IF UR READING THIS UR GORGEOUS
TW: Mentions of drug addiction.
***
The walk to Rowan's car was silent. The cool breeze soothed me, and I felt it easier to think clearly in the open air.
I wondered what he was thinking. His gaze was fixed in the distance, and his eyes were dazed as if he was deep in thought. I noticed his thumb picking at his other nails and frowned to myself. I'd never seen Rowan display any hints of unease or nervousness. He was an expert at concealing his thoughts, something I'd witnessed just a few hours earlier.
It's probably just a bad habit.
A few more moments passed in silence before I felt a warm hand on my shoulder and glanced back up at him.
"It's just up here," He said, nodding to the sidewalk on my right as we'd reached an intersection. His expression was back to being unreadable, so my mind went back to being clouded as I looked at him.
How the fuck is his face so symmetrical?
I nodded and turned down the street, noticing the parking garage up ahead. He still hadn't taken away his hand, and while I started over-analyzing the simple touch and what it could mean, it also relaxed me like a calming drug.
After a moment Rowan seemed to notice and gently removed it, muttering a quiet sorry.
I shrugged my shoulders indicating it wasn't a big deal, but I felt as if there was a vacancy without it. As if a blanket had been ripped away from me while I was trying to sleep. It was strange, how a single touch could bring me so much comfort.
We finally made it to the parking garage where I spotted his car, neatly stationed in the first non-handicapped row as if he had reserved parking.
Once we were in the car I leaned against the door, fixing my gaze to the windshield and pushing back memories of the last time I'd been there. Rowan started the engine and backed out, before slowly exiting the garage.
While the silence outside hadn't made me uncomfortable, it felt different when it was contained. As if the air in the car would suffocate us unless we distracted ourselves with conversation.
Rowan slowed to a stop at the intersection, before reaching behind my chair and grabbing something.
"Here," he held out an unopened bottle of water and a napkin. I took them, confused. "For your lip. It's still bleeding."
"Oh, thanks." I looked down at the napkin.
"Don't worry it's clean. They gave me too many at McDonalds the other day."
I felt myself smile at the thought of Rowan at McDonalds as I poured water onto the napkin.
"How do you eat so much fast food and..." And look like that? I almost said, stopping myself just in time.
"And?" He responded, and I heard a hint of amusement in his tone.
"And play so well?" I recovered, feeling my face heat up at my almost slip-up. "I thought D1 college athletes had some strict diet plans and shit."
"We do." He said, and the ease of the conversation took me off guard. Earlier had been much more tense. "I don't eat a lot of fast food." He added with fake offense. "Maybe once a week, and only after working out."
"Ah, okay." I said, thinking of how irregular my eating and exercise patterns were. I couldn't remember the last time I'd worked out.
Maybe I should start... I thought, dabbing my lip with the napkin.
YOU ARE READING
Dusk (BoyxBoy)
RomanceHe pops up in my mind more frequently than I'll admit. He's popular. He's three years older than me, a basketball star and a local hero. He's always the talk of the town. But he's changed, and there's something about Rowan that's different. He's g...
