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Chapter Thirty-Five

RUTH

I have to take my coat off as soon as I get through the door of the campus library. The heat’s blasting to combat the chill outside, but they might have gone a little overboard. My psych textbooks are heavy, weighing down the tote bag until it’s digging into my shoulder.

After lunch, I had a random urge to catch up on all my notes. I know my brain well enough that I know how to ride the wave of motivation until it runs out. I’m hoping the lack of cell signal in the library will help me stay on track at least a little.

I’ve got four hours until my medication starts to wear off, and I need to make the most of every second.

“Ruth!”

I turn to see Clara heading toward me.

“Hi!” I say, relieved to see a friendly face. My excitement wanes as I realize that she’s zipping up her coat. “Are you going?”

“I have class.” She winces.

“Oh, that’s too bad.” I glance around at the tables. The full tables. Shit, maybe I should have tried to reserve a study space?

She slings her backpack onto her shoulder. “We should set something up though. How was that meeting with Melville?”

I cringe a little at the memory of my professor’s disappointed face. “Not so good,” I say sheepishly. “She gave me some extra assignments to try and make up my grade. I’ve still got two more to do.”

“That sucks.” She reaches out to give my hand an apologetic squeeze. “I’m running late, but text me, okay? You have my number, right?”

“Yeah, you’re in the Econ group chat?”

“Awesome, maybe we can do those assignments together?”

“Really?”

“Of course! It’ll be fun.”

Then she’s out the door, her skirts swishing behind her. I weave through the room, trying not to bump people’s backs with my bag as I frantically try to find a free table. Shit, this place is packed. I’m about to give up when I spot Steph sitting with a guy I don’t know at a corner table.

Not waiting for the space to fill up, I head over, accidentally barging into someone as I go. “Sorry!” I splutter out without stopping. “Oh my god, I’m so glad to see you here,” I say as I dump my stuff. “I was about to give up on finding a spot.”

Something flashes across Steph’s face as she looks up, but it’s gone before I can read what it is, replaced by a wide smile. “Hey! What are you doing here?”

“I need to catch up on psych stuff. I swear I’m about to flunk out,” I laugh, even as I cringe at how true that statement probably is.

“Oh, jeez,” she chuckles. “Sorry, you guys haven’t met.” She gestures to the guy sitting next to her. “This is Charlie.” Then she points to me. “This is Georgie’s roommate, Ruth.”

A trickle of unease moves down my spine at the way she labels me. Georgie’s roommate. Like she and I don’t know each other, like we don’t share a study group.

Charlie sticks out his hand. “Yeah, hi. I think Steph mentioned you.”

I take it and give it a firm shake, letting his recognition soothe the sting. Before I can say anything more, Steph pointedly opens her notebook and starts writing in a lazy scrawl.

Did I interrupt something?

I push the thought aside and try to focus. It takes a while for my brain to get into the work zone, but eventually, it’s like I’ve managed to force it into submission. If only I could do this every time I have something due.

Marshall’s notes are concise but have everything I need. I’m once again reminded how grateful I am that he sat down by me in English last year. I would not have made it through half my classes without him.

Nobody says anything for a long time and eventually, I can’t take the silence anymore. I’ve always been someone who’s had to fill gaps in conversation, but this feels loaded, especially now. It’s like we’re waiting for something, but I have no idea what. “What are you studying for?” I lean forward, asking in a hushed tone.

“Econ,” she answers without looking up.

Okay… I guess she’s in the zone. She usually talks a lot while she’s working, but maybe she’s really trying to lock in today. I duck my head back down. I’ll work for another half hour, and then I’ll take a break.

The rustling of bags grabs my attention. Steph’s stood, packing her books into a satchel. “You’re going?” I try not to let the disappointment show. I’d hoped she’d stay and hang out for a while.

“I’m seeing a movie.”

“She’s ditching me,” Charlie adds with a chuckle, nudging her playfully in the side.

“It’s a girl’s thing!” Steph giggles.

“A girl’s thing?”

She looks down at me like she’s just remembering my presence. “Oh, yeah.” Her voice is all forced levity. “Just from class, it’s no big thing.”

“Econ?” I ask.

“Uh, yeah.”

I’m in her Econ class.

I try to play it off, but I must not be as good an actor as I thought because Steph starts shuffling from foot to foot, awkwardly mumbling, “Georgie couldn’t make it so we figured you wouldn’t want to…”

“Oh no, it’s fine!” I wave her away, trying not to sound hysterical. “I better get going too, but this was fun! We should do it again!” I’m stuffing books into my bag, uncaring that the corners are getting all bashed up in my attempts to get out of that room as fast as possible.

I probably knock into half the people in the library during my exit, but I barely notice. I’m just trying to get into the fresh air before the sting of tears threatens to bubble over.

I hate this about myself, how I react to even the slightest hint of rejection. Somebody could walk past an open seat next to me on the bus, and I’d spend the rest of the ride building an exhaustive list of everything about me they found so repugnant.

When I shut the apartment door behind me, I see Georgie sprawled out on the couch, head tucked into some bodice-ripper historical romance. “Hi, sweetie, " she calls without looking up. “There’s risotto on the counter if you want some.”

I look over to see the dish, my stomach suddenly growling. Next to the sink is a half-empty bowl with a chopped-up bell pepper that she’s mixed into her own portion.

God, I love her.

“You wanna watch more of that show?” she asks, setting her book down. We started some grisly true crime documentary last night, but given how much of it we spent with me talking about Rowan, and her squealing every eight seconds, we might have to restart.

I get myself a bowl and head over to the couch. Georgie grabs one of the thousand throw blankets she has around the apartment and spreads it across both of our laps.

“Does Steph hate me?” I ask halfway through the episode. The question’s been gnawing at me since the library, and I can’t let it go.

“What?” She pauses the show, giving me her full attention.

“Does Steph hate me?”

“What happened?”

“You’re not answering my question.” Her evasiveness is making me itch.

“Of course she doesn’t hate you. Why are you saying that?”

“I don’t know.” I cover my face with my forearms. “I just had a weird run-in with her today.”

“I can’t help you until you tell me what happened.” She pulls my hands away, revealing my cringe.

I fill her in on the encounter with Steph, how she’d written me off as ‘Georgie’s Roommate’ and everything that came after.

Georgie looks pensive, taking a minute to chew on her answer. I feel like I’m not going to like it.

Before she can speak, the buzzer goes off, both of us jolting at the noise. Georgie moves, pushing my feet off her lap as she goes to answer. As she listens to whoever’s at the other end of the intercom, her face morphs into a Cheshire Cat smile. “It’s your boyfriend,” she whisper-yells, dancing from foot to foot in excitement.

I straighten, almost tipping my bowl onto the carpet. “What is he doing here?” I hiss back.

She shrugs at me, all wide eyes as she hits the button to buzz him in. “Ask him yourself, he’s your man.”

Holy shit. Okay, yeah, Rowan’s downstairs. Although he’s probably halfway up by now. I glance down at my outfit and try to smooth my hair down a little.

“He knows what you look like.” Georgie giggles, her back to me as she heads into her room.

“Wait, are you going?” I move like I’m going to chase after her. “You don’t wanna meet him?”

She pauses. “Do you want me to?”

“Obviously.”

“Okay, sure,” she shrugs, “if you want.”

“You don’t have to,” I rush out.

“No, I don’t mind.”

I’m about to press the point when three knocks echo from a heavy hand on the other side of the door. For a second, I’m frozen, staring at the wood as if it’s going to magically evaporate. What is wrong with me? I’m acting like a teenager with her first crush.

I guess it’s just the ‘boyfriend’ thing that’s new, but does putting a label on things really make them that much different? It’s like I was all ready to dive into a relationship when it was just an abstract, but now that it’s real, now that he’s here at my apartment, I’m floundering. What am I supposed to say to him?

“Get a grip,” I mutter to myself, storming toward the door in three long strides and grabbing the handle, throwing it open with far more force than necessary.

Rowan’s face goes from that deep scowl it seems to relax into, to shock, to a gentle smile as he takes me in. His eyes trail a slow perusal up and down my body that leaves shivers in its wake.

I don’t say anything before he steps forward, warm hands coming up to hold my face as he bends his head to mine. We’re like willows in the breeze as his nose traces a slow line against my cheek, a tiny nuzzle that has butterflies exploding.

I tip my head up in invitation and he needs nothing else, his mouth taking mine in a long kiss. It’s slow, and thorough, and has me gasping for breath when he finally releases me. He doesn’t move away, peppering a line of kisses across my cheek, pausing to nip at my ear. “I missed you,” he growls, his voice a low rumble against my skin.

“Oh,” the words escape high-pitched and breathy, “That’s good.” I cringe as soon as I say it, but Rowan doesn’t seem to mind. He bursts out in a fit of laughter, hiding his face in my hair, arms banded tightly around my waist. We end up swaying side to side, wrapped in a tight hug while we both get our giggles out.

“I missed you too,” I eventually remember to say.

“Oh,” I can feel his grin against the skin of neck, “That’s good.”