Chapter 25
twenty-five
I swear I can still taste Rowan on my lips. The buzz of the tattoo gun grates on my ears, and it takes everything in me to focus on my work. Thank fuck this is my last appointment of the day.
Shifting slightly in my chair, I try to get more comfortable as I continue shading the delicate feather pattern on my client’s forearm. The monotonous buzz of the tattoo machine usually centers me, but today it just adds background noise to the chaos in my head.
“Doin’ okay over there, Lizzy?” Carter asks from his station. “You’ve been super quiet all day.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, keeping my eyes on my work. “Just concentrating.”
My client, a woman in her thirties getting her first tattoo, winces slightly as I hit a sensitive spot near her wrist. “Sorry,” I murmur, easing up on the pressure. “Do you need a break?”
“No worries. I’m good,” she says, offering me a brave smile. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks,” I nod, briefly returning her smile before refocusing my attention on the delicate lines and shading.
Normally, I’d be chatting with my clients, asking about their lives, sharing stories. But today, all I can think about is Rowan’s hands on my face. His lips on mine. The way my entire body instantly responded.
And then the shit about being his fake girlfriend. I knew he was looking for one. Hadn’t given it a second thought since my brother brought it up. At the time I couldn’t have cared less.
But now? Not so much.
The tattoo gun falters in my hand, and I quickly pull back, taking a deep breath.
“Do you need a break?” my client asks, a look of concern on her face.
“No, we’re almost done.” I dip my needle back into the ink. “Just another few minutes.”
As I finish wrapping it, I give her the usual aftercare instructions, my voice on autopilot while my mind races elsewhere.
“It looks amazing,” she grins, admiring her new ink.
“Glad you like it. Just make sure you follow the care instructions, and it should heal perfectly.”
After she’s gone, I slump back in my chair, finally allowing myself to exhale. I roll my shoulders, trying to release some of the tension that’s been building all day.
“Alright, what’s going on with you?” Carter exclaims, wheeling his chair over. “You’ve been distracted all day.”
“Nothing,” I huff. Swiveling in my seat, I start cleaning. “Just tired.”
“Bullshit,” he says with a knowing look. “This is about Rowan, isn’t it?”
My head snaps up. “How do you know?”
He grins. “Small town, remember? Plus, I overheard Jax talking to Ryder this morning.”
Great. Just what I need—shop gossip.
“It’s no big deal.” Annoyed, I swipe my towel over the metal top of my station, almost knocking over a few bottles of ink. “Goddammit,” I hiss.
“If you say so.” Carter leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “But if you need to talk...”
“I don’t,” I say a little too quickly as I give him side-eye.
He holds his hands up in surrender. “Just offering.”
Immediately feeling bad for snapping, I sigh.
When I look up at him again, he tilts his head. Dark blond hair falls over his forehead, lean muscle fills out his T-shirt and jeans, and the smile he gives me? It’s one that a few months ago would’ve had me contemplating giving him a good bounce, or tearing into him like a lion on a gazelle.
But that rooster is no longer allowed in my hen house. Nope. No cock-a-doodle-doo allowed.
The thought makes me snort.
“What’s so funny?”
I find myself shaking my head, returning his smile without a second thought. “Nothing.”
“How about I take you to lunch instead?” he asks, hope edging into his voice.
“Thanks, but I think I’m gonna go work out.”
Carter leans in, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Need a sparring partner?”
“Nah, babes. I’m good.” I grab my bag, tossing over my shoulder. “Maybe another time. You need anything before I go?”
“Nope,” he answers as he gets up, shoving his hands in his pockets. “The offer still stands. If you need to talk.”
“Appreciate it. See ya.”
Instead of lifting weights at Summit Studio like I usually do to sort out my personal shit, I decide to do something I haven’t done in a long time. Go swimming.
Even though it’s been hotter than normal this summer, the lake can still be a little too cold for my taste.
Which leaves the local pool and the one at the high school. The last thing I want is to be surrounded by screaming kiddos, so I opt for the only other choice.
After a quick stop at my apartment to grab my suit and a towel, I’m in my Jeep with the windows down, driving across town toward Lakeside High. The wind whips through my hair as I crank up the radio, drowning out my thoughts with some old-school Paramore.
When I pull into the high school parking lot, I’m relieved to see it’s empty. No other cars in sight. The teacher’s lot is on the other side of the building, so I shouldn’t have to worry about running into anyone. Perfect.
The school is eerily quiet as I make my way through the familiar hallways.
It’s been years since I walked these corridors as a student, but nothing much has changed.
Same ugly green lockers. Same trophy cases filled with dusty reminders of the past. Same smell of pine floor cleaner and teenage angst.
I push through the door to the girls’ locker room, my footsteps echoing against the tiled floor. Taking a quick look around, I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m completely alone. Exactly what I need.
“Thank god,” I sigh, dropping my bag on one of the benches.
I change quickly into my black one-piece, the fabric snug against my skin. I pull my hair into a tight bun on top of my head, securing it with an elastic band and snatch up my towel.
The smell of chlorine-treated water hit’s my nose just as I hear the sound of splashing coming from the pool. With school being out, it should be deserted, so the fact that someone else is here knocks me off guard.
When I look around checking to see who’s dared invade my me time, my eyes catch on a fine specimen of a man gliding through the Olympic-sized pool, tanned back rippling, arm muscles undulating as he cuts through the water.
Keeping a careful eye on the water god, I stand there and watch with bated breath. Finally, he comes up for air and moves over to the side of the pool. Wrapping his large hands around the metal ladder, he hoists himself out of the water.
Swim trunks cling to one of the finest asses I’ve ever seen. With his back to me, his thigh muscles ripple as he makes his way over to a bench and grabs his towel. Tossing it over his head, he starts drying his hair as he turns my way.
The sight of a marble-sculpted chest with a tribal sun tattoo on its left pec smacks me full in the face right before my eyes catch on a six-pack of abs—I tilt my head.
Or is it eight?—encased between a narrow waist. A soft line of hair travels between the blatant V, along the smooth, taut skin below his belly button before disappearing into his dark blue swim trunks.
No woman in the history of the universe could ask for a better form of free hot guy porn.
At least I think he’s hot; I haven’t seen his face.
How many inches is the guy hiding under there?
If that sinful body doesn’t come with a face to match, my world will surely come to an abrupt, disappointed end.
Still, nothing could ever prepare me for what comes next.
The towel slides away, revealing the one face I absolutely did not expect to see.
“Holy shit,” I gasp before I can stop myself, my heart practically exploding in my chest.
Rowan. Of course, it’s Rowan. Because the universe clearly hates me.
The sound of my voice has his head snapping up. Not wanting him to see it’s me, I dive under the water, kicking hard, propelling myself as far away as possible. The water burns my eyes as I force them open, desperate to navigate to the opposite end of the pool.
My lungs scream for air, but I refuse to surface until I’ve put maximum distance between us. When I finally emerge, gasping, I frantically scan the pool deck.
He’s gone.
“What the fuck?” I sputter, treading water as I catch my breath.
Did I imagine him? No, that was definitely Rowan, in all his dripping wet glory. My body responds to the memory instantly, a warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with swimming the length of the pool.
Shaking it off, I dive back under, letting the water envelop me in its weighted embrace. The sudden silence is a blessed relief from the noise in my head.
My arms cut through the water, legs kicking in a steady rhythm. With each lap, I feel the tension in my muscles start to ease. This is exactly what I needed—the mindless repetition, the physical exertion—solitude.
By my tenth lap, I’m no longer thinking about Rowan’s lips on mine or the way his hands felt cupping my face. I’m not obsessing over what his movie is about or his stupid fake girlfriend proposal.
I’m just... existing.
I flip over at the wall, pushing off hard for another lap. The burn in my muscles feels good, grounding me in the physical world rather than the emotional tornado that is Rowan Cole.
After a few more laps, I pop back up on the other end, water streaming down my face, and freeze. A pair of bare feet standing at the edge of the pool slowly comes into focus.
My gaze moves up and over a tight pair of jeans clinging to powerful thighs, traveling further to a tight blue T-shirt stretching across a ridiculous pack of abs, and finally landing on Rowan’s face. He’s staring down at me with a knowing smirk that makes my stomach flip.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he chuckles, voice low and teasing. “I saw you. Trying to hide from me, Sunshine?”
I wipe water from my eyes, determined not to let him see how much his presence affects me. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He chuckles, squatting down so we’re almost eye to eye. “You always did love swimming.”
“Are you following me?” I blurt, still treading water.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he responds, voice rough. “I’ve been here for over an hour.”
“I had no idea you’d be here.”
His eyes travel over me, lingering on the water droplets sliding down my collarbone and into my cleavage. “Sure you didn’t.”
The heat of his gaze has me wanting to escape in any way I can, so I duck back under and kick up at the surface, hoping the splash is big enough to give him a face full of water.
I do one more lap, but when I pop back up again, he’s still squatting near the edge of the pool, one eyebrow quirked. “You missed.”
My glare has him pushing to his feet with a sigh. “I can leave…” he frowns, gesturing over his shoulder.
Well, shit. Now I kinda feel bad.
“No,” I say a little too quickly. “I mean... it’s a public pool. Sort of. You have just as much right to be here as I do. I take it Logan gave you a key too?”
“Yup.”
An awkward silence hangs in the air before Rowan speaks up. “About last night—” he starts.
“Nope,” I cut him off as I move toward the ladder and haul myself out of the pool.
“Look. I know you said you needed time, but can we at least talk about what it would look like? We wouldn’t have to be seen together all the time. Just enough for the paps to get a few good pictures in here and there.”
His eyes burn a path over my skin as I pad over to the bench to grab my towel. I thought about what he said after he left last night. Would it be so bad to pretend to be his girlfriend? There was a time I wanted that for real, more than anything.
But now? I’m not so sure.
“Come on. Let me take you to get something to eat so we can talk about it. Please?”
When I release my hair from the elastic band and it falls around my shoulders, Rowan’s eyes flare. I eye him silently as I use the towel to squeeze out the excess water from the dark strands, watching as his gaze travels down my body and up again.
I pop an eyebrow when his eyes lock with mine after I wrap the towel around me, hiding most of my body from his heated stare.
“Fine. But you’re buying.”
His grin tugs at a place that hasn’t been touched in months. “You got it, Sunshine.”
“Stop calling me that.”