***

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.

"Are you feeling any better?" Rowan asked in a lower tone, and I leaned my head back against the headrest.

"I'm great." I said, sure he could hear the irritation in my voice.

"Okay, you just looked upset earlier so—"

"Why do you care?" I snapped back, turning to face him. He glanced at me quickly with an interested look in his eyes before turning back to the road.

"Well I was the one bringing you, so it's on me if something happened."

"Nothing happened." I lied, glaring out the window. "I was just in a weird mood okay?"

Rowan nodded, taking the turn to my street.

"Okay."

I bit my lip again before wincing and covering it with the napkin. We sat in silence again and I grew frustrated. How come he could ask me whatever he wanted and I was kept in the dark?

"Anyway you didn't need to drive me. You seemed to be having a good time." I said, bitterly thinking of the girl who'd been clinging to him on my way out.

"I wasn't."

"Why not?" I asked, flipping the question on him.

"Because you seemed miserable." He said without even a pause.

My mind blanked for a moment, wondering why on earth he kept going out of his way for me.

"I'm sorry for ruining your night then." I said, looking back out the window.

"You haven't ruined my night."

"It seems so."

"I guess you're still mad at me."

"What do you mean 'mad at you'?" I asked as he pulled over outside my house. My mom had left the outside lights on for me, but instead of opening the door I turned back to Rowan.

"For what I told you that night."

I felt my face flush in panic.

"I'm not mad at you for that."

It wasn't a lie, and I didn't realize it until then.

"You are, and it's understandable—"

"No, I'm not."

"Evan—"

"I'm not fucking mad I'm embarrassed!"

Rowan stared blankly at me, before his eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"Why are you embarrassed?"

I frowned at him. He genuinely looked confused, which in itself was confusing to me. He was the one who seemed to always be able to read my thoughts.

"Because rejection is embarrassing?" I said, feeling myself get defensive. Of course he won't know. He's never been rejected.

"I didn't mean to make you feel rejected." I shrugged.

"Okay."

"Evan, I kissed you..." His eyes flashed down to my lips and I looked away, not wanting to be reminded of that day. The memory brought me too much false hope.

"I know." I said, watching as a car slowly drove by us. "But then you said you regretted it."

"I didn't say I regretted it..."

"Yeah, you did."

"I said that I shouldn't have, not that I regretted it."

"Is that not the exact same thing?"

"No." I shrugged again and stayed silent. I wasn't going to pick apart the two sentences and evaluate them when they sent me the same meaning. "There are things in my life, that would put you in danger... if I hadn't stopped it where it started."

"Yeah, yeah. You sound like Edward Cullen." I said dully.

Rowan frowned.

"Who?"

Oh my fucking god did I just derail the conversation for a Twilight joke.

"Twilight?" I asked, and Rowan shook his head.

"Never seen it." He said. I leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes.

"That's probably for the best."

"Okay. But you shouldn't be embarrassed, Evan."

If only it were that easy.

"Right." I said, feeling as if the conversation had done nothing to help me on that end.

"Ask me a question." Rowan said, and I was taken aback. Was he serious?

"What?"

"You said earlier you don't know a thing about me. So ask me something."

"About anything?" I said, feeling my hopes rise. Rowan looked out the window, as if he were making sure no one was watching us before turning back to me.

"I'll answer what I can."

"Okay..." My mind raced to form a question while I felt my heart rate increase from his stare. "Why can't you tell me what you can't tell me?"

I thought Rowan would roll his eyes, or tell me to fuck off. But he was quiet, and stared out the window for a minute. I could tell he was trying to find an answer without giving anything away.

"It's... illegal," he finally said, which certainly didn't answer my question. I'd already assumed it'd be illegal.

"So you think I'll rat you out to the cops—"

"No. I wouldn't want you to be... implicated in any way."

"So you think you'll get caught?"

"No..."

"So why would it matter?"

"It just... does." He said, and I saw his eyes follow a car that drove by with a dangerous stare.

"Okay... why are you friends with Ben?"

"I'm not."

"You guys hang out sometimes."

"That doesn't mean we're friends." He said darkly, and I felt as if maybe I was crossing a line. "I thought you'd guess that after Eriks party over the summer?"

Shit. I'd hoped he'd forgotten about that by some dumb luck, but it was my own fault for bringing up Ben.

I tried to think, think of something he would actually answer. I figured I'd start over, and start small.

"Okay, favorite color?" His eyebrows raised and I could tell he was amused by the sudden change of topics.

"Black." He said, after his eyes flickered away from mine for a brief moment.

"Favorite book?"

"East of Eden."

"Steinbeck?" Rowan nodded, and I made a mental note to check it out.

"What're your parents like?"

I'd realized I'd never seen them. Maybe they'd been hidden in the crowds at his games in high school, and I'd just never known.

Rowan narrowed his eyes as he thought how to answer my question, and I realized it may have been asking too much.

"You don't need to answer." I said, but he shook his head.

"No, it's fine. My mom is great, she's an artist and runs a gallery downtown."

I felt myself smile, intrigued. I would've never guessed his mother to be an artist. Based on his serious and intimidating facade, I would've guessed him to be raised by a lawyer or judge or something a bit more severe.

But when I thought back to the wild, carefree kid that had helped me laugh about my first missing tooth in kindergarten, it made a little more sense. Those days he seemed to have no secrets, only pure joy.

"And my dad..." He paused, and I felt it was a sensitive subject. I was about to tell him he didn't need to continue, that I shouldn't have asked, but I was a second too late. "He's an addict."

I felt my face fall slightly, feeling regret fill me instantly. I hoped Rowan didn't see.

"Oh..." You stupid fuck why ask him about his parents? I felt horrible, I didn't know what to say, other than... "I'm sorry."

Rowan shook his head.

"No, don't be. It's just a part of life now."

I didn't know what to make of that. I couldn't possibly ask him any more questions... Why was I even asking him questions to begin with? My thoughts were scrambled, and I tried to remember the series of events that had led to this moment.

"Yeah, but... I'm sure it's still hard for you guys."

"Not anymore." He said, and I didn't know what he meant by that, but I didn't want to ask so I nodded instead.

"Well, I guess I should head to bed." I said, motioning towards the house. Rowan nodded before he reached out and touched my lower lip, which I didn't realize had been trapped between my teeth until then.

"No more biting," he said softly, and I let it go.

"I'll stop." I said, and he gave me a kind smile and removed his hand.

"Good." I sent him a nervous smile in return before stepping out of the car, and waving good-bye.

After that conversation, I didn't know what to feel. I headed back inside much more confused than I'd been all week.

I made my bed for Lucy, before laying on the living room couch and closing my eyes.

My thoughts were all over the place. Could the changes from his younger joyfulness be partly due to his father? It made the most sense, especially dealing with it at such a young age.

Cocaine is overrated... He'd told me once, not surprised that I'd guessed the small pile on the table in the back of his cousin's bar was his. Others had probably assumed he'd be an addict if they knew of his dad... They probably thought it'd run in the family.

Lucy had come home when I was half asleep, locking the door quietly. She brought me out a blanket and I mumbled a thanks to her, before turning over on the couch, my mind still going through possibilities.

I was a few seconds from sleep before a memory struck my mind.

His name is Ray Warner... His cousin, Melvin Warner owns Melvins Car Parts...

Rowan had known a lot about Ray...

My eyes snapped open and I sat up on the couch, pulling out my phone to open Facebook. I found Rowan's profile, which hadn't been used since 2015.

Makes sense, Facebook is dead.

I searched through his friends, finding an Arthur Williams and Rosie Williams. Rosie's page was full of posts containing paintings and galleries. I clicked on Arthur's profile, and carefully went to his friends list before hitting the search engine.

I heard a loud screech from outside and jumped up, quickly walking to the window and peering into the dully lit street. A car rounded the corner, leaving the road. Probably a lost drunk driver...

But I got a strange, creeping feeling about it, and made sure the doors were all locked and the curtains were drawn.

Once I was back under the blanket on the couch, I unlocked my phone again and typed Warner into Arthur Williams's friends list.

There was no Ray Warner, and I wasn't surprised as I'd searched for a Facebook account for him before and found nothing.

But Rowan's dad was friends with the man named Melvin Warner, who had Melvins Car Parts listed as his place of work.

***