Closer to the Edge

Rowan couldn’t help but smile as she walked out of her father’s office. Okay, he wasn’t pleased, but he hadn’t turned Paul away (and, okay, he really didn’t know about Ash and Martin but, well, he wouldn’t turn them away once they were already there). As she met Ash in the hallway, she didn’t speak; she just motioned for her to follow. The walk back towards the kitchen was quick, considering they were no longer concerned with being quiet, and they met Martin and Paul at the edge of the woods.

“He passed out again,” Martin said once the two girls walked up to him.

Rowan sighed. “Can you get him inside?”

“Of course I can,” Martin snapped.

“Don’t play the hero, Martin, just fucking pick him up, alright?” Rowan told him.

Martin rolled his eyes. “Where am I taking him?”

“My bedroom. From the inside this time,” she added.

+

By the time Martin had gotten Paul up the stairs, he was about to faint. It definitely was not an easy task lugging a one-hundred-and-forty pound, six-foot-two teenage guy up some stairs, but Martin managed (and would also proclaim that he could do it because he was a bad ass). Rowan and Ash ran in front of him to open the door, Rowan flipping on the light on her nightstand. She glanced around, taking in the familiar sights, and couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed—nothing had been changed; the box from her dress and shoes was still on the floor. She picked them up, setting them by her trash can, and pulled the black and white comforter from the pillows so Paul could fit under it.

“You can set him on the bed,” Rowan told him.

“Okay,” Martin said, his voice soft, and he carried Paul over to the bed, setting him down (though, Rowan would argue that he really just dropped him). He let out a curse, rubbing his shoulder, and he frowned at Rowan. “I’m not carrying him again.”

“Well, hopefully you won’t have to carry him again, babe,” Ash said, walking up behind him.

“I’m fuckin tired,” Martin said, sitting down on the bed next to his best friend.

Rowan was about to reply when a soft knock came from the door; her head whipped towards the door to see her father standing there. She bit the inside of her cheek, hoping he wouldn’t say anything about Martin and Ash.

“Rowan,” Nicolo said, motioning for her to follow him.

“Good luck,” Ash mumbled.

Rowan felt herself smile as she walked towards the door; she paused briefly to turn back to them. “Get him ready for bed; try to clean him up a little if you can. I’m going to make you guys up a room, okay?”

Ash nodded. “Thank you.”

Rowan didn’t reply, she just nodded and shut the door behind her as she followed her father into the hallway. “Yeah?”

Nicolo’s fingers rubbed against his jawline. “There’s more?”

“They’re the people who saved me.”

“They’re the people who took you.”

“And they’re the people who saved me,” she repeated, her voice hard.

Nicolo sighed. “You trust them?”

She nodded.

“Fine. Get some rest. We’ll have lunch at noon and talk, okay? All of us,” Nicolo said.

Rowan nodded again.

Nicolo leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Be safe, okay?”

“Will do, dad,” Rowan said. She watched as he walked away before she walked into the guest bedroom against the hall and turning the bed down. It wasn’t the biggest room, it wasn’t even the cleanest, but it would do for one night. And she had the sneaking suspicion that Martin and Ash wouldn’t care if it was a little musty. With one final glance over the room, she walked out and over to her own bedroom.

“You good?” Ash asked as soon as she walked in.

Rowan nodded. “Yeah. Um, you and Martin are across the hall. If you need anything, come get me, okay?”

“Thank you,” Ash said softly.

She shrugged. “You guys helped me,” she told them simply.

Ash looked over at Martin, who was staring at his feet. She rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the gut.

Martin let out a very unattractive ‘oof!’ sound and rubbed at his stomach, glaring at his girlfriend.

“Tell her thank you,” she said softly, more mouthing the words than speaking them.

Martin frowned and sighed audibly. “Thank you.”

Rowan tried not to smile but she failed; instead, she glanced down at the ground. “It’s no problem,” she told them.

“Well, we’re gonna get to bed,” Ash said, pointing towards the door.

“Good night,” Rowan said, only slightly awkwardly. It still felt like a pseudo-slumber party and, well, she had never had any sort of slumber party before, so.

“Where are you going to sleep?” Martin asked quickly.

Rowan shrugged. “In my room.”

“With Paul?”

“Wherever I fall asleep,” Rowan said, her tone clipped.

“In this room?”

Rowan’s jaw clenched. “Go to bed, Martin. Be up by noon. We’re all having lunch with my father.”

“Don’t stay in here with him, Rowan,” Martin said.

“Martin—“ Ash interjected, resting her hand on his forearm.

“I’ll stay wherever I wish, Martin. Go to bed,” Rowan repeated.

“Martin—“

“I don’t trust it, Ash,” Martin said through gritted teeth.

“Get out of my room, Martin,” Rowan said calmly.

Ash gripped his arm and pulled him to the door. “I’m sorry, Rowan, just… Just ignore him. I’ll talk some sense into him,” she promised.

“It’s fine,” Rowan told her, following them to the door and shutting it quietly as they left the room. She let out a sigh and walked over to her dresser, pulling out a pair of gym shorts and an oversized cotton sweatshirt. She glanced back at Paul before shrugging; he had seen her in less, it wasn’t a big deal. She quickly changed from her jeans and t-shirt to her pajamas and she walked back over to the bed. She spared a glance at Paul, who actually looked as if Martin had tried to clean some of the blood off of his face (though he probably didn't) and she felt herself smile before she reached over him for another pillow.

“Rowan…”

Rowan was startled but hid it well. “Yeah?” she asked, glancing back down at Paul. His eyelids were fluttering, his lips parted and chapped, and, okay, maybe Rowan found him ridiculously attractive. But that wasn’t the point. “Are you okay, Paul?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Rowan…” he repeated, clearing his throat. He lifted his right hand and rested it on her back; he slid his hand up his back and to her neck.

She wanted to ignore the way that her skin tingled at his touch, but she couldn’t. “Yeah?” she found herself asking again, her tongue darting out to moisten her chapped lips.

A smile came over Paul’s face. “You need a shower,” he told her, his eyes drifting open.

Rowan laughed slightly, rolling her eyes. “Shut up, Paul,” she whispered, gripping her pillow and starting to pull away.

“Don’t go.”

Rowan paused. “I’m just going to be over here, okay?”

“You can’t sleep on the floor—it’s uncomfortable,” Paul said, his voice thick with sleep and tinged with pain.

“I’ve slept through worse,” she told him. “Tied to a chair, remember?” she asked, a small smile on his face.

Paul didn’t smile. “I’m so sorry, Rowan.”

“Ssh, don’t apologize,” she told him.

“Lay with me.”

Rowan bit her lip. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea—“

“Because of Martin?”

Her eyes widened but she couldn’t bring herself to be upset. “You’ve been awake for how long?”

“Since I almost broke Martin’s back halfway up the stairs,” Paul told her, a soft smile on his face.

“You didn’t—“

“Watch you change?” Paul asked. “Of course.”

Rowan laughed. “Don’t be a creep,” she told him, tossing her pillow on the floor by the bed.

“Then don’t sleep on the floor,” Paul told her. “It’s not comfortable and you deserve to sleep in your own bed.”

“But—“

“No buts,” Paul said, tugging at her arm. And if he had all of his strength, he would’ve succeeded in pulling her against him. But since he didn’t, he couldn’t, and she only stumbled awkwardly until her knee landed on the bed, holding up the rest of her body.

“But my pillow—“

“You don’t need one.”

Rowan sucked in a deep breath, but she knew that any argument from then on out was for appearances only. She had no reason to not join him under the covers; she had no reason to sleep on the floor (other than Martin and, really, he wasn’t a reason at all); she had no reason to not give into Paul and his big, brown eyes. So she did. She climbed over him and crawled under the blankets, and she would have no trouble admitting that she felt more comfortable then than any other time.

“Good girl,” he muttered, sliding his good arm around her waist to pull her closer to his chest.

“Am I hurting you?” Rowan asked her voice soft; she felt as though if she were to raise his voice, the moment would be broken.

Paul shook his head, resting his head against hers.

“Shit, I gotta set the alarm,” Rowan groaned, lifting up and leaning over him, setting her alarm quickly.

Paul’s hand fell to the waistband of her gym shorts and he slid his fingers over her warm back. “You’re really pretty.”

Rowan paused, glancing down at him. “What?”

“I think you’re really pretty,” Paul repeated.

She tried to fight the flush rising across her cheeks but couldn’t. Instead, she rolled her eyes and turned off the lamp that was on her nightstand. “I think you have a concussion,” she told him with a smile.

“I don’t.”

Rowan curled up against his side; she didn’t reply.

Paul turned on his own side, with a bit of difficulty, and tilted her chin up so their eyes could meet in the dark. “I lied,” he whispered.

Rowan froze. “What? What are you talking about?”

“I don’t think you’re pretty.”

Rowan scoffed. “Thank you?”

“I know you are,” Paul corrected himself with a wide smile.

“I still think you’re delusional,” Rowan told him.

Paul laughed softly. “I know.”

And with that, he closed the distance between their lips. And okay, maybe that time it was a little more perfect than before. Paul’s fingers twisted in her hair as she gripped the black fabric of his t-shirt. It could’ve been that it was perfect because it was Paul, but Rowan couldn’t be sure; she didn’t have a lot of experience in those sorts of situations. And instead of overanalyzing (like she normally did), she allowed herself to give in.

At least, just that once.