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Chapter Thirty-Six

RUTH

G eorgie says some brief hellos to Rowan before darting away, saying something about ‘leaving you kids to it.’

Rowan and I are left standing in the living room, and it feels like we’re teenagers. He’s my date to prom, and we don’t know what to say to one another now that my mom’s left the room. What am I supposed to do with him? I mean, I know what I want to do with him, but that’s probably not on the cards.

“What are you doing here?” I decide to keep it direct.

He just shrugs. “Seeing you.”

It’s then that I notice the duffel bag he’s dragged into the room after him. “Did you come straight from the bus?”

Another shrug.

“You’re feeling awfully verbose tonight,” I say, quirking an eyebrow.

“Fuck.” It’s as if he deflates slightly. “I’m sorry.”

I see the dark circles under his eyes and how he’s holding himself up, like he could be knocked over at any minute. I feel a pang of worry at my usually stalwart man looking so fragile.

“You don’t need to be sorry.” I reach out and grab his hand, tugging him toward me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just tired and…nervous, I guess?”

I realize how true it is for me as well. Now that we’ve labeled things, it’s like neither of us knows how to interact. Though things are the same, we’re also in uncharted waters. I’ve never been in a relationship before, never been someone’s girlfriend, and I’m so afraid of doing something to fuck it up.

“Yeah.” I lean my forehead against his shoulder. His arm comes up to wrap around me like he doesn’t know he’s doing it, and my stomach flips, warmth spreading through me. “Me too.”

“It feels like I should act differently. I don’t know, I don’t know what to do.”

“I think we just do what we always do,” I mumble into the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll give you shit, and you can sigh like you wish you’d never met me.”

He sighs that put-upon sigh.

“That’s the one.” I grin up at him. “Come on, let me feed you.”

I manage to scrounge up some leftovers which Rowan gratefully accepts. He barely pauses for breath as he eats the day-old mac and cheese, like he hasn’t had a proper meal in days. He must be really hungry if he’s not even going to mention the dairy-free cheese sauce and the wheat-free noodles.

“When was the last time you ate?” I giggle at him as he scrapes the plate clean.

“Lunch,” he says a little sheepishly. “I eat a lot during the season.”

I grin. “Do you want anything else?” I ask as I turn back to the fridge. He doesn’t say anything as I dig around, looking for something else I can give him. “Ro?”

He clears his throat. “No, no, I’m good.”

I shut the door, leaning back against it. The look in Rowan’s eyes might have made me stumble if I hadn’t had it holding me up. It’s all heat, some kind of blazing hunger that pierces through me. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. There’s nothing really to say, not when he’s looking at me like that.

“Come over here.”

My feet move like they’re possessed, like he’s suddenly the gravity in the room. As soon as I’m within arm’s reach, he takes hold of my waist and tugs until I’m positioned between his spread thighs. “Is this okay?” he asks.

I nod as I reach to trace a line down the side of his face. His touch is light against my sides, a barely there caress as they move up and down my ribs. In turn, I run my hands through his hair, the waves soft as they tangle against my fingertips. “I’m really happy you’re here,” I whisper.

I gasp as his fingers creep under the hem of my t-shirt, brushing against the skin of my back. I hadn’t thought a touch could cause this kind of reaction, but I’m figuring out that with Rowan, it’s better if I just forget everything I think I know.

His fingers travel further, a slow exploration as he walks them up my spine. My top goes with him as it catches on his arms. I think he’s going for my bra and I start shifting in anticipation, but before he gets that far, he stops, resting his palms against my skin, fingers splayed like he’s trying to touch as much of me as possible.

“Can we go to your room?” he asks. His eyes widen as he hears himself, a flush creeping up his cheeks. “I’m not being presumptuous. I just keep thinking about your roommate coming back out here. I’m not really up to being social right now.”

I bite my lip, steeling myself to be brave, to put myself out there. “You can be a little presumptuous if you want to be,” I whisper. I want him so badly I’m half on fire with it, want anything he’ll give me.

“Yeah?” His fingertips flex against me and I wonder if he’s holding himself back. I wish he wouldn’t.

I nod against his hair. He puffs out a breath and I assume he’s going to release me so we can go, but faster than I can react, his hands come under my things and he stands, hoisting me up with him in one movement. “Jesus!” I exclaim, clinging on like he’s about to try and throw me across the room. Not that I’d be opposed to that in theory… I’d just need a bit of a heads-up.

As he heads to my door, his long strides eating up the space, I thank whatever impulse it was that had me straightening up my room this morning. I muffle my squeals of laughter in his neck, not wanting to disturb Georgie.

The click of the door shutting behind us echoes like a cannon in the quiet. Rowan seems to lose whatever confidence possessed him to carry me through the apartment and lowers me to the ground. I have to stifle a moan as I slide the length of his body until my feet hit the carpet, relishing the delicious friction. His hands don’t leave my waist, not letting me get far. “Are we doing this?” he asks softly.

“I’d like to,” I say, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from his eyes, “if you do as well?”

I get his answer when he crowds my space, not quite kissing me but keeping his mouth brushing mine, foreheads together as he moves forward. He walks us back until my knees hit the bed, and I go down.

There’s something heady about the way he looks at me, sprawled out below him. This is a far cry from the awkward grump I’m so fond of. This is the version of Rowan that comes out on the field, focused, in control.

His jaw ticks once as he leans down, his weight causing the bed to dip. I scoot back to give him some room, but he comes with me, moving like magnets. I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted anyone the way I want him right now.

I keep backing up until I’m sat with my back against the headboard, Rowan by my knees. He doesn’t look at me, even as he runs a hand absentmindedly up and down my shin, the nerves from earlier back. The way he’s blowing so hot and cold makes me uneasy, worried I’ve read something wrong here. I have to remind myself that this is Rowan, who’s given me no reason not to trust him.

Maybe it’s because he’s always so forthright, but I always know where I stand with him. I’m so used to trying to guess what other people are thinking and who they want me to be. With him, I never have to bother. He’s such an open book. I always know exactly what he wants, and so far, all he seems to want is me, just as I am.

“Can I tell you something?” His voice is quiet, something in it makes me want to curl myself around him and make sure nothing can get close.

“Of course.” I settle for picking up his other hand and twining our fingers together, bringing it up to press a kiss against his knuckles.

Another pause. I’m about to say something to settle him when he loops an arm under my knees and tugs. The breath huffs out of me with a shocked laugh as I’m suddenly staring up at the ceiling, flat on my back from where he’s pulled me down the bed.

“You know, I’m feeling a little manhandled over here.” I chuckle in mock indignation.

“Do you mind?” He positions himself next to me, propped up on an elbow, the length of him running parallel to my body.

“I suppose not.”

“Then I guess I’ll keep…” he pauses, frowning like doesn’t know how to finish the sentence, “handling you.” The final words come out slowly, his face twisting into a cringe.

“Will you now?” I deadpan.

He buries his face in the pillow. “That sounded smoother in my head.”

I chuckle as I roll onto my side to face him, letting him off the hook. “What did you wanna tell me?”

“It’s a little embarrassing,” he sighs.

I tilt my head, cooing a little. “Is it herpes?”

The laugh that comes out of him is so loud, so unlike him that I panic a bit and throw myself half on top of him to try and cover his mouth. “ Shh ,” I hiss. “You’ll wake up Georgie!”

“There’s no way she’s asleep.” His hands circle my wrists as he tries to wrestle me off.

“That’s worse!” I squeal. “She’ll hear us!”

“I really don’t think that’s my problem,” he growls as he flips us. Suddenly, he’s on all fours, hovering over me, and my breath halts in my throat. “If you don’t want her to hear us.” I feel his nose brush against the skin below my ear. “Then that’s on you, sweetheart.”

“I feel like you’re stalling,” I rasp.

“Let me.”

“No.”

He grumbles and I can’t help but grin. God, I’m so gone for this guy.

“It’s just that…” His eyes close like he’s in pain before he rushes out, “I haven’t actually done this before.”

Well. That wasn’t what I’d thought he was going to say, but my mind sticks on what he said before. “Why would that be embarrassing?”

“I guess people just assume that because I’m a guy, and I play football.” He considers his next words. “And I’m, you know…”

“Ridiculously attractive?” I offer.

He splutters, “I mean-you know, I just look a certain way.”

“A really hot kind of way.”

He tucks his face into my hair, giving me more of his weight. The pressure is grounding, soothing, as it presses me into the mattress.

“I feel like I’m expected to be that guy, but it’s just never been who I am, you know?”

My heart hurts that he’s felt like he has to play a role for so long. I know how hard it can be to try and hide the delicate parts of yourself, and the thought of Rowan going through that just about breaks my heart.

“You don’t have to be anything with me,” I whisper.

“I know.” The words are simple, but they hit me right in the chest.

“Can I ask why you haven’t?” I press a quick kiss to his temple. “You don’t have to tell me. I’d just like to understand.”

He sighs, taking some time to ponder over his words. “I don’t really feel attraction like most people. It takes me a while to get there, like I have to know someone pretty well for it to even occur to me that I might want to sleep with them.”

“Are you demisexual?”

There’s a jolt of panic as I say it without thinking. The last thing I want is for Rowan to feel like I’m trying to label him, or use words he’s not ready for. I’m about to apologize when he picks his head up, his face melting into a soft smile that turns me to goo.

“Yeah, exactly.” His eyes are shiny with the relief of being understood, and I could about burst with pride. The fact that I can give him even a fraction of what he gives me makes me feel like I just won a gold medal.

“Okay.” I shrug.

“Yeah?” He seems a little baffled that his revelation has gone down this easy. It hurts me to think that he was expecting something different, makes me wonder how people have treated him in the past when he’s come out to them. I want to find anyone who’s ever made him feel bad about who he is and kidney-punch them.

“Of course.”

I don’t know who moves first, but our lips meet, moving together in slow, drugging kisses. Our tongues duel one another, his warm breath ghosting over my cheeks every time he comes up for air. Heat builds low in my belly until I’m writhing under him like a creature possessed.

Rowan sits back on his heels and pauses for a long moment, staring down at me. When his hands move, they’re careful, deliberate. He takes each of my ankles and pulls off my socks one by one.

The action is so delicate in contrast to the way he hurls them behind him, not caring where they land. His hands travel up my legs until he hits the waistband of my leggings, thumbs grazing the skin of my belly where they tuck under my top.

“Is it just sex that you haven’t done? Or is it, you know, all of it?” I pant.

“All of it.” He doesn’t look at me; instead, he looks intently at where his hands are pushing my shirt up higher until he stops just under the line of my bra.

“You never wanted to?”

“It just never seemed that appealing.” He’s barely paying attention to my words, far more distracted by what’s under my clothes.

“And it seems appealing now?” I tease, delighting in the way his eyes rake all over me, bouncing around as if he’s not sure what he wants to see first.

“That’s one word for it,” he growls out.

“What’s another?”

“Necessary.”