Did he also see Rowan come in and talk to me moments prior? Or how Bennett was practically grilling me?!
“That was just friendly chatter,” I tell him, and he grins, finally meeting my eyes.
“Uh-huh. You seem to be very popular already, Eli.” And then, he mutters, “Well, youarevery pretty.”
“Alright, John,” I laugh, packing up my half-eaten sandwich. “If I need dating advice, I know who to turn to. Now let me get back to this article so I can get home and finally ask Rowan some questions.”
“Wait.” John’s eyes widen. “He’s going to your house?”
“Well, my apartment. But yes.” I’m just staring back at him, but John seems to be having a hard time comprehending my words. “What?” I ask.
“Nothing. That’s just… I’m just surprised. He doesn’t normally—you know what. Not my business, son. I’ll let you get back to it.”
“Okay…” I draw, watching as he takes his belongings into his office and cracks the door.
I’m not sure what his deal is today, but it’s clear that Rowan is treating me differently than he does anyone else in this hick town. But there is plenty of reason to believe it’s because I’m not from here, or a judgmental dick (that he knows of).
But then there is also the potential that he treats me differently because when he sees me, he feels as if he’s dying, the same way that I do. That his heart is searching for me even now, the way mine seems to be searching for his.
I guess I won’t know until I see him again. Until I test it. And what better way is there to test it than exposure?
On the way home, I grab two pepperoni pizzas from the local pizza joint and a six-pack of beer from the gas station that I have no intention of taking part in.
I’m not used to hosting, but pizza and beer should be fine, right?
I sent Rowan my address this morning, yet I’m still surprised to see him leaning against my apartment door as I walk up the stairs. It’s 6 o’clock on the dot.
My heart beats rapidly, and every inch of my skin feels as if it’s on fire. Anticipating his touch—or terrified of it.
“Hey,” I greet him, offering him a small smile.
His eyes shoot up from where they were studying the lines of his Vans and meet mine.
“Hey.”
Rowan is dressed casually today—just as he always is. Plain black t-shirt and blue jeans with a jean jacket to fight the fall chill. He looks incredibly handsome with the breeze ruffling his curls, a few black strands falling onto his forehead.
I suddenly remember what he looks like while lying over me—those same black strands dripping wet and stuck to his skin.
Fuck, I need help.
“Come on in," I mutter awkwardly.
Rowan moves out of the way so I can unlock the door, taking the pizzas and beer from my hands so I am able to use my keys.
Once we get inside, he sets everything on the coffee table in the living room, and for a moment, we stand in front of each other awkwardly.
He’s assessing me just as thoroughly as I’m assessing him, and for a second I swear his hands start twitching. But then he shoves them into his front pockets, and I clear my throat.
“So! The interview questions.” I grab my work bag, sitting myself on the couch as I wait for him to follow.
The entire room feels far too small with him in it. He takes up so much space; just his being here is monopolizing the air in the room.
I’m overly conscious of every move I make, of every sound, of my own breathing. The scent of something floral and sweet is suddenly surrounding me again.
As I pull the notebook full of questions out, I set my bag to the side.
Rowan is still standing awkwardly by the coffee table.
