Chapter 25 – Rowan #2
Tessa grabs a fry, dips it in ketchup, and shoves it into her mouth with zero grace. It’s ridiculous and somehow still attractive, which is irritating.
I take one from her container.
She immediately narrows her eyes. “That’s theft.”
“You stole two of mine earlier.”
“You were taking too long. They were going cold.”
“They were still mine.”
She tosses a fry at my chest. I catch it before it drops and eat it, watching her the whole time.
“Still got it,” I say.
She groans. “Please stop talking.”
I shift the containers so the open end of my wrap is facing her. She pauses, staring at it.
“Can I—”
“No.”
She reaches anyway, her fingers brushing mine for a second before she tears off a piece. I let her because fighting her over food feels like admitting something bigger.
Waffles lifts his head from the mattress and drags himself between us. He drops his weight against my thigh, and breathes out loudly.
I look down. “Unbelievable.”
Tessa smirks and tears off another piece of chicken. She extends it, and Waffles takes it gently from her hand.
“He loves you now,” she says.
“He shit in the corner,” I remind her.
“Love is complicated.”
“That’s one word for it.”
She ignores me and gives him another bite. He rolls onto his back and kicks his feet, waiting for a belly rub.
“Great,” I mutter. “Now he’s acting like he earned this.”
Tessa reaches into the fry box and pulls out the last one. She holds it up between us, her expression careful.
I take it from her fingers slowly. She notices the pace, and her eyebrows lift.
“Truce?” she asks.
“For now.”
She nods and licks the salt from her thumb. She doesn’t mean anything by it, but my pulse still jumps.
I look away before she catches that, too.
“Wow,” she says quietly. “That’s progress.”
I shrug, pretending it means nothing. “He’s still on thin ice.”
“I’m not talking about the dog.”
My hand stills in the air.
Of course, she’d say that right when I’m pretending I’m fine.
And then she reaches for the brownie.
Breaks it cleanly in half and hands me a piece.
I take it because she offered, and because turning it down would be more honest than I’m ready for. Maybe we’re both pretending this is temporary. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe neither of us wants to look directly at the possibility yet.
We finish eating with our legs stretched out across the bed, the containers shoved aside, Waffles belly-up between us. It’s too comfortable, and I know it, but I don’t move.
Tessa licks brownie crumbs off her thumb.
She notices me staring.
“What?” she demands, eyes narrowing. “Do I have chocolate on my face?”
“No. You’re just feral.”
“Excuse me?”
“That wasn’t eating. That was a food heist. You attacked that brownie.”
She grins and leans against the headboard, robe slipping slightly as she settles. “Please. You act like I haven’t watched you inhale three bags of Doritos and call it dinner.”
“That was once.”
“Twice.”
“There was a power outage.”
“You were in a law library.”
I shake my head. “Still can’t believe you remember that.”
“Still can’t believe you tried to convince me it was ‘nutritional.’”
“I was broke and starving. It was survival.”
Her laugh breaks out before I’m prepared for it—the real, unfiltered one that pulls her whole face into it.
“I forgot you were funny,” she says.
“I forgot you were tolerable.”
She nudges my foot under the blanket, and I nudge back before I can stop myself.
“You always got mean when you were full,” she teases.
“And you always got smug when you made me laugh.”
Her eyes warm. “Did I make you laugh?”
“Once. Accidentally.”
She presses a hand to her chest. “Wow. I’ll cherish that forever.”
“Don’t. It’s already fading.”
She tosses a napkin at my face. I lean away from it with entirely too much effort and watch it flutter to the floor.
“Jeez, you’re still dramatic,” she mutters.
“You’re still a menace,” I shoot back.
“I’m delightful.”
“You’re a hot mess in a bathrobe.”
She smirks, and I feel the shift again. Something in the room settles and stirs at the same time, and I know exactly what it means.
We’re not drifting back into old habits.
We’re already in them.
“Thank you,” she says.
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
She lifts a shoulder. “It sounded like awe.”
I blink at her. “You are so exhausting.”
“And yet,” she says, dragging it out just to irritate me, “you’re still here.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Temporarily.”
“Sure,” she shoots back, popping the last bite of brownie into her mouth. “Just long enough to clean up dog crap, run me a bath, feed me lunch, and watch Legally Blonde without a single sarcastic comment.”
“You’re keeping score?”
“I’m a woman. Of course, I keep score.”
She licks a smear of chocolate from her thumb, and I turn my head away.
It’s a mistake.
And she notices instantly.
“Rowan?”
“What?”
“You’re staring again.”
“You’re trying to kill me.”
She grins. “Me? Never.”
She grabs the remote, settles deeper against the headboard, and turns up the volume. The courtroom scene starts, where Elle Woods dismantles Chutney’s alibi with absolute confidence. Tessa mouths every line under her breath, perfectly timed, perfectly sure of herself.
I don’t tease her.
I just sit there and watch her lips move around the words she knows by heart.
Her mouth curves as the verdict lands and her foot nudges my ankle.
I sit still, pulse tight and steady, wondering why laughing with her feels more dangerous than anything else in the world.