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She wouldn’t cast them in a story she already knew the ending to.
Rowan dropped her hands away from his shoulders and stepped back. This needed to stop here, now. “Whatever you think is going on here, you’re wrong.”
“Rowan.” The way he said her name was both warning and supplication.
The song ended, and the band announced intermission. Everyone began to clear the floor.
She wiped her hands on her jeans and adjusted the hem of her sweater. “Probably best if you don’t touch me again.”
Harrison’s expression darkened, a storm front passing over skin. He pushed his hands into his pockets and tilted toward her. With his mouth close enough his lips grazed her ear with every word, he said, “I won’t touch you again. Until you ask.”
Then he was gone, and she was alone under the glare of the lights.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Harry
Harry watched Rowan leave with Frankie shortly after he’d left her on the dance floor. He wasn’t proud of it, walking away like he did. But he knew how his anger worked. It was a controlled demolition. First, the slow squeeze of the trigger, then a systemic breakdown that escalated into eventual ruin.
It was rare for him to lose his temper—rare enough that when his composure began to crumble, it felt like the symptoms of an illness. Metallic odor in his nose, a churn of acid in his gut. A pulse that wouldn’t quite settle on a rhythm. When Rowan made the shitty quip about billing her insurance, he’d felt a familiar detonation deep within him. Practicing medicine was already a fucking sore spot for him, and her glib mockery of it set his interior simmer to a healthy boil.
Combined with the insistently hostile hard-on he’d sustained most of the day, he’d become as growly as a starving wolf. He didn’t want her to see him snap. So, he’d removed himself.
Something existed between them made of highly flammable material, and Harry wasn’t sure he’d survive the blaze if it ever caught fire. Rowan could be distant as the moon, depriving him of oxygen and untethering him from gravity. But she was also funny and earnest and brilliant—and before she’d put up her guard tonight, he’d heard the hungry catch in her voice whenthey talked about love. Something dormant and raw and aching to be explored.
For a moment, Harry clung to that.
Truth was, he hated himself a little bit less when she was around, even when she was being a pain in the ass. She quieted the commotion in his brain. Through all his years of school, he’d encountered every personality type imaginable, and it was an unavoidable truth that certain people just—clicked. On the night they’d met, he’d felt thatclickwith her as certain as a deadbolt sliding home.
It wasn’t that she made him forget his pain. It was that she helped him see lifebeyondit.
Arden found him at the bonfire. She looped her arm through his. “We’ve been here for hours, surrounded by a bonanza of delicious food, and all I’ve had is a lemonade. What sounds good to you?”
“Burger place. Over there.” Harry pointed to a plain-looking food truck with a line a dozen people deep.
“Really? You have all these incredible options, and you chooseburgers?”
“Arden, these aren’t average burgers. Nate brought some home for everyone last week. These are the ultimate burgers. Burgers so big you have to cut them in pieces before you can eat them.”
Arden arched a brow. “Did you know it’s a misdemeanor in several states to cut up a burger before you eat it?”
Harry laughed.
“I’m imagining you daintily cutting a burger in half, and I’m deeply embarrassed for you.”
“Come on, Arden. You have to acknowledge that some restaurants have gotten completely out of hand with the size of their sandwiches,” he said.
“Out of hand? Cute,” she snorted. “Look, big brother. I’venever shamed myself by cutting a burger before eating it. You smash it down, you get your mouth around it, and you chew it into submission, or you wuss out and order a meal where utensils are sanctioned. A salad, or a bowl of soup.”
“I look forward to reading your anti-utensil manifesto someday.”
Her side-eye was potent. “If you tell me you’ve used a knife and fork on pizza, I will never be able to look you in the face again.”
“Fine, fine. You know what? I’m going to order the biggest, most obscenely oversized burger on the menu. Every condiment, every topping. If I have to unhinge my jaw like a snake, I’ll do it. Not only will I not use utensils, I won’t even use a napkin.”
“’Atta boy.” She squeezed his arm as they walked to the burger truck. “I’m glad your appetite is coming back.”
Her enthusiasm made Harry feel a little twinge of guilt. His appetite didn’t have much to do with a healthier outlook on life. It was that he flat-out needed the fuel. “Duncan has been pushing me from sunrise to sundown this whole past week. My stamina is still garbage.”
