Summary: Allie heads back to New York, but her relationship with Owen doesn’t stop in L.A.
Note: Set after Rewrite the Ending.
Owen drives her to the airport when she heads home, and even though Allie has started to miss New York, leaving is bittersweet. She’s missed Mel, and the temporary reprieve from everyday life has been just what she needed.
Allie glances over at Owen as he changes lanes, at the way the sunlight hits his face. She’ll miss him, and she suspects it will be a lot. She likes him, likes the easy friendship they have. But she’s started to think about him, more and more, and the way she can so easily see them growing into something beyond friends scares her a little bit.
It’s been three weeks since she left Cordonia. She still thinks about Liam, wonders about him sometimes, though it doesn’t make her hurt quite as much as it had at first. And then last night, instead of waking up from a dream about Liam, she woke up from a dream about Owen. Allie has never put much stock into dreams, but it still threw her off, waking with his face in her mind.
When they get to the airport, Owen lifts her bag out, and they stand on the sidewalk.
“Thank you,” Allie says, her voice soft.
“Of course,” he smiles.
“I-“ Allie begins, before she’s interrupted by a car honking obnoxiously.
“Have a safe flight,” Owen says, and she finds herself unreasonably disappointed that this is their goodbye.
She doesn’t know what she was expecting. So she just smiles at him and turns to go, surprised to feel his hand gently cupping her elbow just before she’s out of reach. Allie turns back, and Owen’s arms come around her.
“Let me know when you land,” he murmurs into her hair.
“I will,” she promises, letting herself rest her head against his chest.
She squeezes her arms around him once before he lets go.
“Goodbye, Allie,” he says, and she forces herself to smile.
“Bye, Owen.”
~~~~~~~~~~
She expects them to fall out of touch, but her text that she’s landed turns into an all-night conversation. It continues the next day, and the next, and then three days after she’s home he FaceTimes her.
It’s good to see him, even if it’s just through a screen.
They start texting good morning and good night and throughout the day, and he slips into calling her “Al” when he calls. Hardly anyone other than Mel calls her that anymore, and Allie likes the way it sounds when he says it. She likes that he tells her he looks forward to talking to her, and the little hint of nervousness that sneaks into his voice the first time he says it.
Allie has been back in New York for a few days when Owen tells her he has a business trip there the next week. He looks oddly hesitant on the screen, then asks, “Can I see you?”
Those simple words make Allie’s heart start pounding. They make her nervous and excited and happy, and she can’t come up with the words to tell him of course he can, that she’s wanted to see him again since the day she left L.A.
“I don’t have to,” Owen says hastily, and Allie realizes she’s been sitting there silently for too long.
“No!” she bursts out. “I mean, yes.”
She laughs, a little shakily. “I mean, yes, we should meet up.”
Owen looks unbelievably happy, his cheeks turning a little pink and his lips turning up in a smile.
“Good,” he says. “I get in late next Thursday and have meetings most of the weekend. But we could do dinner Saturday?”
“Yeah. I’d…I’d like that.”
“I would too,” he says quietly, and that’s the first time Allie really resents that L.A. is all the way across the country.
Mel insists it’s a date when Allie tells her about it. She says it matter-of-factly, like she always does.
“Allie. You like him. He likes you. You’re meeting up for dinner. It’s a date.”
“It’s not a date, Mel,” Allie argues.
“Oh yeah? What are you doing right now? Figuring out what you’ll wear?”
Allie immediately stops looking through her closet.
“Getting dressed.”
Mel laughs. “Sure you are. You’re protesting an awful lot about this.”
“You’re impossible,” Allie grouses.
“Maybe. But I’m also right.”
Allie refuses to agree with her, because if she thinks about this as a date, she’ll overthink it and get nervous and Owen will be able to read it all over her face the second he sees her.
Owen texts her when he gets there late the following Thursday at her insistence.
Made it to my hotel. Can’t wait to see you.
The text wakes her, but she doesn’t mind, especially with the little butterflies that she feels at his message.
Can’t wait to see you either. How was your flight?
Good, he sends, then, It’s late, Al. Go back to sleep.
Not tired, she sends back.
You have terrible sleep habits.
I know.
Her phone rings as he FaceTimes her, and her heart starts racing. For all the conversations they’ve had, they’ve never had one late at night when she’s in bed, and it feels so much more intimate.
“Hi,” Owen says when she answers.
He’s shirtless and lying in the hotel bed, and her throat goes dry.
“Hi,” she manages to say.
“How do you function on so little sleep?” he asks with a yawn, running a hand over his hair.
“Coffee,” she laughs.
“That explains the caffeine addiction.”
He yawns again, and Allie feels bad, when he has meetings all the next day.
“I’ll let you sleep,” she says, quieter than she means to.
She swallows hard at the soft, sleepy way he looks at her.
“Okay,” he murmurs. “Good night, Al. Sweet dreams.”
“Night, Owen.”
She hangs up, and can’t make herself stop thinking about how much she’s been missing him, and how she wishes he was here with her.
When she FaceTimes him the next night to figure out where they want to go for dinner, she catches him just after getting out of the shower. He’s wearing nothing but pajama pants slung low on his hips, and his hair is still wet.
This is so wildly unfair, she thinks to herself, watching him towel dry his hair and settle into bed. They talk for a while, about nothing in particular, but the conversation flows easily like it usually does, and she’s surprised to see how late it is when she finally glances up at the clock.
“I have meetings right up until six tomorrow,” Owen says apologetically when she tells him she should let him get some sleep. “Do you want to meet me? I can come pick you up.”
“I can meet you,” she assures him. “See you tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”
Allie is early meeting him for dinner, mostly because if she sits in her apartment for another second, she’s going to drive herself crazy. Her breath catches a little when she sees him walk in. He’s still dressed up from his meetings, and the way he smiles at her does funny things to her stomach.
“Hi,” he says, wrapping her into a hug.
Allie can’t help but bury her face into him, taking in his scent and his warmth and relishing him being here.
“Hi,” she replies.
His eyes roam over her face and her dress when she leans back.
“You look beautiful,” he says sincerely.
“Thank you,” she says, flushing.
They sit, and as nervous as she is, it all flies out the window when they start talking. It’s so easy with him, laughing and joking and teasing him about his awful pronunciation of the menu.
“Some of us aren’t fluent in French,” he laughs, letting her order for him.
Allie finds herself not wanting the evening to end, but eventually the restaurant quiets down, and they reluctantly leave. She’s not ready to tell him good night, knowing they probably won’t see each other again any time soon.
“It’s a nice night,” Owen says when they get outside. “Want to walk with me?”
“It is nice,” she agrees.
His hand brushes hers as they walk, and eventually she links her fingers with his. They pause, just for a moment, and Owen squeezes her hand warmly. It feels good, comfortable, holding his hand, though it doesn’t help her racing heart.
“I should probably get back to my hotel,” Owen says regretfully a little later. “I have an early flight.”
“Right,” Allie says, and tries to push down her disappointment.
Owen stops and turns, taking both of her hands. “I wish I could stay longer,” he tells her honestly.
She’s feeling bold and a little hopeful when she tells him she wishes he could too.
“It was really good to see you,” she murmurs as he steps closer.
She sees his throat bob as he swallows, then brings a hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear. His hand lingers when she turns her cheek into his palm. Allie says his name, nearly a whisper, and her eyes drift closed when he tilts his head down.
She feels his lips hover over hers, and presses into him, bringing her mouth to his.
Oh, it feels good to kiss him. She’s imagined this, especially since he’s been in New York. It’s soft, tentative at first, deepening when she threads her fingers into his hair and he wraps his arms around her waist.
The sounds of the city disappear as he holds her tightly and she lets herself focus on him, on them, on the way they fit together.
“Allie,” he breathes when they part.
She opens her eyes, and knows she has the biggest smile on her face. He has one that mirrors hers. Allie laughs a little, cupping his face in her hands.
“Now I really wish I could stay longer,” he confesses, and Allie laughs again, then sighs.
“Yeah. L.A. isn’t exactly driving distance.”
“It isn’t.”
They’re quiet as they walk back in the direction of the restaurant hand in hand. For once, she doesn’t have to wait for a cab. The one night I wouldn’t have minded, she thinks.
Owen tells her good night and that he’ll call her tomorrow, then, as she’s getting in the cab, suddenly says, “I have a long weekend off next month. I was thinking…I didn’t really get to do any sightseeing this trip. Could I convince you to play tour guide?”
The idea of getting to see him again makes her happy, so much so that she immediately answers, “You could. Or…I could come to L.A.”
Allie has always loved New York, but it still holds a few too many fresh memories, and she wouldn’t mind a little more time away.
“Yeah?” Owen asks, and the little smile he gives her fills her with warmth.
“Yeah,” she smiles back.
The cab driver makes an irritated noise, so Owen quickly tells her he’ll text her.
When she’s home and in bed, curled up under the comforter and has promised Mel she’ll call her tomorrow, her phone pings with a text from Owen.
We got interrupted. Good night, Al. Sweet dreams.