Chapter Four

Day Three Hundred Seventy-One

Owen awoke to the sound of someone pounding on his door. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and detangling himself from the cocoon he had procured during the night, he rolled out of bed and made his way to the front door to make the person that interrupted his dreams stop banging. He whipped open the door, ready to give whoever it was a piece of his mind, but swallowed the intended tongue-lashing when he saw a tear-stained Clare on his doorstep.

"Owen," she sniffled. Her cheeks began to match her red-rimmed eyes as she glanced over his half-naked form. "I'm sorry, I woke you up. I can come back later."

He placed his hand on her upper arm to stop her from turning away. "Clare, it's fine," he said, pulling her by the hand to the beat-up couch situated along the wall of the living room. "Sit down and breathe while I go change. We'll talk when I come back."

When it appeared that Clare had her knees locked in the standing position, Owen gently pushed her back and headed to his bedroom. He quickly dug out a pair of jeans and a shirt out of a hamper and pulled them over his boxers before returning to the living room. Clare was still sitting in the same place, gaze focused on the same unidentifiable spot, that he had left her in.

Shoving empty takeout containers and magazines to the side, Owen took a seat on the coffee table in front of her and took her hand in his, scrutinizing her appearance to find some indication that would tell him why he had found her gracing his welcome mat. But from the rat's nest that was her hair to the baby blue buttoned-up shirt paired with smiley-faced pajama bottoms, all he could deduce was that it had to be serious if she left her house so disheveled.

"All right, out with it Clare."

Clare blinked, her eyes still focused somewhere over his right shoulder. "He's getting married, Owen," she breathed, the shaky quality of her voice causing him to fell as though he had been punched in the gut.

"Who's getting married? The ex-boyfriend?" Owen asked. He waited a minute or two for an answer and shifted closer when he didn't receive one. "Clare, you're going to have to give me a little more to go on. Who's getting married?"

"Eli," she whispered, finally meeting his gaze.

"Didn't you two break up years ago?"

Clare shrugged. "Officially, yes." She detangled her hand from his and tucked her feet underneath her on the couch. "But have you ever had someone in your life that you just click with? Someone who you've dated for a while and even though it doesn't work out, that something that drew you to them in the first place never quite goes away? So you find yourself inexplicably drawn to them no matter what point in life you're at because they've become the epitome of what you see for your future."

Her words were another punch to the gut and he swallowed hard. But whether it was because he had never found what she had found in Eli or because he just realized that he had unknowingly found that in Clare, Owen had yet to figure out. "I can't say that I have."

"Well, that is what Eli was to me. He was that guy who embodied every stupid romance novel I ever read, every chick flick I ever watched and ever sappy teen drama that ever played on the television. I guess I always envisioned that we'd end up together for keeps one day, no matter what paths in life we were taking," Clare told him.

"But now he's getting married."

"Now he's getting married."

Owen swung around to where he was sitting beside her on the couch, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her down to relax against his side. "How did you find out?"

"Adam called me. We don't talk all that much anymore but he and Eli are still as close as they ever were. He thought I would want to know."

"Who's he going to marry?"

"It's some girl that he met through his publisher. He's a bonafide novelist now, you know."

"I heard something about that."

They sat together in silence; more tears falling from Clare's eyes as Owen mindlessly ran his hand up and down her arm. Owen thought from her evening breathing that she had begun to fall asleep until she shot up, startling him enough to break his hold. "I think I need to date more."

The change in her emotions happened so quickly he thought his head would spin. "I thought your heart was broken."

"It is. And that's why I need to date more."

"I'm not following you."

Clare moved her body until she was facing him completely. "It's simple, really. Every relationship I've ever been in is just that. A relationship. I've never done the whole going out for fun thing. I've never done the type of dating that you and Alli do."

"And what kind of dating is that?"

"You know. You meet someone, say in a bar or on the street, and you hit it off. You go out for drinks or for dinner, invite them back to your place and maybe you have fun but maybe you don't. Maybe you go out with them again but maybe you don't. The only thing that remains definite is that you don't fall for them and everything remains simply casual. I've never done that but I think it's time that I should start," Clare explained.

The look on her face told him that she had already decided that that was the new path to take for her life. But as the person who had just held her because of some guy she had dated years before, he felt that it was his place to voice certain concerns. "Clare, are you sure this is the right move to make? Did you ever think that there might be a reason that you've never been a serial dater?"

She eyed him warily. "What exactly are you saying?"

"I just…you're not like Alli and me. You've always been the type to wear your heart on your sleeve. You care too much, too fast, too hard, to the point that you actually feel guilty if you think that you might have hurt the person even if there was no way you could. Alli and I, we don't care if we never see the person again after we're through with them. We don't care if they get hurt when we forget to call because we're not that hurt if they don't call us," Owen told her. "But you, you're the type of girl who obsesses for weeks on end if they don't live up to one of their promises."

Clare stood. "Wait a minute, so because I think it's just human decency to return a phone call, I'm too emotional to have the ability to have meaningless relationships?"

"You tell me. Hell, you've been dreaming up scenarios where you reconnect with some guy you dated in high school for the last six years."

She stalked over to his door. "You know what, Owen, just because I happened to have a fantasy that I knew had no way of happening doesn't mean that I can't leave my emotions on the backburner when dating random guys. Did you ever think that dating random guys is just what I need right now, what Alli needs in her life because too many guys have broken her heart? I mean, just because we actually want to have fun doesn't mean we plan to sleep with half of Toronto like you do."

Clare had a hand on the doorknob and was about to exit when she said the last thing that would stay in his mind. "And did you ever think that the fucked up notion that returning a phone call equals attachment might mean that you're the one who is emotionally dysfunctional? Not I, not Alli, but you, the guy who has the never ending stream of women coming in and out of your apartment like it's a damned two-for-one sale at Macy's."

He jumped when the door slammed shut.

- O-C –

Day Four Hundred Eighteen

It had been a month since he talked to her and he found that he actually missed her. Like on the nights when he had a long day at work and all he wanted was someone listen to him groan and complain. Or on those lazy weekends when the sun was shining and he was close to reaching for the phone because there was nothing she liked more than to window shop when the weather was nice. And he especially missed her in the middle of the night when their favorite movie came on—the one that she can provide a running commentary to because she learned every word long before he even knew of its existence.

Even though she lived just across the hall, the feeling as though she had moved to some unknown island was quick to form. He had been tempted more than once to suck it up and apologize, just to have his best friend back in his life, but the fear that she would simply slam the door in his face constantly overrode that urge. And it's that fear that caused him to dodge her more than once and to hide in his apartment whenever there was a chance he could run into her.

It was another one of those nights when he wanted nothing more than to stand on her doorstep, hat in hand, begging for just a little leniency if not forgiveness. His boss had been riding his back all weeks about reports and deadlines and, now that it was Friday, all he wanted was to forget his life for a few hours. But the guys all had plans; none of his usual bedmates were all that appealing and trolling the local scene for someone new was enough to turn his stomach. So on a night made for partying; Owen Milligan was heating a TV dinner in his dimly lit apartment with the intention of watching whatever game was being shown.

He had officially hit rock bottom.

The microwave dinged and Owen burnt his fingers as he pulled his dinner out, swearing under his breath as he cooled them with his open bottle of beer. He peeled the film from what could only be called mush at best and took a fork from the draining rack by the sink. Taking a deep breath in to prepare himself as well as a long swig from the beer bottle, he was just about to take the first bite when the steady knocking on his door interrupted.

"Oh, thank God," he breathed, dropping the fork and gulping down the rest of his drink. He threw the uneaten dinner and empty bottle into the trash and went to answer the door for his savior. He didn't know who he was expecting to grace his doorstep but she definitely wasn't on the list of top ten. "Bhandari, you better have a good reason for beating down my door."

She forcefully pushed him to the side to gain entrance, dark hair flying wildly behind her, stopping in the center of the apartment with hands on hips and eyes flashing. Owen doubted she was much taller than five feet but her stance made her seem as though she was nearing seven. "I want to know what the hell you did to my best friend."

"I—" He cleared his throat. "Who said I did anything to her? Maybe it has something to do with her ex getting married."

Alli rolled her eyes. "Oh please, Clare was over Eli years ago. She just didn't want to admit it."

"Well, there you go. She's fine. Now, if you'd so kindly find the door."

"She is not fine. Explain to me how my best friend can be fine when she acting like a zombie one minute and a common whore the next. Explain to me why my best friend, the woman who used to come up with every excuse under the sun why she couldn't go out, is now with a different guy every other day. Explain to me, Owen, because the Clare I know doesn't do a complete one-eighty personality change unless someone said or did something," Alli ranted.

"What do you expect me to say, Bhandari? It's not like I'm the woman's keeper. Maybe she's just having fun like the rest of the world."

Her eyes widened to the point that it was almost comical as she marched up to him, jabbing two fingers into his chest. "I knew it. I knew you had something to do with her new outlook on life."

"What do you mean new outlook on life?"

"The one where she plans to bed half the population of Canada and it's just fine and dandy because they know it's just casual." Alli threw up her hands and paced to the other side of the room. "God, just when I think that she's right and you might not be such a bad guy. I want to know what you said, Owen, right now. What did you say to break my best friend?"

"Why do you think it's my entire fault? God, between you and her, a guy just can't catch a break," Owen roared. "Did you think that maybe Clare Edwards was already broken? The woman has had a fantasy in her head for eight years and that seems normal to you? She chooses one bad relationship after another because, I don't know, why does anyone choose one bad relationship after another? If that's not broken then what the fuck is?"

Alli was slightly taken aback by his words but quickly got ahold of her faculties once more. "I'm going to ask one more time," she said through clenched teeth. "What the hell did you say to her to send her off the deep end?"

Owen ran a hand through his hair, pacing the floor. "I said she was incapable of having meaningless relationships, all right? She came to me with the bright idea that she was going to sleep with whoever crossed her path like you and I do to get over Eli. And I told her that she didn't have the ability to do that sort of thing because she wasn't like us. Yeah, see, I'm the bad guy because I told the girl she was too caring and obsesses way too much over the guys she dates."

She stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief before breaking out in full-blown laughter. "Wait a minute, so Clare has had a constant stream of guys lately because she's trying to prove you wrong? Because she's trying to prove that she's not the relationship type?"

He shrugged. "I guess if you say it like that, then yes."

"Okay, so you're both idiots."

"Excuse me?"

"Rule number one when dealing with a Clare meltdown, agree with every inanely stupid idea she has; especially when she gets mind-blowing news like the Eli-Daphne engagement and makes the decision to become the next local slut. Trust me, those ideas usually blow over within a week and her embarrassment becomes great fodder for stories," Alli advised.

"So I'm supposed to lie to her and keep what I think to myself?"

Alli shook her head. "Only when she's not thinking logically and that is like barely ever. Better yet; just nod and smile and you won't have to lie. And when she calms down, then you sit her down and tell her everything that we all already know about Clare. Everything that sane Clare already knows about herself."

"So how do I know when that is?"

"Well…" Alli pondered that for a moment. "I guess it's something we all have to figure out on our own. Look, Owen, I was wrong and I apologize for barging in here like I did. You might just be good for my best friend after all." She skipped over to the door. "So you better go fix things before I make your life pretty much a living hell, okay? Good luck."

- O-C –

Day Four Hundred Thirty-Two

"Clare, come on," Alli whined, taking a flying leap on the bed. Bouncing, she jostled the outstretched form of her best friend and earned a half-hearted shove as a reward.

"No, go away," Clare demanded, her voice muffled by the pillow in which her face was buried in.

"You've been working nonstop, I've been working nonstop and I have declared this to be a girl's night." She smacked Clare on the ass and jumped off the bed before retaliation could take place. "Now get up. I want you dressed in your sexiest little black dress and hottest pair of heels because we are hitting the town."

"Alli—"

"No arguments, Clare-bear. We are doing this because it's been too long since the last time and I want a night with my best friend without men or other obligations getting in the way," Alli commanded.

Before Clare could formulate another thought, much less lift her head from the pillow to stare the other woman down; Alli had disappeared from the bedroom. And an hour later, Clare found herself being pulled by the hand to the entrance of a bar that was just on this side of shady, her body encased in a dress that was too short, too tight and too low-cut. The dress paired with a pair of heels that she was barely teetering on made her look like she was advertising and she couldn't stop pulling it up, down , any which way to cover just one more inch of skin that was impossible to cover.

The loud music and smell of greasy food assaulted her senses the moment she stepped across the threshold and she actually had to take a step back to adjust. She hadn't been to a dive bar since she was nineteen and her roommate had taken her for her first legal drink. Too many drinks coupled with an embarrassing vomit session in the parking lot had her swearing never to revisit a bar like that one again in her lifetime. A bar like the very one Alli had chosen for their appointed girls' night out.

However, it wasn't her surrounding that had her wanting to turn around, run to her apartment and lock the door behind her. It was the huge Happy Birthday, Owen banner plastered to the far wall and the man standing underneath it, a drink in his hand and laughter in his eyes.

"Oh, hell no," she breathed, beginning to turn to make a break for it when Alli's grip became vice-like. "Alli, seriously, what are we doing here?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but Owen is the best guy friend you have," Alli hissed. Clare's mouth opened to dispute the claim but her jaw quickly snapped shut. "And today is said best guy friend's birthday; hence, the celebration being thrown all around us."

"I can't…You know better than anyone that Owen and I are in the middle of a fight."

"Yeah, it's a stupid fight that never should have started in the first place."

"Alli!"

"What? I've left it to the two of you to handle it long enough. Since neither of you wants to take the first so I'm going to do it for you," she announced. Clare tried to dig her heels in as a marching Alli drug her behind but stilettos were the worst possible footwear to have on when attempting to accomplish that feat. Abruptly stopping in front of the man of honor, Clare luckily caught herself before she did a face plant for further embarrassment.

The only consolation Clare got was the look of shock on Owen's face when Alli seized his hand in the same grip and proceeded to drag them both back out of the building.

"What the fuck, Bhandari?" he sputtered once the doors to the bar closed, separating them from the small population inside. "You got a screw loose or something?"

"Hey, don't talk to her like that," Clare admonished.

"I'll talk to her however I want, Edwards."

"Oh, you must have lost a screw to if you think you can talk to me like that."

"Aw, is my harsh tone hurting your delicate ears?"

"Baby talk? You're seriously coming back at me with baby talk?"

"It's better than the screaming banshee voice you have going on."

"Oh my God, to think I actually missed you. How could I go a whole year without remembering how much of an immature asshole you actually are?"

"Sweetie, I'd rather be an immature asshole than a prude disguised as a slut. Don't you have a corner to get to?"

"Sure do. And I'll be certain to tell your date that you're on your way to pick her up."

"Yeah, that's real mature, Clare. You just astound me with your level of maturity."

"And you just astound me with your newfound level of wit. Tell me, have you taught the other cavemen lessons on witty banter?"

Meanwhile, Alli watching the mudslinging happening between the two and her patience was growing thin. Two grown adults bickering in the middle of the sidewalk like there was no possibility of an audience forming at any given time. While she might have been amused by this as a gossip-hungry teenager, she was purely humiliated as a woman. But it was helping her to gain some insight and God help her if she couldn't envision a future for the two that went beyond mere friendship.

The only problem was that they had to stop fighting long enough for that future to happen. "Okay, that is enough," she shouted, causing both to turn to her like deer in the headlights. "You two are fighting like a couple of damned two-year-olds but neither one of you is fighting about the real issues. And since you don't want to say it, I will."

She turned first to Clare. "Clare, you blew things way out of proportion and you need to admit that whatever Owen said that night made you angry because it hit too close to home. But being hurt didn't give you license to ignore the man. Let me tell you something, I know how it feels to suddenly lose you as a best friend and it's not a nice feeling. So suck it up, accept what he told you as the truth and just start talking to the man again. Maybe you could throw in an apology too."

"See, Clare—"

"And you," Alli cut him off. "Don't even think that you're not the tiniest bit at fault for the deep freeze between you two. I told you two weeks ago to apologize and make nice. I told you two weeks ago to calmly explain your point of view and talk things out. Compliment her, I said. Tell her that she doesn't need a constant stream of men to be okay, I said. Figure out how to be on good terms, I said. Fix things, I said. Did you do any of that? No, you didn't and now we're all standing outside a bar when this could've been done in a nice warm apartment.

Alli stomped over to the door and whipped it open. "So, you two better get on better terms tonight so I don't have to deal with the moping or I'm going to tear both of your hair out. Got it?"

"Got it," they replied in unison.

Owen held out his hand as they watched the door soundlessly slam shut. "Walk with me?"

Clare nodded, accepting the gesture and threading her fingers through his. They walked silently along—sneaking glances at each other when they thought it would go unnoticed, opening their mouths to break the silence but shutting them just as quick—until they reached a café that, while closed for the night, still had tables and chairs set up.

She shivered as she sat down, leading Owen to take his jacket off and slip it over her shoulders. Clare gave him a grateful smile and pulled the sides closer to her body, reveling in the heat that the jacket provided combined with traces of his body heat. He took the seat across from her and they merely stared at each other, two shades of blue—sapphire and ice—steadily crashing against each other.

"Owen, I—"

"Clare, I—"

They shared a laugh. "Let's start over. Owen, I need to apologize. I was a bitch. You were just trying to help that day and I blew everything you said way out of context. Worse yet, I've been holding it against you and that's not fair," Clare began. "And you were right?"

"I was right?"

Clare nodded. "I'm not like you and I'm not like Alli. Casual just isn't my style."

"From what I've heard, you've been doing casual just fine."

"Maybe on the surface," she said, crinkling her nose. "Inside, I hated every minute of it. But I guess I wanted to prove to you and to myself that I don't have to be a relationship girl, that I can have fun like the rest of the world and just date."

"And did you prove that?"

"I guess. I mean, I had more dates than in the last month and half with different men than I've had since I was fifteen."

"That doesn't really prove anything. Did you have fun on these dates?" Clare thought for a minute then nodded. "Did you actually have sex with any of these guys?" She cringed with disgust and violently shook her head, causing Owen to internally cheer. "Did you wish that something would come out of at least one date instead of having each one used to prove a point?" She pursed her lips together and nodded again. He grinned. "Well, there you have it. I officially declare you to be a relationship girl who knows how to have fun."

"What?"

"I was wrong about what I said about Alli. She is the relationship type. But how is she ever going to find Prince Charming if she doesn't kiss the frogs along the way?" Owen said. "The same goes for you."

Clare furrowed her brow as she thought over his words but soon broke out into a smile that lit up her face. She jumped out of her chair and threw her arms around his neck, turning her lower body so it landed on his lap. "You know that was as cheesy and sappy as any romantic comedy, right?" she whispered.

Owen knew. But he found as he wrapped his arms tighter around her that he didn't give a damn as long as he had his best friend back.

To Be Continued…