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Chapter Fifteen

RUTH

H e looks at me like I’ve hit him. That stoic face twists in confusion, a deep groove forming between his eyes as he stares down at me. With anyone else, I’d probably start floundering, backtracking what I’d said until I’d twisted myself up in a knot so tight I’d barely be able to breathe. But there’s something calm about Rowan, something that makes me feel calm too.

I wasn’t lying, I do like him. Probably a lot more than I should, given our situation, but he’s fun to be around. He makes me feel relaxed in a way I don’t often feel. I get the sense that he’s used to being the guy people only call when they need something. My gut twists in shame as I remember the sound of his voice over the phone, running to my rescue like he knew that if he’d left me to my own devices, I’d have just fucked everything up ten times more.

The longer we stand in silence, the more I wonder if maybe I do want to flounder and backtrack? Maybe just a little?

“Rowan, I-”

“I’m gonna go wash the paste off my hands,” he announces, cutting me off as he heads toward the ensuite bathroom.

Oh god. I picture him going in, seeing the charts I’ve got tacked up, my medication on the edge of the sink, with the cap still off because I can never be bothered with the weird safety lid. I imagine his face, half pity, half wariness, as he finally realizes what a liability I am. Marshall’s words echo through my head, the ones he said when he saw my checklists.

Like kindergarten.

“No!” I snap. I shoot to my feet, almost head-butting Rowan’s chin. Glancing down, I can see that we’re almost toe-to-toe. He looks down at me, bewildered.

“Ruth, I need to-” He takes a step toward the door and I almost tackle him. I dart to the left, blocking his way as I grab both of his wrists in an effort to keep him in place. I’m sweating, my panic making me breathe hard.

“It’s kinda messy in there,” I blurt out. It isn’t technically a lie, but it’s not the whole truth.

“I’m not bothered by mess.”

“You can just use the kitchen sink. It’ll be easier.” I know I must sound crazy, but frankly, I’m too desperate to care.

“Easier how?”

“It’s really messy in there. I doubt your hands would even fit in the sink.” Frowning down at his very normal-sized hands, I wonder how long it’ll take him to decide that I’m a complete lunatic and never want to speak to me again.

He frowns down at me, eyes seeing more than I’d like. “It’s okay if you don’t want me to go in there. You can just tell me that.” He talks like he’s soothing a startled cat, like I’d scratch at his face and run away at the first wrong word.

I think I might be sick. My stomach churns at the gentle kindness in his words, but mostly at the way I hate that I need it.

“I don’t want you to go in there,” I whisper.

“Then I won’t.”

He takes a step back, and I almost don’t want to release my hold on his wrists.

As he walks back to my room after he’s finished, he pauses in the doorway, leaning against the frame. God, why is it so hot when guys do that? I have to shake my thoughts away, even as I work hard not to notice the way that his biceps bulge under the long-sleeved navy shirt.

“All clean?”

He wiggles his fingers in response.

“I remembered I haven’t said thank you yet.”

He shrugs. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“You deserve to be thanked for saving my ass.”

“I’m sure you would have figured it out.”

“I absolutely would not have,” I scoff, picturing the disaster that would have unfolded if I’d been left to my own devices.

Rowan’s eyes are hard. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Do what?” I tip my head to the side in bemusement.

“Say bad things about yourself.”

What the hell? I mean, he isn’t wrong, but I’m not about to tell him that.

“Do you do that a lot?” I spit back.

“Hmm?”

“Ask inappropriate questions.”

He pauses, really considering his answer. “Yes.”

I don’t know what my face is doing, but he gives a low chuckle and ducks his head slightly. I can almost catch a hint of red playing at the edge of his ears. Who had the audacity to make this man cute ?

“Well.” I put him out of his misery with a smile of my own. “I’m still glad you came.”

“Yeah, I am too.”

“You can’t think of a hundred better uses of your evening?” I quip, though insecurity threads my voice.

“No place I’d rather be.”

Even though I know it’s not true, I want to believe it. Does he just feel bad about the whole kidnapping thing? I bristle at the idea that he feels responsible for me somehow. I’m so sick of people pitying me, thinking they need to take care of poor chaotic Ruth, too much of a mess to look after herself…

“What’s going on over there?” Rowan’s head is tilted to the side, making him look adorably boyish.

I frown in confusion.

“Your face went all weird, like you wanted to throw something at me.”

“It’s just… Well… Ugh, it doesn’t matter,” I trail off.

“It matters if it’s bothering you.”

“It really doesn’t, I’m being dumb.”

He pushes away from the doorframe, not stopping until he’s firmly inside my personal space. My breath catches, and I’m suddenly painfully aware that we’re standing inches away from my bed.

“We’re friends, right?” The words rumble out from his chest and I almost want to press my cheek against it, to feel that deep voice vibrate into my skull.

“Right?”

“So stop assuming I don’t want to spend time with you.”

“I’m not-”

“You are,” he butts in. “And it’s getting a little annoying.”

Annoying. I cringe internally at the word I’ve been called so often. Always too much, too loud, too emotional.

Rowan presses on. “I came because I wanted to. I’m here because I want to be. Stop assuming that I don’t know my own mind. I’m a grown man, I don’t fuck around. I like being around you and I like fixing shit. So I’m here, fixing your fuckin’ wall and there isn’t a thing you can say that’s gonna make me feel bad about that. Okay?”

I’m struck dumb by his words. He seems a little surprised himself, like that outburst got away from him.

“Ruth.” He knocks his hand against mine. “That okay?”

“That’s okay,” I breathe out.

I feel myself shift imperceptibly toward him as the seconds pull taut, like there’s a magnet in my chest that has me rocking closer. I get a hit of his scent, all clean and soapy with a hint of something spicy. Neither of us says anything, content just to stare at one another. Rowan takes half a step forward, his sock-covered foot knocks against my bare toes. His eyebrows wrinkle like he doesn’t remember getting so close.

“Ruth.” I feel the word as a puff of air against my cheek.

“Ro-”

“RUUUUUUUUUUUTTTHHHH!”

The tension crashes down around us as the front door slams, Georgie barreling into the apartment. I can’t quite tell if she’s singing or screaming, but I do know that it sounds like a cat in a dishwasher. It must be singing because it turns into an off-key rendition of Jesse’s Girl , accompanied by the clattering of her throwing open every cabinet in the kitchen. In the next thirty seconds, she’ll probably start trying to bake something.

I sigh as I watch Rowan trying (and failing) to hold in a smirk.

“She’s snacky.” I shrug as if that’ll explain everything.

“Right.”

“She gets like this when she drinks. She sings, she snacks, sometimes she bakes, which’ll need some supervision. And, in about an hour, she’ll start cyber-stalking the entire cheer team and crying while trying to convince me to ‘prank call’ her ex.” I wince.

“Why are you the one calling?”

“Bri is less likely to recognize my voice.”

“Makes sense.”

“I think she just wants me to find out if Bri’s at home or if she’s with somebody else.”

“Bad breakup?”

“You have no idea,” I groan.

For a minute, I debate ignoring her, but a crash echoes through the apartment, followed by a muffled giggle.

I sigh. “I should go deal with that.”

“Sure, don’t worry about me.” Rowan quickly moves back to the window and starts tapping the wallpaper, making an effort to look busy. “I shouldn’t be too much longer. Just need to get the rail back up and I’ll be out of here.”

I feel a pang of disappointment. Which is stupid, right? He’s just doing me a favor. But that moment was something, I’m sure of it. The only thing I’m not sure of is what the something was.

“If you need anything-”

My words are cut off again by the sound of the oven turning on.

“Go.” He shoos me away with his hand, somehow holding back a laugh at how ridiculous this is. “I’ll let myself out when I’m done.”

“Okay, thanks, Rowan.”

As I head into the kitchen, I worry that I’ve just missed a chance I’m not getting back. I’m greeted by the sight of Georgie in a lilac sequined minidress and eye-watering heels, trying to mix dry ingredients in the plastic bowl we use for popcorn, and occasionally throwing up in.

“Rutheroni!” She beams, and all is forgotten as I smile back at my best friend. It’s nice to see her so happy, and the fact that she’s this happy to see me is the icing on the cake.

“Hey, Georgiepoo,” I chuckle, “you have a good night?”

“The best,” she slurs a little, her tongue edging out the corner of her mouth in concentration.

As she speaks, I realize I have no idea where she’s been. I feel bad that I was mad at her for breaking the bestie code the night of the football house when I totally failed to check in on her tonight. “Where did you go?”

“Me and the girls went to that place on 7 th ?”

I know the one. Georgie and I had talked about it, planning on going sometime with a couple of the girls from our economics class.

“I missed you.” She whispers like it’s a secret as she rests her head on my shoulder. She’s so cute when she’s drunk, all cuddly and silly.

“I missed you too.”

A tiny part of me is hurt that she didn’t invite me to go with her, but I quickly brush it off. She’s always been someone who hangs with different friend groups, flitting around like the very essence of a social butterfly.

I’m about to ask who she was with tonight, though I wonder if I really want to know. But before I can probe further, Georgie turns a worrying shade of green, spins on her heel, and pukes into the open oven.