Lainey
Going to Owen's house was the last thing I wanted to do, but what other choice did I have?
By a scrap of my very unfortunate luck, Owen Huntley is the only person who can see me.
Out of all people it had to be him. Why couldn't it be some hot actor or a millionaire? But nope, I'm stuck with Owen the worst person alive.
Okay, so maybe he's not the worst but he's pretty horrible.
The drive to his home is silen since neither of us seems to know how to hold a conversation without biting the other's head off.
When we reach his house I keep my face blank, not wanting him to know what's going through my mind. The last time I was here it had been dark so I couldn't see what his house looked like, and to be honest I hadn't cared at the time.
Now as I get out of his car I take in his house. At school, I always assumed Owen's family had a big house and nice cars. I assumed since he was such a prick that his parent had tons of money.
I was wrong, Owens home is a small single-story house on the bad side of town. The complete opposite of what I assumed.
I silently follow him inside and he's greeted by a girl at the kitchen table.
"How long have you been home, Sadie?" Owen says while his eyes scan the girl as if he's looking for any signs of pain.
"Relax Owen, I just got home," The girl who I assume is Sadie snaps.
He gives her a look; a look only an older brother gives his little sister; a look I have received from my overprotective little brothers, "You should have texted me."
She looks up from the papers scattered around her, "I knew you would be home soon."
Owen sighs and walks to the fridge; I silently take a seat on a bar stool in the kitchen. It's weird being invisible, it's like I'm snooping on their life without them knowing. At least Owen knows I'm here, even if he has to pretend he doesn't.
"How was school?" Owen asks Sadie.
"Good, I passed my math test."
Owen gives her a look I have never seen him use before. The look consists of a smile and eyes that soften from their usual hardness. "What was your score?"
She tightens her lips, "An eighty-nine."
Owen pulls a pot out of a cabinet and sets it on the stove. "That's good."
Sadie smiles and looks back down at the papers in front of her.
Besides the same blue eyes, Sadie and Owen look completely different. While Owen has dark brown hair Sadie has dirty blond hair that reaches her shoulders in loose waves. Looking at Sadie I would guess she's about thirteen or fourteen.
I let my eyes drift around their home, it's fairly neat and very homey. It's so much different than what I thought it would look like.
"What's for dinner?" Sadie asks as her eyes scan a schoolbook.
The sound of pasta noodles hitting a pot is all the response Sadie gets from Owen. "Oh no, not pasta again," Sadie whines.
My eyes shift to him leaning against the stove with a smile dancing on his lips. It's like an alien version of Owen. "I know you love my spaghetti."
Sadie's eyes snap up to meet his, "It's not spaghetti, it's spaghetti noodles and a can of tomato sauce."
Owens's smile disappears. "Sometimes I add cheese."
Sadie's face falls and Owen sighs, as if they're having a silent conversation.
"If I got a job then we could afford to buy the meat," Sadie says softly; like she's testing the waters, seeing how mad Owen may get.
My guess is he gets angry; from the little bit of observing I've done it seems like he's very protective of Sadie.
Seeing this side of him is odd. Before now I didn't know he had a sister, and I just figured whatever siblings he had he was a jerk towards them, not a caring big brother.
Owens's eyes flare, "I'm not having this conversation again, you're too young to get a job."
Sadie folds her arms across her chest, "You had a job at my age."
Owen turns back the pot on the stove, "Sadie, Mom said no, and that's final."
Sadie just sticks her tongue out and goes back to her work. Eventually, Owen's shoulders relax, and he takes the pot off the stove.
Next, he takes a can of tomato sauce and pours it over the noodles. Lastly, he adds cheese over the top and serves Sadie a bowl.
"I'm going to my room, call if you need anything," Owen says as he grabs a second bowl.
I silently follow him down the hall to his room.
Again, the last time I was here it was dark, and I wasn't particularly paying attention to his room.
Owen's room is on the smaller side with a full-sized bed, a tall dresser, a desk, and a shelf that's full of books. His walls are covered in band posters, most of them I don't recognize and his closet door is decorated with pictures of old cars.
What the hell? There's no way this is Owen Huntley's room.
There is no way Owen's room could have any personality to it. The few times I did dare to imagine what his room may look like I always imagined it boring and dull, no life to it whatsoever.
Well, shit.
Owen plops on his bed takes half of the noodles and puts them in another bowl.
I take a seat in his desk chair, and he silently hands me the bowl.
Together we eat in silence, the only sound is the clink of silverware against the bowls.
Owen finishes before me and slides out his phone with a sigh. "Alright, go ahead and make fun of me, let's get it over with."
My fork falls into my bowl with a clang. "What?" I whisper yell.
Owen rolls his eyes, "Go ahead and make fun of my house and food."
"Owen, I'm not going to make fun of you," I stutter.
Yes, I loathe Owen Huntley and everything about him, but I would never make fun of his living situation.
His shoulders loosen. "I can't believe you thought I would be that shitty," I snap.
Owen gently shakes his head, "Forget I said anything."
Before I can respond Owen picks up our bowls and leaves.
When he comes back, he has a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. "The pants are my sisters, they may fit," Owen mumbles.
"Thank you," I squeak.
I follow him to the hall, and he points me to the bathroom.
Once the door is shut, I set the clothes on the closed toilet lid and stare at my reflection in the mirror.
"What the hell has happened?" I ask myself.
Today has been rough, maybe when I wake up tomorrow it will all be better.
Nah, it probably won't.
Luckily the sweatpants fit, and before I put the shirt on, I smell it. Before you judge me, I just wanted to make sure it was clean.
It smells like Owen.
Before I could slip the shirt, the door handle turned. Luckily, I locked it or whoever was outside would have walked in on me.
Next, there's a loud knock and a girl yells, "Owen, what are you doing?"
Oh gosh, it's Sadie.
"What's wrong," Owen yells from his room.
There is a snort from outside then Sadie says, "Wait, are you not in the bathroom?"
I close my eyes and let out a long breath, what the hell am I going to do?
Soft footsteps hit the floor. "What do you need," Owen says, with slight annoyance.
"The bathroom is locked, and if you're not in there then who is," Sadie snaps.
It's so silent you can hear a car pass by the house.
Owen clears his throat; obviously coming up with a lie.
It must be second nature for him.
"I'm sure it's just stuck," Owen mumbles as the doorknob rattles.
"Do I unlock it," I ask frantically.
All I get is a grunt and I decide to unlock the door.
It flies open and I'm met with Owen's surprised look, and I suddenly realize I only have my sports bra on with the sweatpants.
Owen turns to Sadie and smiles, "See it was just stuck."
It is so weird to stand there and stare at someone and them not being able to see you.
Owen steps inside the bathroom, "Owen, what are you doing?" Sadie yells.
Owen closes the door, but Sadie stops it with her foot. "I have to take a crap, Sade," Owen says with a serious look.
They simply stare at each other in what I call a sibling stand-off. A sibling stand-off is where you and your sibling simply stare at each other till one of you smiles, laughs, or in this case yells.
"But I was going to take a shower," Sadie whines. Owen takes this moment to shut the door while her foot is moved.
Once the door shuts, he locks it, and Sadie hits the door with her fist. When he doesn't open it, she stomps away.
Meanwhile, I'm standing against the tub in sweatpants and a sports bra. And it's not even a workout one, or one that reaches your mid stomach with a decent amount of coverage.
Honestly, a sports bra is a stretch, it's more like a bralette, but one of those cheap ass ones from Walmart.
Owen and I simply stare at each other in silence, till his eyes flick over me with a smirk dancing on his lips.
He leans forward; his eyes never leaving mine and flushes the toilet. With his hand on the doorknob he says, "Yeah, you definitely wouldn't fit into the bras that live on the floorboard of my car."
And just like that my jaw is on the floor. Owen opens the door and walks out.
"You could run Satan out of fucking hell," I yell, and the only response I get is Owen's laughter.
I hope y'all enjoy this chapter!!