Chapter 30
thirty
For most of the first part of the game, I can feel Rowan’s eyes on me. His burning gaze is like a fiery inferno licking at my skin.
When Carter leaves to go to the restroom during intermission, Sasha snickers, “Oh. My. God! Rowan has been totally hate-fucking you with his eyes all night!”
“Nope,” Noia grins. “Trust me. That’s pure lust. If you ask me, he looks like he’s about two seconds from going full on caveman and stomping over here.”
For most of the game, Carter has been exceptionally flirty. Nudging me with his hip and shoulder, brushing his fingers against mine as he leans in close to see the answer sheet. And it seems those subtle moves haven’t escaped Rowan’s notice.
“I mean, look at his face,” Noia whispers, gesturing subtly with her chin. “He looks like he wants to murder someone.”
“Probably Carter,” Sasha snickers.
Even as heat flushes my cheeks, I roll my eyes, pretending I could give two shits. “You two are reading way too much into this.”
“Alright, folks!” Drew’s voice booms through the speakers again. “We’re about to start the second half of the game, but first—” He pauses dramatically. “—we’ve got a special twist for you all!”
The crowd murmurs excitedly as he continues.
“For the remaining rounds, each team must trade one player with their closest competing team! This will test your ability to work with new teammates and shake things up!”
My stomach drops. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter.
Seconds later, Carter returns. “What’d I miss?”
Before any of us can respond, Rowan stands from his seat, eyes locked on Carter.
“Uh, oh,” Noia and Sasha whisper-snicker together.
When he sees the look on Rowan’s face, Carter visibly gulps. “Um…”
“You,” Rowan growls, pointing a finger. “Switch with me.”
Carter blinks, looking from Rowan to me and back again. “I...”
“Now,” Rowan adds, his voice dropping an octave.
I know I should say something, stick up for Carter—the poor kid—but I just can’t bring myself to do it. Even though I’m still pissed at Rowan, the more I see him, and the more that I’m around him? The more I’m undeniably drawn to him.
Hands raised in surrender, Carter scoots back in his chair. “No problem, man.” He shoots me an apologetic look. “Sorry, Liz.”
“Not your fault,” I mutter as Rowan slides into Carter’s vacated seat, pressing his thigh against mine under the table.
The heat from his body sends electricity zipping through my veins. I shift slightly, trying to put a sliver of space between us, but with the table so crowded, there’s nowhere else to go.
My pussy throbs, torn between itching to throw myself at him and running away.
But I ain’t no coward.
“You realize this is technically our first outing where we’re supposed to be seen together, right, Sunshine?” he murmurs in my ear.
His lips barely brush along the edge, making me shiver in response.
“Exactly. First outing. Which means no PDA.” I start playing with the trivia pencil, dropping it on the table and picking it back up over and over until Sasha snatches it out of my hand.
I toss Sasha a dirty look as Rowan leans away with a grin.
Infuriated, I turn to look up at his stupid handsome face. “Or have you forgotten that this is supposed to be a test run? And stop calling me Sunshine!” I hiss with a frown.
“Have it your way, Izzy.”
His hand squeezes my thigh under the table before he brings it back up to palm his beer.
If I’m going to make it through the rest of the night with my former best friend, I’m going to need a lot more to drink.
“Screw it,” I mumble, signaling the server. “Another round for the table. Tequila shots.”
Sasha’s eyes widen. “Oh, we’re doing this?”
“Hell yes, we’re doing this,” I declare, swallowing the lump in my throat as Rowan nudges his thigh against mine. “If I’m going to be stuck with Hollywood here, I’m gonna need reinforcements.”
Rowan’s chuckle comes from somewhere deep inside his chest.
Jerkface.
Noia claps her hands. “Now we’re talking!”
When the server returns with a tray of shots, I quickly snatch one up and toss it back. Liquor burns its way down my throat. It feels good—cleansing, even.
Slamming the shotglass down on the table, I grab another, ignoring the raised eyebrow Rowan shoots my way as Drew’s voice rumbles throughout the room. “Next round, people! 2000s Movie Franchises!”
As the questions fly, I find myself leaning into Rowan, shoulders pressed together as we whisper answers. The tequila has softened my hard-earned edges, making everything in my periphery a little blurry. When his arm brushes mine as he reaches for his beer, I don’t even flinch.
My pussy throbs instead.
“Pirates of the Caribbean!” I blurt out before Sasha can write down our answer.
“Shhh,” Rowan chuckles, his breath hot against my ear. “You consorting with the enemy, Iz?”
When I turn my head to snark at him, our faces end up less than an inch apart. “Please. Like they don’t already know it’s Johnny Depp.”
His eyes drop to my lips for a split second before meeting mine again. Instantly, the electricity that’s been crackling between us all night ratchets up a gazillion notches.
“Alright, you two. Time to focus,” Noia teases, killing the moment. “We’ve got a game to win.”
I down another shot, welcoming the fuzzy warmth spreading through my limbs. Despite the alcohol clouding my brain, I still manage to answer most of the questions correctly.
“Last question of the night,” Drew announces. “For all the marbles: In what year was the first Harry Potter movie released?”
“2001!” I whisper-shout, startling everyone at our table.
“Jesus, Liz,” Sasha laughs, writing down the answer.
“Sorry,” I giggle, leaning against Rowan. “I’m just excited.”
He wraps an arm around my waist to steady me, and I’m too buzzed to care. His body feels warm and solid against mine, a familiar comfort I didn’t realize I’d been missing.
When I look up to see my brother giving me a quizzical look with a small smile twitching his lips, I stick out my tongue.
He just shakes his head and mouths, “Weirdo.”
Drew collects the answer sheets, tallying the scores while the bar buzzes with anticipation. I finish my beer, my head swimming pleasantly.
“And the winners are...” Drew pauses for dramatic effect. “Team Trophy Wives!”
Our table erupts in cheers. I jump up, throwing my arms in the air.
I’m practically bouncing with excitement. Then, before I can process what’s happening, Rowan wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me clean off the ground, spinning me in a circle as we both laugh.
“We won! We freaking won!” I shout, wrapping my arms around his neck.
His deep laughter rumbles against my chest. And in that moment, it’s like we’re kids again, celebrating a victory at family game night. Time slips away as he spins me once more.
Then reality crashes in.
Suddenly hyperaware of his hands wrapped around my waist, I freeze in his arms. The press of his body against mine, and the way people are watching us? This isn’t something I’m ready for.
“Put me down.”
Instantly, his arms loosen and he sets me on my feet, schooling his expression as he takes a step back, clearing his throat.
“You’re drunk,” he says, voice gruff. “I’m taking you home.”
The room tilts slightly as we face off.
“Let him,” Sasha cuts in with a knowing smirk, just as I open my mouth to protest. “Makes sense since with you being neighbors and all.”
I narrow my eyes at her, but she just winks and walks over to Noia, who’s busy collecting our gift card prize from Drew.
“Fine,” I mumble, swaying on my feet.
Rowan’s hand settles at the small of my back, steadying me. We take a moment to say goodbye to everyone before making our way through the crowd. Every place his skin touches mine burns like a brand, even through the fabric of my shirt.
“Congratulations on your win,” he says as we step outside into the cool night air. “Even if you had to resort to stealing me from my team to pull it off.”
“Please,” I scoff. “You’re the one who stomped over and basically threatened Carter to switch with you.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replies with mock innocence, a slight quirk at the corner of his mouth.
I stumble on the curb, and Rowan’s arm immediately wraps around my waist, tucking me against his side.
“Easy there, tiger,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my temple.
“I’m not that drunk,” I protest, even as I lean into him for support.
“Sure,” he chuckles, guiding me toward his car. “Walking in a straight line is so overrated these days.”
I want to snark back, but my brain is way too fuzzy to come up with anything close to one of my usual witty comebacks.
Rowan helps me into the passenger seat of his car. I’m floating on a cloud of tequila and victory.
“Seatbelt,” he murmurs, leaning across me to fasten it.
His chest brushes against mine as he pulls the strap across my body.
I inhale sharply—his warm breath smells of beer and mint, a powerful combo that makes my head spin even more.
His fingers brush against that place between my hip and thigh as he clicks the buckle into place, and I have to bite my lip to keep from releasing a moan.
“All set?” he asks, his face still hovering close to mine.
Not trusting my voice, I nod. Hesitating only a moment, he pulls back and closes the door, hurrying around to the driver’s side.
The drive home passes in a blur of streetlights and a weird comfortable silence. I rest my head against the cool glass, watching the familiar scenery slip by. As soon as the engine shuts off, I hurry to fumble with my seatbelt.
“Hey. Relax,” Rowan murmurs, unbuckling it for me before climbing out to open my door.
“I can walk,” I insist as he offers me his arm, but the moment I stand, the world tilts sideways.
“Sure you can,” he chuckles. “Come on, lightweight.”
My protest dies on my lips as he slips an arm around my waist, guiding me toward the door.
Once we’re inside, I eye the stairs with suspicion. “Those weren’t that steep before,” I mutter, making Rowan laugh.
“One step at a time,” he says, tightening his grip as we begin our ascent.
Halfway up, my foot catches on a step, and I stumble forward. In one smooth move, Rowan swings me up bridal-style into his arms.
“Maybe I am a little drunk,” I admit begrudgingly into the side of his neck.
His body stiffens for a second before relaxing again. “You think?” His voice is a gruff but gentle tease.
When we finally reach my door, Rowan growls, “Where are your keys?
“They’re... somewhere,” I mumble with a frown.
Rowan sighs, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Which pocket?”
“Front?”
He hesitates for a moment before setting me on my feet, leaning me up against the wall. “May I?”
I nod, and his hand slides carefully into my right front pocket. The pressure and heat of his fingers make my breath catch. When he doesn’t find the keys in that pocket, he tries the other, knuckles brushing against my hip bone.
My eyes nearly roll back in my head.
Fucking hell. Get a grip, babes.
“Got ‘em,” he says, voice husky as he pulls them out, fingers grazing the skin at my waist where my T-shirt has ridden up even more.
The contact sends another jolt through me, and I have to force myself not to react.
He unlocks my door, pushes it open, and resting a gentle hand at the small of my back, guides me inside.
My apartment is dark except for the soft blue glow from Slash’s terrarium. The door closes behind us and Rowan guides me over to the couch.
“Sit,” he commands softly. “I’ll get you some water.”
I sink into the cushions, head spinning pleasantly as I kick my feet up on the coffee table. Slash bobs his head, tongue flicking curiously at the newcomer.
“Hey, buddy,” I mumble, waving listlessly in his general direction. “Look who’s here.”
Rowan returns with a glass of water, pressing it into my hands. “Drink this. All of it.”
“Bossy,” I mutter, gulping down the cool liquid.
He crouches in front of me, looking at me with a pair of damn hazel eyes that have haunted my dreams for as long as I can remember. “Let’s get you into bed, Sunshine.”
“I told you not to call me that,” I protest weakly as he takes the empty glass from my hands and sets it down on the coffee table.
“Sorry. Force of habit,” he says with a small smile. “Come on.”
Before I can argue, his arms slide under my legs and around my back, lifting me effortlessly off the couch, and I find myself cradled against his chest again.
“I said can walk,” I protest weakly, even as my head falls listlessly against his shoulder.
“I’m aware,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against my ear as he carries me over to my bed.
The room spins slightly as he lowers me onto my mattress. I sink into the soft comfort, limbs suddenly feeling like they’re made of lead. Rowan kneels before me, gently lifting one foot and then the other to remove my shoes.
“You don’t have to take care of me,” I mumble, watching him through half-lidded eyes.
“I know,” he says softly, setting my Chucks aside. “I want to.”
There’s something in his voice—a tenderness that cuts through my tequila-soaked brain—making my heart clench painfully in my chest. He pulls the comforter over me, carefully tucking it around my shoulders.
Brushing my hair away from my face, his fingers linger against my temple. This is the Rowan I remember. Not the world famous actor—just Ro. My Ro.
“I loved you too, you know,” I mumble, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “So much.”