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Chapter Twenty-Eight

RUTH

I ’ve been trying really hard not to think about Rowan, or at least to only think about him in a purely platonic, extremely non-horny way. But he doesn’t make it easy when he sends me random memes, or texts me to ask about my day, or when I see clips of his games and the way he looks in those pants.

I know what he’s doing; he’s not the kind of guy to ask idle questions. He’s trying to make me feel better. It’s as if he’s trying to dispel any lingering awkwardness through sheer force of will. I’m almost there. I can just about say his name without an inferno of embarrassment choking me, just so long as I don’t let myself think about that night.

We haven’t seen each other in person since he came over. I thought about offering to go to him; I felt bad about him always being the one to make an effort to travel, but I didn’t want to seem presumptuous. That and I don’t have a car.

When he calls after eleven days, I’m in the bathroom, face three inches from the mirror as I try to pluck a particularly stubborn eyebrow hair. I almost knock the phone into the sink, only saving it at the last second. I scramble to hit accept as I turn off the faucet, holding the phone with my shoulder as I set down the glass of water I keep in here to take my medication.

“Hi!” I say brightly, hoping I don’t sound like someone who briefly considered flushing her phone down the toilet.

“Do you want to come to a football game with me and my dad?” He rushes the words out like he’s trying not to lose his nerve.

“Excuse me?”

“We go every year. He went to Northridge; he likes to take me the first time they play Raleigh.”

“Okay?” I’m completely lost. I haven’t heard his voice in nearly two weeks, and now he wants me to meet his dad?

“It’s his thing, but it’s always kinda awkward. We don’t have the best relationship.”

I pause, letting my brain catch up. “Why do you go?” Rowan doesn’t strike me as somebody in the habit of doing stuff he doesn’t want to do.

“I dunno.” He sighs. “I guess I keep hoping that things might be better? Plus, it makes my mom happy.”

I frown, hating the thought of him being in such a shitty situation. “And you want me there, why?”

“You never stop fuckin’ yapping. Figured if he couldn’t get a word in, then he might not piss me off so bad,” he says sardonically.

“Asshole.” I have to work to keep the smile out of my voice.

I wander into the bedroom and perch on the edge of my bed. I try not to think about the way the covers still smell like him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that.” He’s quiet, like he doesn’t want to be overheard. Is someone with him? The roommate? “I just feel better when you’re around, I guess.”

Oh .

I don’t know what to say, how to deal with his openness except to try and match it. “I feel the same.”

I smile down the phone like a lovesick teenager. I have got to get a hold of myself. I love being Rowan’s friend, I can’t fuck it up or make it feel sour by pining over him like this. “I guess I could go.”

He clears his throat. “Okay, great. I’ll be there in like ten minutes?”

I bolt up at that, staring down at what I’m currently wearing. My sleep shirt hangs awkwardly off one shoulder, and my sweatpants bunch up around my knees like medieval pantaloons. “Ten?”

“Yeah, I’m just pulling into Allbreck now.”

“You were already on your way?”

“Yeah?”

“Rowan! Are you kidding me!” If this is going to be a pattern with him, then we need to have a very stern conversation about appropriate notice periods.

“What?” He sounds genuinely confused. “It’s a couple hours to Northridge. We need to get going.”

“I’m not dressed! What am I even meant to wear?”

“I dunno, what do you usually wear to games?” There’s a noise on the line, and I can definitely hear someone else in the background.

“A toad costume!” I hiss.

The stranger on Rowan’s end bursts into fits of laughter, and I can hear vague sounds of grunting and swearing.

“Whatever,” he all but growls. “Just don’t wear red. That’s what the Raleigh fans wear.”

“That’s really not helpful.”

“I don’t know, Ruth! Wear whatever you want, you always look fine.”

“High praise,” I say sourly.

“You know what I mean, you’re always pretty.”

“Thank you.” I huff, even as heat rises across my chest.

“I’m gonna go. I’ll see you soon, yeah?” The click of his blinker starts.

“Fine, bye.” I’m being a brat, but I don’t have it in me to feel bad. Picking me up with ten minutes notice is grounds for a bit of grumbling.

“Make sure you wear sunscreen!” the man who’s not Rowan yells right before the call disconnects.