9. CHAPTER NINE #2
I know. That is the problem. Not that Rowan didn’t say it back. I didn’t expect him to. I didn’t even know I was going to say it until the words were already sitting between us, so expecting him to have an immediate response would be insane.
The problem is that Cole saying it makes me hear the entire conversation differently.
I like you.
I didn’t know.
That was what Rowan said.
Not I like you too.
Not I’ve been thinking about you.
Not even one of his stupid yeahs that I could reinterpret into something useful if I tried hard enough.
He didn’t know. And that should be fine. Normally, I would be fine.
That is what I do with crushes.
I notice somebody. I decide he’s hot. For a few days or a few weeks, my brain turns him into entertainment.
I look forward to seeing him. I tell Mara something dramatic.
I imagine kissing him despite having almost no information about what kissing him would actually be like.
Then eventually he does something completely ordinary, like eat yogurt too aggressively or say something stupid, and the whole thing collapses under its own weight.
There is no mourning period. No analysis.
I move on. I have always liked that about myself.
Crushes are supposed to be fun. They are not supposed to follow you into the parking lot.
They are definitely not supposed to make you replay the expression on a man’s face while you scrape ice off your windshield. But that is exactly what happens.
By the time I leave the rink, I have gone through the conversation enough times that the words have started losing their original order.
Maybe I said it too casually.
Maybe that made it sound like a joke.
Except I corrected myself, so no, he definitely knows.
Maybe I didn’t know was actually a rejection said politely.
No.
I stop halfway across the parking lot.
That isn’t fair.
Rowan does not speak in code.
If he wanted to reject me, I think he would find a way to do it plainly, even if the sentence came out awkward. He wouldn’t make me translate him. So he meant exactly what he said. He didn’t know.
I unlock my car and throw my bag into the passenger seat harder than necessary.
I’m disappointed in myself.
I get in and shut the door. I start the engine and turn the heat all the way up, even though it only blows cold air for the first minute.
My phone is in my hand before I decide to pick it up. No message. I lock the screen again. This is stupid. I am being stupid. I put the phone in the cup holder. Then I pick it back up thirty seconds later because apparently dignity has left the vehicle. Still nothing.
I sigh, tossing it onto the passenger seat.
The heat finally starts warming up. I pull out of the lot. I make it three lights before another thought arrives. What if I actually want him to like me?
Liking Rowan had been an accident approximately twenty minutes ago. A sentence that slipped out because I was happy and he made me laugh and he had walked all the way across the rink just because something good happened to me.
Now there is another question attached to it.
Do I want something from him?
I grip the steering wheel tighter.
No.
Maybe.
Fuck.
This is why I don’t do this. Except I do. All the time. That is what’s freaking me out. I am excellent at crushes. I know exactly how they feel. This is not how they feel.
Usually, the person is the least important part. The crush is mostly mine. I can carry it around by myself and have fun with it until I get bored.
But Rowan is already in this one.
He was in it before I knew there was one.
He knows what I order when we get food. He knows when I’m pretending not to be nervous.
He knows how I get when I’m excited about something and lets me talk until I run out of air.
He calls instead of texting sometimes. He notices when I leave things at Hawthorne.
I know the exact sound of his laugh when I catch him off guard.
There is too much actual person in this crush. That is deeply inconvenient.
At a red light, I glance at my phone lying faceup on the passenger seat.
Nothing.
I immediately get annoyed with myself again.
He is probably at Hawthorne now. He has a life. College. Hockey. Friends.
Also, what exactly am I expecting?
“Rowan: Been thinking. Turns out I’m madly in love with you. Thanks for letting me know.”
I laugh once in the car. He would never!
Then the laugh dies. Because that isn’t what I want either.
I don’t want him to suddenly turn into somebody else because I said three words.
I like Rowan because he is Rowan. Which feels suspiciously close to another thought I am not prepared to have. So I stop there. Absolutely not.
When I finally get home, I have accomplished nothing except making myself significantly more aware of a situation that did not exist this morning. When I close the door behind me, my phone lights up. My heart reacts so fast that I hate it before I even look.
Rowan: You left your water bottle.
I stare at the message. Okay. Just my water bottle.
Me: Keep it. I can never return to the rink again.
Three dots appear.
Rowan: Seems dramatic.
I stare at the screen, smiling despite myself.
Me: I confessed feelings at my place of employment.
Rowan: You said you like me.
Me: DO NOT REPEAT IT, ROWAN.
His reply comes almost immediately.
Rowan: Okay.
I close my eyes. “Motherfucker.”
Then another message comes through.
Rowan: Sure.