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“Bryce and Matt aren’t here,” I promise her. “They both have another class in about twenty minutes and rarely make it back before then.”
She nods a hesitant okay, and I take her hand to help her to her feet, gathering her bag from the bottom of the stairs to carry it up for her. I unlock the apartment door and show her in, laying her bag on a hook by the entrance. Rowan hesitates at the entrance, as if she’s listening for any sign of my roommates. Finally, when she’s content there’s nobody else here, she comes slowly into the living room and sits down on the couch, crossing her legs and arms, a protective stance if I’ve ever seen one.
“I’ll offer you water or coffee first, as a gentleman should do,” I say to her from the kitchen. “But I will also offer up something strong to ease your nerves. I highly suggest the latter.”
Rowan laughs at this, and my entire body reacts to the beautiful sound that escapes from between her lips. I’m already getting hard for her, so I force myself to focus on anything else but that.
“How about whiskey and coke?” I ask, and she nods her head. I make her drink, then one for myself, and walk back out into the living room to hand it to her. Rowan takes it with a smile, her eyes scanning the living room. I’m suddenly hyper aware of what a damn mess it is in here; a true bachelor pad. Dirty socks are strewn around the carpeted floor, and a used towel is draped over the recliner in the corner. An empty glass of vodka sits on the windowsill, and some of Bryce’s vape parts are lying around on the coffee table. I roll my eyes and sit down next to Rowan.
“You seem tense,” I tell her, taking a drink of my own whiskey. Rowan shrugs and also takes a drink, her eyes on everything but me.
“I felt like I needed to see you,” she says. “See you and also maybe talk about something.”
A tightness in my gut is suddenly painful as wariness grips me.
“Is it bad?” I ask, and when Rowan hesitates, I feel sick. She sets her drink down on the coffee table, then turns her body in my direction.
“The other day, after I slept with you, I went on a date and—” She’s cut off as the front door opens abruptly and Matt comes in, music blaring from his headphones. He’s got an unlit cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth, and as he turns around to shrug his jacket off, he spots Rowan and me sitting together on the couch and freezes.
“Shit,” I mutter, glancing at Rowan, whose mouth closes with a sharp snap. Matt stares at the front door for a moment too long, his gaze flickering between Rowan and me. I can’t read his expression, and I’m not sure I care to.
“I should go,” Rowan says, getting to her feet. I follow suit, wanting to reach out and stop her, but I know if I do, she might fight me.
“Well, well, well,” Matt says softly, removing his headphones and tossing them onto his bag on the floor. “What do we have here?”
“I was just leaving,” Rowan says, heading straight for the door. But Matt is in her way, blocking the way out, and she’s forced to stop a few feet from her escape.
“I thought you had class,” I say, glaring at Matt. He shrugs at me, but he’s still looking at Rowan with an expression I don’t like–not even a little bit.
“Got released early,” he says. I hardly believe this, but it’s useless to push it.
“Rowan, you don’t have to leave,” I tell her, hoping it’s not too late to settle her down. “We can talk in my room.”
“No, it’s fine, really. I have homework and stuff to do anyway.”
Matt stays where he is, blocking the door, but before I can rip him a new one, Rowan raises one hand, rips the cigarette out of his mouth, and crumples it in her hand.
“This makes no damn sense,” she snaps. “Either light the damn thing or stop carrying them around.”
“It’s a metaphor,” Matt says, and for the first time in a long time, he actually looks halfway offended.
“A metaphor for what?” Rowan snarls.
“For his mom,” I say before Matt can answer. He doesn’t explain further though, and Rowan shakes her head in disgust and barrels past him, fury flashing on her face. I’m impressed. She’s got a bigger pair of balls than Bryce.
Matt’s eyes follow Rowan’s ass on the way out the door, and I fucking hate the look on his face. He’s hungry for her, like an animal, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to knock him cold on the spot.
“What was that all about?” I ask as the door closes behind Rowan. Matt is smirking, his favorite pastime, and my fists clench. I want to punch that smirk off his cocky face.
“What do you mean?” he asks innocently, stepping around me. “I didn’t tell her to leave.”
“She was trying to tell me something,” I grumble, following Matt into the kitchen. “And you were supposed to be in class.”
“I skipped,” Matt says with a shrug. “You should try it sometime. It’s a lot of fun.”
“Shut up, asshole.”
“Why was she here anyway?” asks Matt, and his tone is more than just curious. It’s a bit jealous … possessive.
