Closer to the Edge

Rowan was uncomfortable. She wasn't the biggest fan of dresses (though, alright, the BCBG dress she was currently sporting was amazing) and she felt as if everyone was looking at her. And maybe they were. She and her crew (which she would probably never call them again...) made a pretty grand entrance. Even though the mask hid her face, she still had a sinking feeling that someone was watching her.

Maybe they were, though. She had tried to blend in by removing her piercings (begrudgingly...and Paul even removed his lip ring as well) but she still felt as if she stuck out like a sore thumb.

"You good?" Paul asked, his voice low as they approached the ever cliché punch bowl.

Rowan turned away from him, pretending as if they were unacquainted. "Ever get the feeling that people are watching you?"

Paul smiled, pouring himself a cup of punch, secretly wishing it was spiked so it would help take the nerves off. After one sip, he frowned; it was just fruit punch. "Every day."

"Where are Ash and Martin?" she asked, scratching the back of her neck.

"Don't be nervous, babe," he whispered.

"I'm fine," she muttered, glancing around the room it was huge, larger than a room probably should be, but it was beautiful. The ceilings were high, candles were lit everywhere, the music was playing, and Rowan understood why people were finding themselves lost in the ambiance of the room.

"It's a big room, huh?" Paul commented, noticing the way her eyes darted around the room.

"Hmm?"

"The room," he told her. "It's bigger than it should be, yeah?"

"Oh, right," she said dismissively. She wasn't a fan of how he could read her so well. And she would not admit that, okay, maybe it was kind of nice, but it was mostly annoying.

Paul smiled, looking away. He knew that face and he knew her reactions, but he wasn't going to push anything. With another glance around the room, he saw his father. He wanted to look away but he couldn't. He wanted to know if his father could tell that it was him, but he wasn't sure if it was worth the risk.

Their eyes locked and Paul’s hands started to sweat. It was something that he couldn't control. His father’s eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to figure something out, and Paul felt himself smile as he forced himself to look away. He turned his back and met Rowan’s eyes, motioning for her to follow him.

Rowan did so; it wasn't the right time to argue. She joined him on the other side of the room. He took her hand in his and felt a little bit better. It was almost as if she wasn't waiting on Ash and Martin to set up a bomb so things could be, well, taken care of.

"It's okay. Everything’s gonna be fine," he told her.

"I should be the one telling you that, right?" she said with a laugh.

Paul smiled, sliding his fingers through hers. "Maybe, but it's okay."

"Well...everything’s gonna be okay," she told him with a slight smile.

Paul laughed lightly. "Oh, well, thank you for the support. That means a lot to me."

Rowan smiled and could feel herself flushing underneath the black mask. She hated how he had the ability to make her flush and giggle at the same time, even when she was uncomfortable or angry. It was an unfair advantage, one that she wished she had over him as well. But she doubted that. She glanced back up at him, shivering slightly when she noticed he was still looking at her. And she couldn't decide what kind of a stare that it was; a casual glance or more, she wasn’t sure.

"Do you want to dance?" Paul asked suddenly.

Rowan paused, momentarily caught off guard. “What?"

Paul smiled. "You know, dance? That thing that everyone else is doing but us?"

Rowan turned around and looked at everyone else in the room. And, okay, maybe they were mostly dancing. But Rowan wasn't a good dancer and she didn't know how she felt about being in such close proximity to Paul without an escape route. And it wasn't as if she needed an escape route, but it was always nice to have one, just in case.

"Is that your polite way of rejecting me?" Paul asked, still smiling.

Rowan wondered for a minute if he was trying to play it off, but she decided that she really didn't care. "I’m too nice to reject you," she told him, "it's just..."

"Just...what?" he asked with a laugh. "Just...don't want to get that close to me?" he wondered, taking a step closer to her.

Rowan cleared her throat, instinctively taking a step back. Which was actually a surprise to her since she wasn’t the type of person to back down from anything. "No, it's not that," she told him.

Paul smiled; he enjoyed messing with her head. It was fun seeing her on edge. "Yeah, you sure?" he asked, reaching for her other hand to pull her closer.

"Yes, I'm sure," she told him, attempting to take another step back.

Paul didn't let her. He released her hand and slid his arm around her waist. "What if I made you dance with me?"

Rowan scoffed. "You can't make me so anything," she told him.

"You sure?" he asked, pulling her closer. His grip on her waist tightened and didn't miss the small squeak that slipped from her lips.

"Personal bubble," she told him, looking down at their stomachs, which were pressed together tightly. She rested a hand on his chest and tried to push him away, but Paul resisted.

"I think you want to dance with me," Paul told her. "But I think that you want to pretend that you don't want to. Though I'm still trying to figure that out."

"Why would I pretend that I wouldn't want to dance with you?" she asked incredulously.

"We have to get on the floor because people are starting to stare," he told her before proceeding to pull her out onto the dance floor.

"Paul, what are you—“

"We are in cognito," he told her, snapping slightly and pulling her close again. "We probably shouldn't use our real names," he mused.

Rowan rolled her eyes. "Are you going to answer my question?"

"I think you like having the upper hand," Paul told her, and this time he wasn't joking.

Rowan chewed at the inside of her cheek. Okay, maybe he was right about that one. She had been preoccupied with having the upper hand for so long that she never really noticed when she was acting like that. But Paul, no, Paul could see right through her.

"And I think you're scared to let anyone else have it because you don't want to be the vulnerable one," he added.

Okay, the whole being-right-thing that Paul had going on was really starting to annoy her.

"And I'm met with stony silence which means I am, however much you don't want to admit it, right," he said with a victorious smirk.

"Don't brag," Rowan told him, allowing him to lead her across the dance floor. Ad she didn't even think about her two left feet because the look in Paul’s eyes made it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

"You basically admitted that I'm right, and that's good enough for me," he told her.

Rowan rolled her eyes behind her mask. "Do you think they’re done yet?"

Paul shrugged carelessly, or as much as he could with his arms otherwise occupied with making sure Rowan didn't slip away. "I don't know. Let's just enjoy the dance for now," he suggested.

"But what if—“

Paul leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. "What did I tell you about what ifs?"

Rowan bit her lip. "I'm not sure. Maybe you should remind me," she told him.

Paul smiled. "I will accept that," he murmured before pressing his lips against hers again. He never even liked the idea of public displays of affection, but it was different with Rowan. With her, he felt it was more of a claim, more of a promise than anything else. And in the middle of a crowded ball room, his father’s crowded ball room, it was the perfect place to make that claim.

+

Ash frowned as Martin lugged the bag into the bathroom. "Really? Could you be any louder?" she muttered facetiously.

Martin turned around to look at her as she shut the door. "Yes. Yes I could be. Do you want to try me?"

"No, I would prefer to just get this done," she snapped.

"Well I'm hoping that this doesn't take too long," Martin said, "because I need a drink."

"You don't need a drink; you want a drink," she told him.

Martin rolled his eyes. "Can we just get to work?"

"Didn’t I say the exact same thing ten minutes ago?"

"Whatever. Where are the directions?"

Ash let out an exaggerated gasp. "Wait, a guy who's actually going to read the directions?" she asked.

Martin sighed. "Why are you being so nasty today?"

Ash rolled her eyes. "Because it's not every day that we have to set up a..." she cut herself off, glancing around the empty bathroom (save for Martin) and lowered her voice about three octaves, "bomb."

Martin shook his head. "You gotta trust me on this one, babe. I know what I'm doing."

Ash frowned. "Is that why you need the directions?"

"No, that's because I don't want to fuck it up and blow your pretty little face to pieces," he told her before pinching her cheek.

Ash slapped his hand away. "I'll be nice to you once this is done and we can get out of all of this DiGiovanni and Delvecchio drama," she told him.

"We knew what we were signing up for, Ash," he said calmly as he dug up the directions that Ty had written up for him out of his pocket.

"I know, it's just different, you know? Talking about what to expect and what actually happens," she muttered, pulling out a screwdriver and unhooking the mirror from the wall.

"Yeah, but it's what friends do," Martin said, grabbing her by the hips and setting her upon the counter. "You got this?"

For once, Ash was unsure of herself. She fiddled with the screwdriver in her hands before leaning over to kiss her boyfriend quickly.

Or, well, it was intended to be quick but Martin didn't want it to end so soon.

Ash pulled away slowly and smiled softly as Martin pressed a kiss against her forehead. "Just in case anything goes wrong, just know that I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too, baby. But trust me—I won't let anything happen to you, okay?"

Ash nodded, and it wasn't for any other reason than he knew that he was telling the truth. And that was enough.

+

By the time the song ended, Rowan had made her way across the room with Paul. They stood by the wall, in the midst of a few other couples, and Rowan kept scanning the crowd for any sight of Ash or Martin. Her nerves were on edge and not even Paul could calm her down. She was holding it in well but she had the sudden urge to throw up. It was different this time around—planning had been one thing but putting said plan into action was a completely new experience.

“I see her,” Paul commented, nodding towards their left.

Sucking in a deep breath, she started to follow Paul across the room.

Paul stopped suddenly when he saw his father step out in front of him.

“What are you doing here?” Anthony asked, arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Paul said, attempting to disguise his voice, but it didn’t really work.

“You’re not a part of this family anymore, Paul,” Anthony told him tersely. “Get out of my house.”

“With pleasure,” Paul said, grabbing Rowan’s hand and walking up the flight of steps that was going to take them out of the house. He met Martin’s eyes across the way and glanced towards the door; Martin nodded and grabbed Ash’s hand before walking in the same direction. Even though they had a car waiting right around the corner, it still felt to Rowan as if the walk was four miles long.

When Rowan climbed into the back of the car, Paul’s hand found hers once more. And with one reassuring squeeze, the nerves floated away. And as they drove off quickly, she vaguely heard the explosion in the background. And while part of her was sick to her stomach, the other part of her couldn’t have felt more relieved.