Navy Blue Eyes.

Her Little White Lies. | .27

There is something to be said for the imperious air that hangs like a heady perfume around those who command a royal presence. There is something enrapturing in the way the room seems to stiffen and brighten all at once. There is something entrancing in the way that which is regal seems to capture your attention as well as your senses, drawing you in but keeping you at bay.

    The unique thing about Rowan Quinn was that she had all of these austere qualities mixed with an intense softness that forces those in her presence to want to come closer, speak more gently, and reach out to hold her. She, of course, had no idea whatsoever that this phenomenon existed within her and around her. She felt stares as judgmental daggers, hushed voices as insults swapped about her, and the desire to grasp her hand or wrap arms around her as a threat.

    Therefore upon being guided into the bus that belonged to Motionless in White, she shrank into herself self-consciously. She felt the weight of five curious pairs of eyes settle upon her fragile shoulders like bricks and heard Josh's introduction like a bad radio station she could hardly listen to through the static.

    "Guys, Rowan's staying here for the night," he announced, leaving no room for dispute. No one seemed inclined to challenge him anyway, they only began to clear a space for her to sit between them on the couch.

    "Good thing it's movie night," Chris said simply, offering the seat between himself and Ryan Sitkowski.

    Rowan jumped back from the offering like she'd been slapped, unconsciously jerking closer to Josh as she now half-hid behind his arm and quivered behind him. The guys tried not to react to her reaction, attempting to remain calm and act as though they hadn't noticed, but there was still a palpable change in the air around them like a bolt of lightning had struck the ground mere inches from their feet.

    "Or you could use this blanket a fan gave me," Ricky said without inflection, pulling the blanket and pillow from beside him on the couch and placing them on the ground in front of the armrest, meaning she'd be almost leaning against his right leg and the front of the couch.

    Her cheeks flushed, still sticky with dried tears, as Rowan looked up at Josh as if asking for permission, but there was something more urgent to the way she gazed at him. It was something dark and worrisome, despite the fact that her eyes seemed like hard, deep sapphires, captivating and beautiful and so much older than the face in which they were set. Josh wasn't sure how to respond, what she wanted to see or hear, but he nodded in hopes that would answer her. Rowan sucked a steadying breath through her teeth and stepped out from behind him, trying (and failing) to seem casual as she crossed the space and sat at Ricky's feet, the pillow between her back and the bottom of the couch's front, the blanket loosely draped over her her lap.

    It was uncomfortably quiet, a myriad of unanswered questions bubbling beneath the surface like boiling water trapped in a pot on the stove, but Rowan was clearly in no place to answer them. Her eyes stayed on the television as one of the guys, she refused to turn and see exactly who, used the Xbox controller to open Netflix.

    "What kind of movies do you like, Rowan?" Ryan-the male Ryan, as apparently the girls were elsewhere for the evening-asked her kindly.

    "Uh," she hesitated, her heart still beating too fast as it pummeled her ribs from the inside, "I don't really know. Whatever you guys want."

    The toggle switch clicked rapidly as whoever had the controller flipped through letters and typed in the title 'The Lost Boys'. "This is one of our favorites," said a voice, and Rowan forced herself to look up and see who'd spoken. It was Chris, the control in his expansive, pale, and printed hands.