CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
MASON
Night made the room feel smaller.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Not the beds.
Not the furniture.
Just the fact that everything got quieter in a way that didn’t feel natural for a city like New York.
Rowan had turned the main light off.
Only the small lamp near her bed was on now.
Warm. Dim. Controlled.
She was sitting on the edge of her bed with her phone in her hand, not really looking at it.
I could tell.
Because I was doing the same thing without meaning to.
Pretending.
That was the word for it.
I stood by the window longer than necessary.
City lights outside didn’t feel like they belonged to anything stable.
They moved too much.
Like everything here refused to stay still.
“Are you going to stand there all night?” Rowan asked suddenly.
Her voice wasn’t sharp.
Just… present.
I didn’t turn immediately.
Then I did.
“Maybe,” I said.
She looked up at me for a second.
Not long.
Just enough.
Then back to her phone.
That should’ve ended it.
It didn’t.
Rowan
He hadn’t moved from the window in ten minutes.
I’d stopped pretending to scroll five minutes ago.
The room had settled into something worse than silence.
Routine silence.
The kind where you become aware of every small sound you make.
Fabric shifting.
Breathing.
The floor creaking slightly when I adjusted my position.
Mason was still by the window.
Still not doing anything.
Which somehow made it worse.
“You don’t have to act like I’m not here,” I said.
That got him to turn slightly.
Not fully.
Just enough.
“I’m not acting like anything,” he said.
“Yeah,” I replied. “That’s the problem.”
He didn’t respond immediately.
That pause again.
The same one I was starting to recognise.
Then:
“I’m just thinking.”
“About what?”
He looked at me properly this time.
Longer than before.
“Nothing you’d want the answer to,” he said.
That should’ve been dismissive.
It wasn’t.
It was careful.
Mason
She didn’t look away this time.
That was new.
Rowan was usually controlled in a different way—distance, timing, deflection.
But now she was just… holding the space.
Like she wasn’t going to be the first one to break it.
I turned back toward the window.
Because staying there felt easier than staying there with her looking at me.
Jace would’ve called that obvious.
He’d be right.
The room behind me shifted slightly.
Bed creaking.
She stood up.
Not close.
Not approaching.
Just moving.
Bathroom light flicked on briefly.
Then off.
Back to dim lamp lighting.
When she came out again, she paused near her bed.
Not mine.
Not the space between.
Just hers.
“Are we just going to pretend this isn’t weird forever?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
That surprised her slightly.
I heard it in her pause.
Then:
“Then what are we doing?”
I didn’t answer immediately.
Because I didn’t have a version of the answer that made sense.
So I said the only honest thing I had:
“I don’t know.”
That hung in the room longer than anything else tonight.
Rowan
That answer shouldn’t have done anything.
It did.
Because it was the first time he didn’t try to control the conversation.
I sat down again.
This time properly.
Crossing my legs slightly.
Trying to ignore the fact that every movement felt like it was happening in front of someone who noticed everything.
Mason still hadn’t moved from the window.
But I could feel him more than see him.
That was becoming the pattern now.
Not eyes.
Awareness.
“Do you always avoid things you don’t understand?” I asked.
That made him turn fully this time.
Finally.
He leaned back slightly against the wall near the window.
Arms crossed.
“No,” he said.
“What do you do then?”
“I figure them out.”
“And this?” I asked.
He didn’t answer immediately.
That hesitation again.
Longer this time.
Then:
“I’m not sure this is something you figure out fast.”
That landed differently.
Because it wasn’t denial.
It wasn’t deflection.
It was recognition.
And I didn’t like how much that changed the room.
Mason
She was watching me differently now.
Not challenging.
Not teasing.
Just… aware.
Like she was starting to realise I wasn’t either.
I pushed off the wall slightly.
Walked toward the desk.
Not close to her bed.
Not far from it either.
Just inside the same space.
The lamp light hit everything softer than it should’ve.
Rowan shifted slightly.
Not away.
Not toward.
Just adjusting.
“You’re overthinking it again,” she said.
“I’m not.”
“You are,” she repeated.
I looked at her.
“Then stop noticing,” I said.
That got a reaction.
Small.
But real.
Her expression tightened slightly.
Not offended.
Just aware that I’d said something that wasn’t clean.
“I can’t,” she said quietly.
That made me pause.
Because it wasn’t playful anymore.
Not teasing.
Just honest.
And that changed something in the room I couldn’t name yet.
Rowan
The silence after that felt heavier.
Not awkward.
Just full.
I looked down at my hands for a second.
Then back up.
He was still standing there.
Closer now than he had been at the window.
Not close enough to matter physically.
But close enough that I noticed.
“Tomorrow’s going to be worse,” I said.
“Yeah,” he replied.
That was it.
No argument.
No correction.
Just agreement.
And somehow that was the most honest thing all night.
I lay back slightly on the bed.
Not fully.
Just enough to reset the space I was sitting in.
Mason didn’t move.
But he also didn’t leave.
And that was the thing I couldn’t ignore anymore.
Not presence.
Consistency.