11. CHAPTER ELEVEN #3
I know the hands touching me. I’ve watched them cook, tape sticks, type on his laptop, carry three plates at once because nobody else could be bothered to make two trips.
I know the laugh in my mouth. I know how he sounds when he’s tired and how he looks when he’s listening even if he hasn’t said anything for five minutes.
There is too much person attached to every part of this. I kiss him harder. His hand slides farther up my back. Then my brother’s voice carries through the floor.
“—I told you, Aspen said Michigan gave up two in the third—”
My entire body locks. I am sitting on Rowan’s lap with both hands in his hair.
I feel Rowan’s laugh before I hear it. His chest moves against mine and then he drops his forehead onto my shoulder, trying and failing to keep quiet.
I look at him.
He laughs harder.
“This is not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“My brother is downstairs.”
Rowan lifts his head. His hair is completely ruined now, and I did that. “We know it.”
“Yeah,” I blush.
“It’s just –– you’re sitting on my lap pretending to use the bathroom.”
I cover his mouth. He kisses my palm. That shuts me up for an entirely different reason. I slowly lower my hand.
“Stop doing things like that.”
“Like what?”
“That.”
“What did I do?”
I stare at him.
He’s smiling.
I climb off him before six minutes turns into twelve and everyone starts sending a search party. In the mirror on the closet door, my hair looks like I’ve been electrocuted.
“Oh, fuck,” I mutter.
Rowan leans back on his hands and watches me try to fix it.
“You look fine.”
“I look kissed.”
“You were.”
I just try to fix it.
He laughs again.
I turn toward him. “We’re not telling anybody yet.”
The amusement leaves his face. Not because he’s upset. Because he thinks I’m asking a different question. I realize it immediately.
“Not because of Benson.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“I believe you.”
I run my fingers through my hair, buying myself a second. “I told Mara.”
His eyebrows rise.
“She doesn’t count.”
He nods like somehow that makes complete sense.
“Lucy doesn’t know.”
That surprises him more. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Why?”
That’s the thing I have been thinking about all morning. I could make a joke. It would be easy. Something about Lucy being physically incapable of keeping information from Benson when he takes his shirt off.
Instead I turn around and look at Rowan properly.
“Because I don’t want anybody asking you what this is.”
He goes quiet.
I keep going because I don’t want him to misunderstand me.
“You told me you don’t know. That’s okay.
I don’t really know either. And if Lucy knows, then eventually Benson probably knows, and then the guys know, and suddenly everybody’s looking at us like we’re supposed to be together.
I don’t know. You don’t have an answer.”
Rowan watches me through the mirror.
I sigh. “I don’t want to do that to you.”
Something changes in his face. “You’re not pressuring me.”
“I know.” I inhale. “I just don’t want other people to.”
He nods.
I turn back to the mirror.
For a second, neither of us talks.
Then Rowan says, “Are we still doing this?”
I meet his eyes in the reflection.
My heart gives one hard beat. “Kissing?”
“Yeah.”
I smile. “Obviously.”
His shoulders loosen. I hadn’t realized they were tight.
I fix the front of my sweatshirt. “I’m having fun.”
“Me too.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
I point at him through the mirror. “Do not turn this into an okay situation.”
He smiles. “Wasn’t going to.”
I walk to the door and unlock it.
Before I open it, Rowan says, “G.”
I look back.
He’s still sitting on the edge of the bed.
“What?”
“Come here.”
I glance at the door. Then at him. “I’m already over my bathroom limit.”
“Come here.”
There is something different in his voice this time.
I cross the room.
He catches my hand when I get close, pulls me between his knees, and kisses me once slowly. No laughter. No hands under clothes. Just his mouth against mine for long enough that the rest of the room disappears again. Then he lets me go.
“Okay,” he says.
I stare at him. He smiles. I smack his shoulder. “Get over yourself.”
I open the door and leave.
I use the bathroom because I actually do have to pee, wash my hands, and spend thirty seconds making my hair look less criminal before I head downstairs.
Nobody looks up when I enter the living room. Then Lucy does. Her eyes track me from the bottom of the stairs all the way to the kitchen.
I ignore her, get water, and sit on the floor beside the couch.
Five minutes later, Rowan comes down.
Then Stanley says something about Michigan, Rowan answers him, and his eyes find mine across the room in the middle of the sentence.
I bite my lip. He looks away. There is a secret in this room now. A real one. We’re hiding it because it’s ours. I like that more than I should.
Lucy nudges me with her foot.
I look up.
She mouths, What?
I shake my head. Nothing.
She narrows her eyes.
I grin at her and turn back toward the TV.
Across the room, Rowan is smiling again.
And this time I know exactly why.