Humbling Owen-Kyle
Cassyi offered you friendship and you spat in my facei owe you a black eye and two kissesyou wouldn't like me when i'm angryon the sidewalk bleeding short story
Milla cuts in, pressing her palm to her forehead, “this could go south so fast you’ll be packing your bags by the weekend. Like, changing towns level south.”
“He won’t do any of that,” I say, and honestly, I surprise myself with how steady I sound. “He might act all high and mighty every single day like he’s the second coming of Zeus, but he’s not bold enough or strong enough to pull something like that.” I cross my arms, leaning back as if this is something I’ve deeply researched, like I’ve written a thesis titled The Psychological Limitations of Owen Kyle.
“With the right motivation, he could,” Star mutters, not even blinking, like she’s seen that alternate universe already.
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