- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Adaptable
- Genres
- romance. angst. drama. modern. fantasy. supernatural. adventure. crime. period pieces.
owen grayson
"No." Owen said a little too quickly and forcefully as answer to her question about his own home. He knew he had been a little too firm in his answer, the smile that usually played on his lips had died a little. He could have told no in a nicer way, but fear had consumed him for a brief moment and he had slipped up. It made him sound like an asshole, but he tried to shake it off and attempted smile at her sweetly even if she wasn't looking at him. "I don't think we could do it there."
The dark haired boy could only hope she didn't take it to heart or have the wrong assumption, but if she did, he'd leave it as such. Because anything was better than the truth. Owen rarely let his friends over. To more precise they didn't come over because they knew some details of his house. His neighborhood was on the rough side and his house rundown and small. He hated bringing people over to see his pathetic little lifestyle, so he didn't.
The worst thing about his home was his father. The older man may have been out of the house now, but Owen had no idea how long he'd be gone and when he'd be back. Hopefully, it would be for an extended amount of time. Nonetheless, he wouldn't risk bringing Juliette over to perhaps meet the old man again after all these years. He wasn't the same.
Owen cleared his throat and continued. "I'll be free on the weekends ... I'll make the time." There was no denying his friends would drag him out to parties and drink and do dumb shit that teenage boys did. But Owen was determined to play his role in their assignment. More so since he knew that Juliette would not slack off. "So, we just need to find a place to work on it. Do you have any ideas?"