Comfort

Chapter 1

"Can I have this?"

I made a face, looking up. "Um…sure?"

Owen nodded, continuing to go through the stack of old proofs from my modeling days. "Ooh, and this. Can I take this?"

"Bear, this is getting awkward." I looked over at him from my bed. "Especially because you're about to get to the photos of me when I was, like, under 14."

"I don't want any of those. God." He glanced back at me, holding up a bikini shot. "Just this one. Can I have this one?"

"Sure, whatever."

He sat it aside. "I'm not gonna, like, jerk off to them if that's what you think."

"That is what I think."

"I just want them."

"For what?"

"…I don't want to lie. I probably will do that, sometimes."

"We really don't need to be that honest with one another. Really."

"I could take some sexy shots for you too," he offered.

"I didn't take those for you."

"I still could. If you want."

"I don't."

"Bah. You just couldn't contain yourself if you saw me at my maximum sexiness."

"…I'm busy over here with homework. Could you be quiet over there?"

He glanced back at me again. "I can't believe you already have a paper to write. It's the third week of school."

"You have one to write too, mister."

"I ain't doing it."

"You ain't?"

He shrugged. "Ain't is occasionally appropriate."

"When exactly?"

"At moments like now."

"Oh, okay then."

Smiling, Owen put the stuff he didn't want back in my dresser drawer. "Hey, can I look in your other drawers?"

"What exactly are you hoping to find?"

"I dunno."

"All you'll find is bras and underwear. It's kind of sorry if that's what you're looking for."

He just picked up his photos and headed over to my bed. "Maybe I'll be that sorry another day. I have these; they're enough."

"You're a freak."

"A lot of guys look at photos of their girlfriends. A lot worse one than these." He looked up at me suddenly, sitting there at the end of the bed. "Hey, do you think you'd wanna-"

"No."

"Why-"

"Number one, that's a slutty thing to do. Number two, you'd share them with other guys."

"I would not."

"That's what every guy says."

"Thanks for generalizing me."

"You're welcome."

"Who would I share them with anyways, huh?" He was looking back at my modeling shots now, flipping through them again.

"Rolly. And then Rolly would share them with his friends and then I get called the school slut again."

"You were never the school slut," he told me. "You know that."

"Owen-"

"You weren't." He was staring up at me again, watching my eyes. "And if I ever hear someone say that, I'll be the one to put an end to it this time."

I didn't want to look at him anymore and instead opened my laptop, going back to what I was doing before. You'd think senior English would just be a blow off class. You'd think.

"Your hair's starting to go light again," Owen mentioned to me now as he moved up the bed to lay next to me. "I mean, the brown's fading."

"I know."

"Are you going to, like, mess with it again?"

"You like it blonde."

"I don't care, Annabel."

"It's kind of obvious, Bear." Reaching out, I rubbed his shaved head. "It's okay. Like, I like your hair this way, more than I did before. Long."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And I like this," I said, reaching down to rub his stubbly chin. "I think it's cute."

"I'm not cute, Annabel."

"Of course not. You're a bear."

"A grizzly."

"Or a teddy."

"Annabel-"

"Teddy bear."

"I am not. I'm a freaking grizzly." He nuzzled into my hand as I moved to cup his cheek. "Fear me."

"Completely." Looking back at my laptop, I said, "But I have work to do right now."

"Bella-"

"If I do it now, then we can have all weekend to be together."

"But I don't want either now or then. I want both."

"That's because you're a greedy little bear."

"Little?"

"It's all relative."

"And what am I in relation to that would make me little?"

"Don't question your master, Bear." I pushed his head once more before finally getting back to typing. "Which is me, by the way."

"In what way are you my master?"

"In what way am I not?" I smiled, but didn't look at him again. "You do whatever I say, right?"

"Wrong."

"Basically."

"I do not."

"Go get me a soda."

"No."

"Now, Bear."

"Annabel-"

"Please?" I looked at him finally, reaching out to rub his chin again. "You can get yourself one too."

Groaning, he pushed out of the bed. "Fine. But in no way are you my master."

"Mmmhmm." I rolled my eyes. "Bring me chips."

"I thought you couldn't eat upstairs?"

"Dad's the only one home. He doesn't care as long as I take my trash downstairs."

"Fine," he groaned, heading out of the room. "I'll be back."

"'kay."

While he was gone, I got out of bed too, though it was just to change the CD that was in. It was a new one that Owen had brought over with him and though I love him to death, sometimes his music makes me want to smother him in his sleep.

"What is this?" he asked the second he came back into the room. I hardly looked up from my laptop. "Bella?"

"I changed the CD."

"Oh, I know that. I wouldn't have minded that."

"Then what-"

"I don't like this CD. It's all…over produced, marketed-"

"Bear, I want to listen to this."

"And I don't."

"Well, it's my house." I motioned him over. "Drink please. Now."

Groaning, he came over to give me to coke and bag of chips. "Fine. We can listen to this."

"That's right."

"What?"

I just smiled as I popped the tab on my soda. "Nothing."

"No. What?"

"Nothing," I insisted. 'It's just funny."

"What's funny?"

"How you're my bitch."

He growled as he got back into bed with me. "I am not your bitch."

"You kind of are."

"Not in any way shape or form."

"In fact, I don't even tell people you're my boyfriend anymore. When they ask me who you are, I just tell them you're my bitch."

"If I called you a bitch, you'd be mad," he pointed out.

"Yeah, well, that's 'cause I'm a girl and you're a boy. Boy's can't call girls names."

"Oh, but girls can call boys names?"

"Always."

"Don't sound very fair."

"It's not fair. It's life. If you weren't so stupid, you'd know."

He just groaned as he laid back on the bed. "You get on my nerves on sometimes, you know that?"

"Yeah, I've figured."

"I swear she's doing this just to get back at me."

I made a face at my father. "She told you she'd be home late."

"And? You know where she is," he said. "She's out shopping again, with that woman."

"Kimberly. That's her name. They're friends," I told him.

"And?" Dad shook his head as he continued to stare down at the counter where a burnt casserole sat. She had told us to put it in when we got home and time it out, but we either put it on too long or too high because we screwed it up. "She's spending my money. You know how much money's she spent this month alone? This is unbelievable. And then she expects me to make my own dinner?"

"We can just order a pizza," I suggested, pulling my phone out and beginning to dial the only pizza place I called anymore by heart. "Do you want-"

"Let me guess, Owen's working."

"Well…yes, but-"

Reaching over, he grabbed my phone from me before setting it on the counter. Then he picked up the pan of casserole before going to dump it in the trashcan.

"Let's go out to dinner," he said, going to put the pan in the sink. "Just me and you. You have school in the morning, so it's better than waiting around for some stupid pizza."

"Dad-"

"We can go anywhere you want," he told me, heading out of the room now to get his shoes. "You've got ten minutes. Meet me in the car."

Dad and I hadn't gone out to dinner alone in ages. Then again, I assume most the dinners he bought before summer were for very different reasons with very different women. Still, Whitney told me that I shouldn't get involved in all that, not like Kirsten was. No matter what he and Mom were, he was still my dad. And, as she pointed out, he had never done me wrong. Ever. And I'm pretty sure he never would.

"Mom's calling," I told him not soon after we first got into the car, heading towards the restaurant.

"Answer it," he said, hardly glancing at me. "Your ring tone is annoying."

"Yeah, Owen thinks so too," I sighed as I answered. "Hello?"

"I called your dad's phone. Is he not home?"

No greeting? I frowned. "We went out. Me and him."

"Annabel, don't lie for-"

"I'm not." I glanced at him, but he was staring straight ahead again. "He's right here. Dad, say hi."

He just grunted, clearly angry that she was calling us.

"See? He's here."

"Where are you going?"

"Out to dinner," I told her.

"What happened to the-"

"We burnt it."

"How?"

"Well," I began though that was as far as I got. I had no idea where to go from there.

"Where are the two of you going to eat? Kim and I will meet you there."

I glanced at my father again. "Dad, Mom wants to meet us at-"

"No," he said, still not looking at me. Instead, he just reached down and turned up the stereo slightly. "Tell her it's just me and you tonight."

"Dad says that he just wants to hangout with me tonight," I told my mother on the phone. "He-"

"Let me talk to him."

"He's driving, Mom."

"Let me talk to him," she repeated. "Now."

"Dad, she wants to talk to you," I said, removing the phone from my ear. "She-"

"No."

"What?"

"Tell her no. This is our day. She had her chance to be a part of it and she ruined it." He turned the radio up even more. "She went shopping. That was her choice."

Whitney told me not to get involved, but they really weren't leaving me many options here.

In the end, Mom hung up, very angry at my father. And he just pretended like nothing happened, even singing along when his favorite Eagles song came on the radio. Once again, both stuck up on the same problem, but neither willing to bend a little to see the others point of view.

"Don't tell me it's your mother again," Dad complained when, as soon as we sat down, my cell vibrated. "I really don't want to talk to her if it is."

"It's Owen," I said, reading the text. "He wants to know if I'm busy."

"Well, you are."

"I know," I said, picking up the phone. "Just let me tell him-"

"It can wait."

"But-"

"It can wait," he repeated before nodding at the menu in front of me. "This is our dinner. That does not include your mother or your boyfriend. Just the two of us."

"But he-"

"Just for a while, Annabel." He shook his head. "You two act like you're inseparable. You do realize that you spent years without him, right?"

"Yes," I agreed.

"Alright then. You can spend some time with me, alone." Dad smiled then. "Tell me about school."

"What's there to tell? All I do is talk to Owen."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Then let's talk about something else."

"Okay," I said, game. "Can I get a dog?"

"Annabel."

"You said I couldn't have one before because Whitney was afraid of dogs. Whitney's gone now."

"And in a year, you'll be in college. Then what?"

"Then you and Mom can keep him for me. Or O-" I stopped myself, knowing that my father had already said to stop talking about my boyfriend.

"Won't Owen be at college too?"

"No," I said slowly, now staring intently on at the menu.

"Then what?"

"What do you mean?"

"Where is Owen going? Is he planning to join the military?"

"No."

"A trade school?"

"No."

"Then what, Annabel?"

I glanced up at him. "Nothing."

"Nothing like you're not going to tell me or-"

"He doesn't want to do anything."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning what I said. He doesn't want to do anything. He just wants to stay at home and keep working."

"Delivering pizzas is hardly working."

"Then he'll get another job. Dad, I don't know what he wants, okay?"

"Well, he needs to be planning for the future right about now."

"That is his future. He doesn't want to do anything," I told him, shrugging. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"I'm not saying I do want you to do something about it. I'm just saying-"

"I thought we weren't going to talk about Owen anymore?"

My father frowned. "Fine. No dog."

"But-"

"When you get your own house and set your own rules, you can get a dog."

"Dad-"

"Your mom and I are dealing with a lot right now, Annabel," he said with a shake of his head. "Maybe when things calm down some, we can talk about it again. Alright? Around Christmas."

"'kay," I gave in as the waiter came to get our orders. "Alright."

This year was a lot different than last year. Sure, yeah, we're finally seniors, the crème de la crème, but that wasn't all. Owen and I still had lunch together and the same last period. Yet still, there was more.

"Hey, this is Annabel and that was Story of my Life. I'll see you guys tomorrow at six sharp." I smiled over at Owen, who was sitting with his arms crossed, angry that my last song hadn't been up to his par. "Until then."

I synced up the next track for group that came on after me before heading out of the booth with my boyfriend. I had had my job at the station for awhile now, but Owen was still unimpressed. I got the Monday through Wednesday, six till eight thirty slot and he still didn't care. Not that I'm shocked. I think it's more jealousy than anything.

"I hate going to school every morning, after doing the show," I told Owen after I got into the car with him. "Don't you?"

He shrugged, not saying anything. We both got our first off period in the morning to accommodate my radio show. He was my ride most everywhere now, be it from the station or too school, we went everywhere together. It was…nice.

"Owen, don't get all upset. It's not my fault that I'm better than you at everything. Including hosting a radio show."

Owen just reached over, ignoring my teasing as he laid his hand on my thigh. Squeezing tightly, he said, "You're lucky I'm in love with you."

"Mmmm. I've got a twenty," I told him. "Wanna get donuts?"

"If you want, fine. We've got twenty minutes to kill, like usual."

Sighing, I leaned against the car window. "So Dad and I went out to dinner last night."

"You've mentioned that."

"When we got home, Mom was ticked."

"You said they fought."

"They screamed at each other." I shook my head. "I'm kind of getting tired of it all though, you know?"

My thigh got another squeeze. "Yeah, I know."

Smiling over at him, I said, "I love you."

"Yeah, I know."

"And Dad said that I could get a dog, by the way."

"Really now?"

"Well, he said we'd see about it, around Christmas. He wants him and Mom to stop fighting first."

"What kind of dog would you get?"

"I dunno."

"Big or small?"

"Big."

"Hmmm. Would you want it as a puppy or-"

"I don't know, Bear," I told him thoughtfully. "I'd like to think so, but if I saw an older dog that, like, needed me or whatever, I would take it."

"Needed you?"

"Like if I went down to the pound and they were about to put a dog down because of space, I would take him."

"Yeah, but if you take him, that just means that another one gets put down in his place."

"…Why can't you be this smart in school?"

Laughing, my thigh got one last squeeze before he released it. "That wasn't smart, Bella. That was logical. And are you saying I'm dumb in school?"

"Not in so many words."

He shook his head at me. "You're hilarious, you know that?"

"I've been told, sure."

"By who?"

"Uh, try anyone with any amount of intelligence."

"Is that another dumb joke?"

"Why Bear, whatever do you mean?"

"How was school?"

I hardly glanced at my mother as I walked into the kitchen. "It was fine."

"Where's Owen?"

"With Mallory. She's not… He just needed to be with her today." I shrugged. "We're together in the mornings anyways. When we go do the radio show."

"Is he still angry about that?"

"He was never angry, Mom," I said, making a face at her as I went to get an apple out of the fruit basket in the middle of the table. "He just put a lot into Anger Management, you know? He thinks I bested him."

"You did," she told me, still just sitting at the table while flipping through a magazine. "You hurt his pride, dear. Not only did he get beat and not only was it by a girl, but it was also by his girlfriend. And at something he cares so much about. It's not a shock that he's still upset by it."

Frowning, I went to rinse off my apple. "I didn't mean to-"

"Of course not. And he knows that." She shrugged slightly. "What can you do though? Boys, men, they're all so easy to wound. They're like babies. Every little thing hurts them. Their pride, at least. That's what makes them so weak."

I considered this before heading out of the room and up the stairs. I had some trig homework I needed to take care of. That's the class Owen and I ended up with together. Trig. Yeah. I knew that I had to get the homework done so that he could copy it before school tomorrow. That's my life now. A cheater. A trigonometry cheater.

"Annabel," I heard my mother call from downstairs not long after I had made it into my bedroom. "I'm going out. I'll be home late."

I jumped up from my bed and went to open my bedroom door. "Does Dad know?"

I could hear her huff at that, all the way upstairs. "He might be your father, Annabel, but he's not mine."

"I didn't mean…he just mentioned yesterday that he didn't like having to make his own dinner," I tried, hoping to hint her along. "So maybe-"

"Then he should have hired a chef, not married me," she retorted. "Goodbye, Annabel."

I stood there for a moment, leaning against my doorframe as she left the house. Why didn't they get that if they were going to make this work, they had to actually try? Not each try to hurt each other, but actually try?

Shaking my head, I went to get back to work on my homework. Whitney told me they weren't my main concern, so why focus on them at all? I couldn't make them perfect again. In fact, I don't even think they ever were.

It didn't take long for my cell phone to ring. I assumed it was Owen and that he wanted to come over, so I answered without checking.

"Hey, Bear."

"I- Annabel?"

"Dad?" I choked on nothing. "Oh, uh…I thought you were…"

"Bear?"

"Dad."

He let out a breath noisily. "Anyways, Annabel, I just wanted you to know that I won't be home on time tonight. Tell your-"

"Mom's out too," I told him.

"What?"

"Yeah."

"Well…is there anything for you to eat?"

"I'll just order pizza."

I could hear in the tone of his voice that he didn't like this. "Is that the plan?"

"It's my plan."

"Annabel-"

"We stay home alone together all the time, Dad."

"Yeah, that was before I knew you called him Bear."

I blushed. "Fine. If you don't want me to order pizza, fine. You'll have to bring me something home though. I mean, after how that casserole turned out-"

"You can eat with your boyfriend, Annabel. I don't care," he gave in, like usual. "If your mom calls though, tell her that I'm watching the game."

"Where?"

"A bar," he told me. "You'll probably be in bed when I get home, so goodnight."

"Goodnight."

After he hung up, I immediately sent Owen a text asking if he worked and if he did that I wanted him to come over after, bringing pizza. And if he wasn't working, then he could come by any time with dinner. I was alone, after all.

I stayed that way too, for most of the night. Owen never sent me a reply back and I figured something must have happened with his sister. Around nine, I gave up hope and went downstairs to find something to make myself.

Sure, I could still order pizza, but come on. I really don't even like pizza. Who does after the age of ten? I've spent eighteen years on this planet and I'm pretty sure if you counted out every single meal I've eaten, pizza would count for over half. Everyone knows pizza's only good when you haven't had it in awhile.

Anyways, I was in the kitchen making myself a sandwich when a car pulled up into the driveway. I knew this because the headlights shone through the glass front of the house. I assumed it was just one of my parents until when I glanced out there and saw the Land Cruiser.

"Owen," I complained as I opened the front door. He had had time to get out of his car and head up the walk. "I thought you didn't get my message."

"'course I got it, Bell," he said, still heading towards me, pizza box in one hand, a 2-liter of soda in the other. "Pineapple and sausage with extra cheese and a liter of Diet Pepsi."

"Aw, Bear." I took a step back as he came into the house. "Why didn't you text me back?"

"Didn't feel like it, I guess" He shrugged as he handed me the pizza and soda before taking off his boots and shutting the door. Then, taking them back from me, he headed into the kitchen. "Let me guess, parents out again?"

"Yeah."

"What is it this time? Your dad can't possibly be having another work party."

"No," I sighed, following him into the other room. "They both went out alone. Dad's at a sports bar and Mom is…I don't know."

"Can I assume that they'll both be home late?"

"Yeah."

"Great." He sat the pizza down on the table before grabbing a plate. Quickly, he pulled out half the pieces and piled them on it. "Let's take this upstairs, huh?"

I smiled meekly. "Sure."

Owen headed up to my room while I poured myself some of the Diet Pepsi and got him a coke from the fridge. When I got to my bedroom, Owen had already sat the plate of pizza down on my bed while he messed with the stereo.

"Sometimes I think you like music more than you like me."

"Now, Bella, you know that I loved music first, but I love you too now. Neither of you, though, is any better than the other."

"You had better love me more than music," I warned as I sat the sodas down before getting into bed.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you well."

"Oh? And it does you?"

"Why yes, it does," he said as he moved to get into bed with me. "But then again, everything suits me well."

"Me too though, right? Aren't I perfect?"

"You are. When you're not jealous that is."

"Then I wouldn't be perfect."

"Shut up and eat your pineapple," he ordered, pulling a piece off a slice and shoving it in my mouth. "Bella."

I smiled at him, swallowing. "How was Mallory?"

"Alright. She's not feeling well of course, but what can I do about that?"

I pulled a piece of sausage of the piece now, feeding it to him. "I'm sorry, Bear."

"I'm gonna hate when you really do something bad," Owen told me. "'cause when you really have something to be sorry for, you probably won't say anything other than sorry."

"Cute." I poked his nose before finally picking up a piece of pizza. "You wanna copy my trig homework now?"

"After we eat," he said, grabbing his own slice of pizza. "Have I told you yet today that I love you?"

"I think so."

My nose got a poke. "Good. Because I do."

"I know." I smiled as he ripped off a piece of his crust and held it up to my mouth. "I love you too."

Feeding me the crust, he said, "Good."

We shifted back on the bed, Owen laying down on his back, me on my side, while we balanced the plate on his chest. Giggling, I fed him a piece of my crust.

"I think we eat too much pizza," I told him.

"Yeah, me too."

"I don't even really like pizza," I admitted.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, I did as a kid. It was, like, one of my favorite foods."

"I think it's like that for everybody, Bell. Burgers, nachos, tacos, pizza, ice cream. Those are, like, every kids favorite food." He glanced at me. "What's your favorite food now though?"

I cocked an eyebrow. "You mean you don't know?"

He took this challenge seriously, frowning slightly as he thought. Then, suddenly, he smiled, shaking his head slightly. "French fries."

I pushed at his chest gently, careful not to knock the plate off. "How'd you know?"

"Because every time we go out to eat at a burger place, you always bash how much I'm eating before giving me most of your burger and stealing at least half my fries."

"I do not."

"Do too." He reached out and patted my stomach. "S'okay. It's kind of sexy, watching you eat fries."

"You think everything's sexy."

"Not everything," he told me in that honest tone he always seemed to have. "Just most things."

"Mmmm."

"Now what's my favorite?"

"Person? Me."

"Ha ha. Hardly."

"Bear."

"What's my favorite food?" He turned his head to the side, staring at me. "Bella?"

"Mmmm…Meatloaf."

"Is that your final answer?"

"Yes."

"Good job." He smiled at me. "How'd you know that?"

"I just do." Taking another bite of pizza, I added, "You know, 'cause I love you and junk."

He choked on his pizza. "You love my junk?"

"What?"

"Bella, that's rather forward, but-"

"That's not what I said."

"Yeah, okay."

"It's not! I said that I love you and junk."

"Well, do you love my junk?"

I blushed in the dark. "Considering I've never seen it, I couldn't give you my honest opinion."

For a second, we stared at each other, his head still turned to the side.

"Would you…like to?"

"Eventually, I think I have to."

He nodded as he slowly sat up, shifting the plate onto the bed. I was still, afraid to breathe. Was he going to-

"You will, won't you?" Owen smiled over at me as he stood. Still, I watched, uncertain if I should put a stop to it…or if I even wanted him to.

Alas, Owen just went over to the stereo and changed the CD, quickly returning to the bed and me. I pushed myself up now, sitting cross-legged on the bed, him following suit.

"What are we going to do tonight?"

"Eat," I told him. "It's a school night. You'll need to get home and go to bed at some point."

"I'm in a bed right now. And I rather like it."

"Really now?"

"Mmmhmm. It's comfy."

"I don't think guys are allowed to say comfy."

"Bella," he said, the tone of his voice giving off that he meant it to come out as a scold. "I'm for equality. If a guy can do it, a girl can do it. If a woman can say it, a man can say it."

"Oh whatever."

"It's true. It's what I believe. I'm a male feminist."

Blinking, I decided to challenge him. "So you're saying a man and a woman are completely equal? In every regard?"

"Yes."

"Then if a guy hit you, and I mean really hit you, like was going to keep hitting you, what would you do?"

"I'd stop him."

"By hitting him."

"If that's what it took."

"Then if a woman hit you and wouldn't stop, would you hit her?"

"No," he said, clearly offended. "Of course not."

"Then that's sexist, given your standards."

He stared at me for a moment. "So what? You want me to hit a woman?"

"No."

"Then are we on the same side or-"

"I don't even know anymore."

We both smiled, me giggling slightly. Owen reached out then, cupping my cheek. Leaning into his hand, I sat my slice of pizza down as I watched him watching me.

"I love you."

"Yeah, Bear, I love you too."

"And I really thought that we could actually do some things tonight, but now we can't."

"Huh?"

He nodded behind me, out the glass wall. "Your mom's home."

Turning slightly, I saw that he was right, Mom just pulling up to the house.

"Great," I mumbled. Then, blinking, I said, "At least we got pizza though, right?"

"Right."