CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ROWAN
I shouldn’t have moved again.
That was the thought that came after I already had.
Because once I stood properly, the room stopped feeling like two separate spaces.
It became one.
And that changed everything.
Mason was still near the window now, but not leaning against it anymore.
Just standing.
Watching me the way he always did when he thought I wasn’t noticing.
Except I was noticing everything tonight.
That was the problem.
“You’re pacing,” I said.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
That earned a quiet exhale from him.
Not frustration.
Just acknowledgement.
“I’m thinking,” he corrected.
“Same thing tonight,” I said.
That made him look at me.
Longer than usual.
Not sharp.
Not defensive.
Just steady.
Like he was deciding whether to say something he didn’t normally allow himself to say.
Then he moved.
Not toward me.
Just across the room.
Slow.
Controlled.
From window to desk.
But in this room, even that felt like distance collapsing.
I didn’t move away.
That was mistake number one.
Mason
She was closer to the desk again.
Same place she kept drifting back to.
Not intentionally.
Just naturally occupying space where there was space.
I passed behind her without thinking too much about it.
That was mistake number two.
The room wasn’t big enough for “without thinking.”
She shifted slightly as I passed.
Not stepping away.
Just adjusting.
And for half a second—
we were too close.
Not touching.
Not even brushing.
Just proximity that didn’t need explanation but still felt like one.
I stopped immediately.
She did too.
That pause hit harder than movement.
Because now we were both aware of exactly how close that had been.
Neither of us said anything for a second too long.
Then I stepped back.
Slow.
Controlled.
Too controlled.
Rowan
I didn’t look at him right away.
That was instinct now.
If I looked too fast, it made it real in a way I didn’t want to deal with.
But I could feel him just behind me.
Still.
Not moving.
“You always do that,” I said quietly.
“Do what.”
“Stop like you’re calculating distance.”
That got a reaction.
Small.
But real.
“I am calculating distance,” he said.
I finally turned slightly.
Not fully.
Just enough to see him.
“Why,” I asked.
He didn’t answer immediately.
That pause again.
Then:
“Because I don’t like mistakes.”
That should’ve been simple.
It wasn’t.
Because it didn’t sound like arrogance.
It sounded like habit.
Mason
She was looking at me again.
Not challenging.
Just trying to understand something I didn’t usually say out loud.
I moved toward the desk again.
Carefully this time.
Not passing behind her.
Not crossing space too fast.
Just occupying it properly.
“You make it sound like everything is a risk,” she said.
“It is.”
“Even this?”
That made me pause.
Because I knew what she meant.
This room.
This moment.
Us.
I didn’t answer immediately.
Then:
“Yes,” I said.
That landed heavier than anything else tonight.
Rowan
The silence after that felt different.
Not tense.
Not awkward.
Just… honest.
I sat on the edge of the desk this time.
Not my bed.
Not his space.
Middle again.
That pattern was starting to bother me.
“You don’t trust anything, do you?” I asked.
“I trust things,” he said.
“What things.”
“Patterns,” he replied.
That made me tilt my head slightly.
“That’s not trust,” I said.
“It is for me.”
Of course it was.
I exhaled slowly.
“You realise that makes everything harder,” I said.
“I know.”
“And you don’t care?”
That made him look at me properly again.
Longer this time.
“No,” he said.
Then, after a beat:
“I care. I just don’t let it change how I operate.”
That was the most honest thing he’d said so far.
And somehow the most unsettling.
Mason
She didn’t look away.
That was becoming the constant now.
Rowan didn’t break eye contact quickly like most people did.
She held it.
Not aggressively.
Just present.
I shifted slightly toward the desk.
Not closing distance.
Not increasing it either.
Just… existing in the same frame as her.
“That must get lonely,” she said again.
I exhaled.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it looks like it.”
I didn’t deny it.
That was new.
Instead:
“It’s not about loneliness,” I said.
“What is it about.”
I paused.
Longer than before.
Because this wasn’t something I usually named.
Then:
“Control.”
That word stayed in the room longer than anything else we’d said tonight.
Rowan
Control.
That explained a lot.
And somehow made even less sense.
I slid off the desk slowly.
Now we were both standing again.
Closer than before without meaning to be.
“I don’t think you actually control as much as you think you do,” I said.
That got a slight shift in his expression.
Not anger.
Recognition.
“Maybe not,” he said.
That was the first crack.
Small.
But real.
And I noticed it immediately.
Because he didn’t correct me.
He didn’t defend it.
He just left it there.
Between us.
Mason
She stepped slightly toward the bed again.
Not retreating.
Just moving.
The room adjusted with her.
I noticed I wasn’t stepping away this time.
That was the problem.
I was staying in place.
Letting proximity exist without correcting it.
Rowan stopped near the edge of her bed.
Then looked back at me.
“Do you ever just… let things happen?” she asked.
I almost answered instinctively.
Didn’t.
Because that wasn’t the right version anymore.
So I said:
“I’m not sure I know how.”
That was honest.
Too honest.
The room didn’t move after that.
But something in it did.
And neither of us pretended it didn’t.