A/n: This is currently a one shot, but may become part of series, depending on how much time/inspiration I have to work with. Thanks for reading!

I Say Hello

Hello, hello. I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello.

Grey breathed a sigh of relief as her key turned in the lock. She was finally home. And since her parents were in Florida, she had the house to herself. Normally, she would have been glad to see her family, but she was exhausted and just need some alone time to regroup.

She walked into the kitchen and placed her purse down on the counter before opening up the fridge to look for something to eat. She paused when she heard noises coming from the den. It sounded like someone had left the TV on. But her parents had been gone for three days, and it was unlikely that they would have left the television on before leaving for vacation. She closed the door to the fridge, and carefully made her way down the hall towards the den. She could see that the lamp was on, and someone had definitely left the television on as well. She stood, peeking in through the entryway silently, so as not to give her presence away to a potential intruder. But really, who breaks into someone's house to watch their cable? They didn't even have premium.

"Hey, Grey." A familiar masculine voice interrupted her ponderings. Grey jumped, and then glanced over at the tall, dark haired figure seated in the armchair. Apparently she hadn't been as quiet as she had thought.

"…Owen? What are you doing here?" Was this some kind of cruel joke?, she wondered. Because I really do not have the energy to deal with Owen Andrews right now.

He pushed himself up out of the chair and approached her. "House sitting, didn't your mom tell you?"

"Guess she forgot to mention that," Grey muttered, staring determinedly at the carpet.

A corner of his mouth quirked up. "Is that really any way to greet a friend? You haven't even said hello to me yet, Monochrome."

Yeah, a friend, Grey thought bitterly. Is that how he thinks of me? But she still felt a twinge of something at the nickname. Owen was the only one who ever called her that. She looked up at the television over his shoulder, which was currently showing Back to the Future (Part one, if she was correct), and her lips twitched into an almost-smile. Classic Owen, she thought. Glancing back at him, she saw that Owen was watching her expectantly.

"Oh, sorry. Hi, Owen. Good to see you." Her voice sounded forced, and she was still stubbornly avoiding eye contact. But it was good to see him. Kind of. She did need to see him, to clear up some things that they hadn't gotten time to discuss last time they had seen each other. And, though she was reluctant to admit it, she had missed Owen. But she really did not have the energy to talk to him now. She had no idea what she was going to say, or how he felt about the whole thing. And honestly, she was scared out of her mind. She didn't have much experience with this sort of thing, and this wasn't just any guy she was dealing with, this was Owen. Owen, whom she had known since she was five.

"Good to see you too, Grey."

Owen, her childhood best friend and high school verbal sparring partner.

Owen, who had slept on her bedroom floor for a week after his grandmother died last year.

Owen, who she had kissed in the kitchen after blurting out her feelings to him during a shouting match.

That was a month ago. Grey had left for London early the next morning, and she hadn't seen or spoken to him since. What if he thinks I forced myself on him?, she worried. What if it makes things awkward between us?

Grey couldn't deal with this now, and so decided to do what she did best in situations like this one: run away. "Well, I'm pretty tired, think I'm just going to head up to bed now…" She forced a yawn and turned around to head towards the stairs.

"Grey, wait!" Owen grabbed her wrist before she could retreat to her room.

She bit her lip nervously, and turned back around to face him. "What?"


She looked up. Owen's expression was inscrutable as always, his gray eyes searching hers. He had loosened his grip on her wrist somewhat, but he was still holding her arm. She was trapped.

"What, Owen?" she was surprised when her words came out steadily; her stomach was in knots.

"Grey, I just wanted to say…" He closed his mouth, and then opened it again, as if about to say something. He paused. Grey looked at him quizzically.

"Hey," he finished.

That was it? Grey was about to question him further when he stepped closer, dropping her wrist and snaking his arms around her waist. Grey's eyes opened wide with surprise, and she was about to protest when he pulled her in closer and pressed his lips to hers.

It took her a few moments to get over the shock before she could respond, but then she leaned into the kiss. Her arms, which had hung limply at her sides, wound their way around Owen's neck. She felt him smile against her before pulling her in closer, deepening the kiss. Her fingers threaded through his hair. His tongue traced her mouth until her lips parted to allow him access. She followed suit, her tongue exploring his mouth. She heard a guttural moan from the back of his throat. Did I do that? she wondered, amazed. But she didn't have much time to gloat, because Owen's hands had loosened themselves from around her waist, and were now moving slowly up her sides. He paused for an instant before grazing her breasts through her thin T-shirt. Grey shivered. He moved his hands back down to her waist and began to trace slow, sensual circles on her lower back. Damn, the boy could kiss! Grey hadn't felt the full effect that first time in the kitchen; they had been interrupted before anything major had happened.

They finally broke apart, breathing heavily, with pink cheeks and swollen lips. Grey rested her forehead against Owen's.

"Hey yourself," she said, breaking out in a full grin.

"You have no idea," Owen muttered huskily, "How much I've wanted to do that. Especially for the past month."

"Oh, I bet I do." She pecked him on the lips again, grinning even more broadly.

"So you missed me, huh?" he said smugly.

"Well…" Grey pulled back a little to look at him and pretended to think about it. "Maybe a little. But not half as much as you missed me."

"I don't know about that," Owen said, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

"Face it, Andrews. I'm just more miss-able than you are." Grey smirked. "Probably because of my sparkling personality."

"Actually, I think it's more due to the fact that you have a very cute a—" Grey smacked his arm.

"Owen Andrews! Finish that sentence, and I will be forced to tell the guys that you own an Alanis Morrisette cd," she threatened.

"It's my sister's!" Owen cried defensively. "And I was just going to say that you have very cute ankles. Really. I've always been a fan of your ankles." He smiled innocently.

"Of course you have."

"But really. They're very cute. I don't think I've ever seen ankles quite as nice as yours."

Grey faked a look of surprise. "Why, Owen Andrews! Are you flirting with me?"

"Well, Grey MacKenzie," Owen replied, trying (and failing) to repress a grin, "I do believe I am."

A/n: So? This is the first story I've published on fictionpress. I never intended to write anything when I joined; I'm more of a reader. I'm a biochemistry major! We're not supposed to be creative! I'm not going to ask you to go easy on me, because frankly, I'd be excited to get any kind of response at all. So, even if you thought this was the most poorly written inane piece of garbage you've ever read, go ahead and tell me. And yes, this title is taken from the Beatles song. Which I do not own.

Update: I recently wrote a prequel to this...it's called I Don't Know Why You Say Goodbye, and you can access it through my profile (after you finish reviewing this one, that is!).