Confess: A Novel by Colleen Hoover

Author:Colleen Hoover [Hoover, Colleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
ISBN: 9781476791456
Google: 1PKsBAAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1476791457
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2015-03-10T00:00:00+00:00

All we’re doing is cooking pizza, but it’s the most fun I’ve had with a guy since Adam. Getting pregnant at the age of fifteen doesn’t leave a lot of time for social interaction, so saying I’m a little inexperienced could be an understatement. I used to grow nervous at the thought of getting close to another guy, but Owen has the opposite effect on me. I feel so much calmness when I’m around him.

My mother says there are people you meet and get to know, and then there are people you meet and already know. I feel like Owen is the latter. Our personalities seem to complement each other, like we’ve known one another our whole lives. I had no idea until today just how much I need someone like him in my life. Someone to fill the holes that Lydia has created in my self-esteem.

“If you weren’t in such a hurry to graduate, what career would you have chosen other than cosmetology?”

“Anything,” I blurt out. “Everything.”

Owen laughs. He’s leaning against the counter next to the stove, and I’m seated on the bar across from him. “I suck at cutting hair. I hate listening to everyone’s problems while they sit in the salon chair. I swear, people take so many things for granted, and hearing all their whiny stories puts me in such a bad mood.”

“We’re kind of in the same business if you put it that way,” Owen says. “I paint confessions and you have to listen to them.”

I nod in agreement, but also feel like I could be coming off as ungrateful. “There are a few really good clients. People I look forward to. I think it’s not so much the people that I don’t like, but the fact that I had to choose something I didn’t want to do.”

He studies me for a moment. “Well, the good news is, you’re young. My father used to tell me that no life decision is permanent other than a tattoo.”

“I could argue with that logic,” I say with a laugh. “What about you? Have you always wanted to be an artist?”

The timer goes off on the oven and Owen immediately opens it to check the pizza. He shoves it back inside. I know it’s just a frozen pizza, but it’s kind of a turn-on to see a man take over in the kitchen.

He leans against the counter again. “I didn’t choose to be an artist. I think it kind of chose me.”

I love that answer. I’m also jealous of it, because I wish I could have been born with a natural talent. Something that would have chosen me, so that I wouldn’t have to cut hair all day.

“Have you ever thought about returning to school?” he asks. “Maybe majoring in something you actually have an interest in?”

I shrug. “One of these days, maybe. Right now, though, my goal is AJ.”

He smiles appreciatively at my answer. I can’t think of any questions I want to toss his way, because the silence is nice.

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