Free A Breath of Eyre by Eve Marie Mont

shining in his orbit, trying to catch a little of that warmth. Owen had a lightness about him, a magnetism that drew people in. Unlike Gray, Owen fit in here at Braeburn, harmonizing perfectly with its guitar-strumming, karma-loving vibe.
    TJ and Benjamin were cordial—well, more than cordial to Michelle—but Flynn didn’t seem particularly interested in getting to know us, and after a while he got up and went off in search of beer or drugs or who knows what. Owen just smiled and continued to play his music. We sang with him as he played “Cross Road Blues,” then a medley of Beatles songs, ending with a hilarious folk cover of Guns N’ Roses’ “Sweet Child o’ Mine.” Michelle sat next to Owen, so close that she kept brushing against his leg and shoulder.
    We chatted and joked by the warmth of the fire, letting the buzz of the night spread through us. The parking lot was packed with cars, kids tailgating even though chaperones were supposedly patrolling the lot, sniffing out alcohol and drugs.
    “Any chance of getting a drink?” Michelle said. “You know, to warm up.”
    “A few coolers are floating around,” Owen said. “You want to check it out?”
    Moments later, Michelle, Owen, and I were standing at the back of some guy’s convertible, slurping wine coolers like they were Gatorade. At first I said no, but Michelle gave me a disapproving look, and Owen just laughed as if to say, “What’s the big deal?” So I relented. The wine cooler tasted sweet, like berry Kool-Aid, and after a few sips I felt nice and warm and mellow inside, so mellow that when the owner of the convertible asked if I wanted another, I said yes. Michelle had another, too, and we all laughed at something Owen said, and I felt fine, really fine, as if everything was right in the world. After another drink, I felt so fine that when Gray Newman appeared in front of me, I had no desire to walk away from him.
    “Is that Townsend?” he said. “At a party? Shouldn’t she be in her room with her head in a book or something?” He was wearing jeans and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The light from the fire turned his skin a surreal bronze color.
    “I’m having fun,” I said. “Is that okay with you?” My voice sounded different to my ears, husky, like I was getting a cold.
    “It’s perfectly okay,” he said.
    “You’re not drinking?” I asked, surprised to see him empty-handed.
    He shook his head. “So, what made you decide to come to Braeburn? I’ve never seen you here before.”
    “It was Michelle’s idea.”
    “You weren’t hoping to see me?” he said.
    I pushed some hair behind my ear, trying to hide my blush with my hand. “Believe it or not, I don’t spend my days thinking about you.”
    “Just your nights, then,” he said, arching an eyebrow. A shiver ran the entire length of my body. “Are you cold?” he asked, looking concerned.
    I said no, rubbing my hands together anyway. “How’s Elise?” I asked out of some perverse desire to ruin the moment.
    He narrowed his eyes like he didn’t like that question. “I don’t know,” he said, looking at the ground and shuffling a leg in his jeans. “We’re not together anymore.”
    “Really?” Cartwheels danced across my rib cage. “You broke up with her?”
    “Actually, she broke up with me.”
    Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Why?”
    “She got bored with me.”
    “Bored? With Gray Newman, party animal?”
    “Reports of my reputation have been greatly exaggerated,” he said, laughing. He cocked his head to see if I believed him. “In the end, we just weren’t compatible.”
    “Oh, come on,” I said. “You two were the golden couple—rich, popular, good-looking.”
    “Well, I guess those things just aren’t enough.” He got that sad far-off look in his eyes, and I felt bad for having brought the subject up. But then his lips curled into a teasing smile. “So,” he said, “you think I’m good-looking?”
    I