Rowan #3
Rowan’s hawk clicked his beak together, and Rowan sighed to himself. He wasn’t offended by Milo’s comment about crows, but it was clear his hawk was. “I don’t always attribute a person’s temperament or mannerism to their shifter beast,” Rowan said, hoping that would settle his hawk.
They were almost nothing alike, he and his beast. His hawk was powerful, intimidating, and aloof.
That description better fit Riley, the elite businesswoman who had launched not one, not two, but three companies to success.
He was just the numbers guy who came in after the fact to run the first company with Raina’s mate, Troy.
Actually, if anyone took after their shifter beast the most, it was Troy.
He was every bit the stately moose, exerting just enough charisma to win over stakeholders and tower over their competitors.
Rowan much preferred working behind the scenes.
His specialty was facts, figures, and hard work.
He wasn’t flashy or impressive like his siblings or brother-in-law, but he liked to think he got the job done.
“Oh, really? I think I’m a lot like my pony,” Milo said, as they pulled out their apple from earlier. They took a large, crunching bite, and Rowan could immediately picture the four-legged animal, tossing their blond mane and nickering happily. It was strangely endearing, in a way Milo was not.
At least, not at first glance.
Rowan’s phone vibrated, and he gracelessly scrambled for it, which should have been embarrassing, but Milo didn’t seem like one to judge. They were currently finishing off their apple, core and all.
Rowan swiped open his phone to find a screenshot of his ticket and a brief message.
Ruben: Will be there in twenty. Grab some food, and I’ll see you in there.
Rowan sighed and darkened his phone screen, looking up in time to see the door to the theater open. Sadly, Ruben didn’t magically appear in the doorway with an apology ready for being so late. Truly, if Ruben would just apologize from time to time, it would take some of the sting out.
No, his more attractive, more talented older brother did not appear in the doorway.
Instead, a short woman with a walker shuffled her way inside.
Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on Rowan.
One gray eyebrow raised towards her hairline and was quickly joined by the other as she turned her head and spotted Milo.
She opened her mouth, but didn’t even get Milo’s full name out before they were rushing across the room to meet her. With impressive dexterity, Milo unhooked the oxygen tank that had been swinging precariously from the bottom rung of her walker and held it protectively against their chest.
“Your muffins are horrible, Ethel. They nearly killed this sweet man I met,” Milo said, just loud enough for Rowan to hear. “You win. We’ll get popcorn and hot dogs. Do you want a slushie, too? If we’re gonna go against doctor’s orders, we might as well go all out.”
Ethel turned her head to look at Rowan again, her dark blue eyes shrewd and assessing, even from across the room. She murmured something to Milo, who glanced at Rowan and gave him a quick wave.
“He’s seeing a movie with his brother. We shouldn’t bother him,” Milo said.
Ethel shook her head before turning her walker towards the concession stand and beginning the long trek across the atrium.
Rowan’s hawk shifted from foot to foot, too agitated to settle down in his nest. Rowan also felt a little…
disappointed wasn’t the right word. Of course, he wasn’t expecting an invitation from Milo to watch the movie with them.
He wasn’t even expecting to be introduced.
Rowan had never been close to any of his older relatives, but if he had, he probably wouldn’t have introduced them to a stranger either.
It’s just that they didn't really feel like strangers anymore.
If Rowan was his brother or either of his sisters, he would follow Milo and Ethel to the concession stand, and maybe they would continue chatting and possibly even exchange numbers.
Maybe Rowan and Milo could go see their own movie together one day.
Not a romance or an explosion-filled action film, but a horror movie that would let them lean in close, until Milo’s scent nearly enveloped Rowan.
It was only now that he realized the sweet smell had been of apples, as if their pony ate them so often, they’d begun to smell like the crisp fruit.
They could share a bag of popcorn and pass a drink back and forth. Then, during a scary scene, Milo would reach for him, and he would—
Rowan’s hawk fluffed up his neck feathers and squawked.
He would pull away. That’s what he would do. Because that’s what he always did. And that was usually what ended most of his first dates—and quite a few of his friendships.
No, Rowan wouldn’t be doing any of that.
He stood up and cleared the table of their mostly empty glasses. As he walked by the concession stand, he thought he caught the flash of gray eyes, but he forced himself to keep going, walking empty-handed into the theater to wait for his brother.