his dark suit and equally dark hair, I struggled to draw breath at all.
He flashed me a smile as he passed by a glowing wall sconce. He'd been given the role of groomsman for the wedding, and even though we weren't partnered up it still meant I'd spent most of my day with him. I would have thanked Sarah for making that happen if I'd ever built the courage to tell her about my feelings for him in the first place.
"Hiding out, Lucy?" he asked as he came to stop before me.
"Yep." I watched as the other two guests walked by on their way back into the building. "Just doing the usual; freaking out over the idea of people looking at me."
"I hate to break it to you but people have been looking at you all day."
My attention shifted back to him. I frowned as I lifted my hand to make sure the jewelled comb was still in place in my hair.
"Not because there's anything wrong," he said. His brown eyes filled with humour as he gave me a quick once over. "It's because everything's right."
"Oh." In that moment I couldn't focus on anything other than the steady thump, thump of my heart so it took a while for his words to register. I made myself maintain eye contact with him even though it was more natural for me to glance away. He'd never commented on my appearance before; the rush of pleasure it triggered inside me made my cheeks grow hot. "Thanks."
He smiled. "So what's your plan of attack?"
"I'm not sure yet." I rubbed the chill from my arms and smiled back at him, hoping it might be convincing. "I'll be okay."
He raised his brows. "You don't look okay."
"I keep telling myself it's only five minutes." I stared at the ground, noticing that the music had stopped inside, only to be replaced by the muffled sound of the MC's voice. He'd be directing the guests to their seats right about now so it wouldn't be long before they needed me. "I used to feel anxious over almost everything when I was younger," I said, looking up to meet Owen's eyes again. "This is the only thing that still gets to me but I can't seem to shake it no matter how hard I try."
He contemplated me for a few moments while I tried my best not to squirm under his steady appraisal. The appearance of the dimple in his left cheek and the sparkle of amusement in his eyes told me I wasn't fooling anyone. "I'm proud of you, you know," he finally said.
I doubted he had any idea what those words did to me, especially coming from him. A feeling of tenderness built in my chest, spreading throughout my body. "Why's that?" I asked.
"Even though speaking in front of people scares you, you do it anyway because you love my sister."
I tucked a tendril of hair behind my ear and considered his comment. "I guess I just didn't think about saying no."
His hand touched my elbow and slid slowly down to my forearm, his touch leaving shivers in its wake. "That's one of the things I love about you," he said. "And why I came out here to help you."
Love about me? It felt like my heart had made a sudden leap into my throat and I struggled to stay focused on the conversation. "How are you going to help me?" I asked.
Mesmerised, I watched as he lifted my hand.
"Let me show you," he said.
I'd never heard huskiness roughen his voice before now. My eyes rose to meet his; the way his attention never wavered from me made my stomach churn. "What's next?" I asked. My words were so soft I wondered if he could even hear them. "Does it involve picturing people naked?"
"Hmm... No." Owen smiled and encouraged my fingers to straighten. Our gazes remained locked as he placed our palms together. His skin felt so warm and comforting that I sighed before I could stop myself. The corner of his mouth lifted then his fingers slid through mine just as they had four years ago, only this time we were facing each other and there was no mistaking the affection in his eyes. "Remember?" he asked.
I nodded. The fact that he remembered left me feeling overwhelmed and unable to speak. His fingers curled over my hand, his thumb rubbing the sensitive skin on the side of my palm. We stood watching each other while I tried to focus on my breathing and he took everything in as if he'd never set eyes on me before. The expression on his face made me hope for things I'd always considered out of my reach.
My tongue slipped out to moisten my lower lip. His attention dropped to my mouth for a fraction of a second before his eyes flicked back to meet mine. "When you get nervous up there," he said, "just look at me."
