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“Honestly, you guys, I’m okay,” insists Rowan, but the waxy, pale complexion of her cheeks tells us otherwise. Her hands tremble as she stands, but she’s gripping me with one of them and Matt with the other.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Matt asks. “You should stay sitting down for a while.”
Rowan swallows and glances down at Bryce’s arm, where a wristwatch is secured.
“It’s almost two in the morning,” she says, glancing at it. “I need to go home. Jamie is probably worried sick.”
“I’ve already spoken with Jamie,” Matt says. “She knows you’re here, and that you’re safe. Besides, didn’t you ride to the party with Jason?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So,” Bryce cuts in. “How are you going to drive home right now?”
Rowan furrows her brow, gaze switching between each of us. “Are you holding me hostage here?”
“No.”
“Of course not.”
“Why?” I ask. “Do you feel like a hostage?”
Rowan sways where she stands and closes her eyes, looking like she might throw up. The bit of color that was left drains from her face, and Matt and I gently help her lower her body back onto the couch where she’s in no danger of careening face-first into the coffee table.
“You can sleep here tonight,” Matt says. “You need to rest.”
“I should be at home,” Rowan mumbles, but her voice is far away now as exhaustion overtakes her. She flings an arm over her eyes and takes a deep breath. Bryce goes down the hallway for a moment and comes back with an extra blanket and one of his pillows. He hands them over and Matt and I gently lift Rowan’s head to rest it on the pillow, then cover her with the blanket. She’s already asleep, her chest rising and falling gently with each breath she takes. I want to touch her, to feel her beneath my fingers, but it’s not the time. Not now. Not after tonight.
“Well,” Matt says, leaning back into his chair with a small shrug. “This has been an interesting night, wouldn’t you both say?”
