Page 68 of On His Team

“Apparently birthdays are exempt from weekdays.”

He nods once like he’s considering this terrible information.

I look at him. “Do you want to come?”

Rowan’s eyes move to mine. For a second, he doesn’t answer. Then he says, “Yeah.”

That’s it.

Just yeah.

Something stupid and warm opens in my chest anyway.

I smile. “Okay.”

We reach the split in the walkway where he has to head toward Hawthorne, and I have to go the other direction.

“I’m changing first,” I tell him. “I’ll pick you up.”

He nods. “See you.”

“Yeah.” I keep walking. I make it to the library before I realize I’m still smiling.

Drew lives in a rental house about ten minutes from campus, and by the time Rowan and I get there, every downstairs light is on. There are cars parked along both sides of the street. Somebody has tied a metallic 21 balloon to the mailbox, and it keeps whipping sideways in the wind.

Rowan looks at it as we get out. “Classy.”

“You still have time to run.”

He gives me a funny glance. “You drove.”

I shrug, satisfied with that answer. “Then you’re trapped.”

He closes the passenger door and follows me across the street.

The guy on the porch recognizes Rowan before he recognizes me. “Laurens?”

Rowan lifts a hand. “Hey, man. What’s up?”

The guy looks genuinely surprised to see him, which makes me glance over.

“Do you ever leave Hawthorne? You poor thing.” I stick out my bottom lip.

He glances at my lip. “I go places.”

I drop the act. “Name one.”

“Classes.”

I laugh. “You’re so dumb.”

He holds the door for me. “I’m actually really smart.”

“Right,” I say, smirking.

We go inside.

The party isn’t huge. Maybe thirty people spread through the living room and kitchen, with beer pong set up in what should probably be a dining room.