Chapter 12
Keaton
A month and a half after my dad died, I started my senior year of high school.
From the outside, everything probably appeared the same as it always had.
Rowan still hung out with the popular kids, the athletes, and the people who always seemed to know where the next party was going to be.
I still spent lunch with my friends on the benches near the library, dressed mostly in black and avoiding anyone who looked too eager to make small talk.
It was obvious word had spread about my father’s death because, during the first few weeks, teachers gave me concerned looks when they called on me in class, as if they worried I might break if they pushed too hard.
Homework deadlines suddenly had more flexibility, and the office staff offered awkward smiles when I passed them in the halls.
It didn’t last long.
By the middle of September, school had returned to how it always was. Teachers stopped looking at me like I was fragile. Deadlines were set in stone, and the office staff went back to threatening me with Saturday school if I didn’t get to class on time.
The only thing that still felt different was home.
During the first week after my dad died, my mom hardly left her room.
Eventually, she started coming out again, and not long after, she returned to work.
She’d picked up part-time jobs here and there as I was growing up, but nothing steady.
Now she was working more hours at the grocery store a few miles away, complaining about standing on her feet all day or getting home too late.
I overheard her talking to someone on the phone one evening about bills and mortgage payments.
Although she tried to keep her voice low, I still heard enough to know she’d already burned through most of the life insurance money.
It turned out the policy my dad had through his job was even smaller than we expected.
So I started picking up extra shifts at Sal’s Pizza.
At first, I told myself it was just to help out, which wasn’t exactly a lie. But that wasn’t the only reason. Ever since Rowan told me he wanted me in his life after high school, I couldn’t stop thinking about what that might actually look like.
The Air Force wasn’t just a vague plan he’d mentioned because his dad expected it.
He was actively working toward it. If I wanted any shot at going wherever he ended up, I knew I’d need more money.
More than I’d already saved from deliveries, tips, and whatever cash I could scrape together.
I needed enough to get out of this house and set myself up somewhere new.
I didn’t want to leave my mom in a bind, but I couldn’t plan my future around her.
No matter what, I would need to get out on my own one day.
So I worked a lot, and when I wasn’t working, I was usually with Rowan.
Just like now.
His bedroom door was closed, but that didn’t stop either of us from listening for sounds from the rest of the house.
His parents were in the living room watching TV, and even though they liked me and I’d spent more time in their home than mine over the years, that didn’t change the fact that getting caught half-dressed with their son would be a disaster.
I lay on my back across his bed while he hovered over me, one hand braced beside my head and the other sliding under the hem of my shirt. His mouth moved from mine to my jaw, then lower to my neck.
“This is torture,” I muttered.
He chuckled softly against my skin. “That’s what I was going for.”
I laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”
He pushed up a little and smirked. “Maybe. But it’s one of the things you like about me.”
That smirk made me want to kiss him again right away, so I did. Rowan shifted lower, pressing more fully against me, and every nerve in my body lit up at once.
Then the floor creaked somewhere outside his room.
We froze.
Rowan pulled back first, and both of us listened.
Nothing happened.
No footsteps.
No knock.
No voice calling his name.
Still, the moment was broken.
He let out a breath and rested his forehead on my shoulder. “I hate this.”
“Yeah, me too.”
I ran my hand up and down his back as we both tried to calm down. It wasn’t that what we were doing felt wrong; it was just impossible to relax fully when every little sound in the house made us jump and break apart.
After a minute, he slowly pushed himself up to look at me again. “We need a plan.”
“I know.” I looked up at the ceiling, then back at him. “My mom’s going to my aunt’s house on Friday.”
His brow lifted. “Overnight?”
“I think so. Apparently, my aunt’s having some kind of meltdown about her ex-husband again, so my mom’s going over there after work.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
He leaned back slightly. “So you’d have the house to yourself?”
I nodded. “What are you doing Friday night?”
“Football game, and then there’s a party I promised I wouldn’t miss,” he sighed.
I frowned. “Oh.”
“I said I promised I’d go. I didn’t say I’d stay all night.” He kissed the corner of my mouth. “I can leave early and come over after.”
I held his gaze, trying to play it cooler than I really was. “I mean, if you want to.”
He laughed softly. “I want to.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah. Good.” I ran my fingers along the back of his neck. “Because I’m kind of over almost getting caught every five minutes.”
“Same.”
We were quiet for a second, and then his mouth curved into a grin.
“What?” I asked.
“You realize this means you just asked me over for sex.”
Heat rushed up my neck immediately because I had. “I did not.”
“You totally did.”
“I said that my mom wouldn’t be home.”
“And then you asked what I was doing Friday night.”
I glared at him. “You’re so annoying.”
“You’re embarrassed.”
“I’m not embarrassed.” I quickly pushed him away before he could keep talking.
He fell onto his back next to me, laughing while I sat up and ran a hand through my hair.
“Seriously, though, there’s no pressure. I don’t want us rushing into something just because we finally have the chance.”
I lifted a brow. “Do you not want to?”
His stupid grin returned. “Of course, I do, but I want you to feel the same way.”
My thumb brushed over the back of his hand. “I don’t want to wait anymore. You’re the person I want to be with. To have my first time with.”
“And I want the same.”
We kissed a little longer, but I eventually had to leave.
I picked up my hoodie from the floor and pulled it back on.
At his door, I turned around to him and kissed him one last time.
Then I left and crossed the yard toward my house, already thinking about Friday night and how far away it suddenly felt.
By eleven Friday night, I’d been off work for an hour and had already checked my phone so many times, I was starting to wonder if there was a problem with my service.
Rowan’s game started at seven, so it should have finished by nine, maybe nine-thirty. He planned to go to the party afterward, but I’d expected a text by now with an update.
Instead, my phone sat silent on the kitchen counter. I tried to convince myself it wasn’t a big deal. I checked the game’s score online, and they’d won, so he’d probably lost track while celebrating.
By eleven-thirty, I picked up my phone and sent a text:
You alive?
Three dots popped up almost immediately.
Then disappeared.
Then came back.
Finally, a message came through:
Rowan: Yeah. Had a couple beers. Can you pick me up?
I frowned at the screen.
Did you drive over there?
I did. But I can leave my car here and get it in the morning
The last thing I wanted was to show up at a football party full of guys who definitely didn’t want someone like me there. But I couldn’t leave him stranded. Plus, we had plans.
Send me your location
A few seconds later, a map with a pinned location appeared, and I grabbed my keys.
Following the directions, I turned onto the street where the house was located. Cars lined both sides of the road, but I managed to find a spot a few houses down. I pulled out my phone and sent another message:
I’m here
I waited for a response, but got nothing.
After a couple of minutes, I tried calling again. The phone rang, but after the fourth ring, it went to voicemail.
Thinking he might not have been able to hear it over the music, I tried again, but he still didn’t answer.
“Seriously?” I grumbled, staring toward the house.
Some people walked past my car laughing, and I knew waiting outside would just make me look suspicious anyway.
With a sigh, I climbed out.
The closer I got to the house, the louder the music became. Bass rattled the windows, and the front door was half open with people drifting in and out. Luckily, no one stopped me when I walked up.
Inside, the place reeked of beer, sweat, and way too much Axe body spray. Bodies filled the living room with barely any space to move. Someone had pushed furniture against the walls to create a makeshift dance floor, and red plastic cups covered every surface.
I checked the kitchen first, but I just found a bunch of guys leaning against the counters, talking about the game.
I hurried out of there and slipped down the hallway.
Most of the doors were shut, and a few couples were making out against the wall.
At the end, a door swung open, and Rowan stepped out.
Relief hit me immediately.
“Rowan.”
He blinked when he saw me. “Keaton?”
The surprise in his tone made something twist in my gut. “You texted me to pick you up.”
“Right.” He rubbed a hand over his face, then laughed. “Shit.”
That laugh told me everything I needed to know. He’d had more than a couple of beers.
“You ready?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He stumbled closer, and I noticed his eyes were a little glassy. “You didn’t have to come in; you could have texted me.”
“I did text you. Then I called.”
“You did?”
“Twice.”
He winced. “Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not,” I lied. “Let’s just go.”
I turned toward the hallway, but he reached for my arm. “Wait.”
I spun around. “What?”
Instead of answering, he tugged me toward the nearest bedroom and shut the door behind us.
“Rowan—”
He kissed me.
Hard.
My brain short-circuited for a second. This wasn’t the careful, quiet kind of kiss we usually shared when we were sneaking around. His hands fisted my shirt like he’d been waiting for hours to do it.
I pushed him back a little. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to apologize.”
“This is a terrible idea,” I argued half-heartedly. Someone could walk in at any second, but I didn’t care because this was supposed to be our night together.
“Probably.”
He went to kiss me again, but just as his lips were about to meet mine, the bedroom door flew open.
“Yo—”
The voice cut out. Rowan jerked back so quickly, it felt like someone had ripped him away from me.
Westly, the same guy I’d gotten in a fight with last year, stood in the doorway with two other football players behind him. His eyes bounced between us. “What the hell’s going on in here?”
For a split second, no one spoke.
Then Rowan shoved me.
“Dude, what the fuck?” he snapped.
I stared at him because my brain couldn’t process what had just happened.
“You tried to kiss me,” he said even louder.
For a moment, I thought he was joking. “What?”
Westly glared at me. “You trying to take advantage of my boy or something?”
My heart pounded in my ears, and I glanced at Rowan. “Are you serious right now?”
He wouldn’t look at me. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, like he was annoyed. “I told you I’m not into that shit.”
The mouth that had been on mine ten seconds ago was now spewing lies.
My vision began to blur. “You’re the one who pulled me in here.”
Westly stepped forward. “Why the hell are you even in my house?”
“I came to pick him up.”
“Bullshit.”
“He asked me to.”
Westly laughed. “You’re that desperate you gotta make up lies about one of the most popular guys at school?”
That was it. Every ounce of humiliation, anger, and heartbreak boiled over at once. “Fuck you!” I snapped.
Westly moved closer. “What’d you say?”
“You heard me.”
He shoved my shoulder. “Watch your mouth. Remember, this is my house.”
I shoved him back, and then it was on.