FORTY-ONE ARABELLA

FORTY-ONE

Arabella

IT’S Sunday afternoon and we’re in Rowan’s Ferrari, headed back to Lancaster Prep. Beau is in the back seat with his headphones on and his focus on his phone and nothing else. I’m in the passenger seat, and I keep sneaking looks at Rowan, both loving and hating how attractive I find him when he drives.

What am I even thinking? Everything he does, I find attractive. The crush I had on Rowan has bloomed into something bigger after spending the last ten days with him. I’m consumed. He’s all I think about, and the best thing?

I’m pretty sure he feels the same way I do.

That’s also a rather depressing realization, because I’m leaving. My mother texted me yesterday with all of the information about our upcoming Paris trip. She sent me a link to the first-class ticket she booked for me. I’m flying by myself to Paris and meeting them at the hotel. There will be someone there to escort me from the concourse and help me through customs, gathering my luggage before I’m driven to the hotel. She’s taken care of everything, and I suppose I should’ve thanked her but I barely responded at all.

I’m still mad at her. She’s most likely still irritated with me as well, and that’s fine. I’m okay with it. I thought it was interesting that I fly out the evening of the last day of school, Friday the Thirteenth. Fitting, no?

I hate it. Feels like I’m going to my impending doom.

“Tired?” Rowan asks me, his deep voice breaking through my depressing thoughts.

“Oh.” I smile then shake my head. “No. Just thinking.”

He doesn’t ask what about and I’m glad. I don’t want to tell him.

Instead, he reaches out, settling his hand on my knee and giving it a squeeze. Yesterday was a good day. We went to that cafe and picked up breakfast sandwiches and coffee before we went to the same park where we messed around in his car. This time, we sat outside at a picnic table, sharing a bench, the two of us bundled up since it was freezing cold, even though it was sunny. We talked, always keeping things light. I took the breaded ends of my sandwich and threw them at the ducks that waddled up to our table, and they fought over those pieces in a frenzy of quacking and feathers flying, making us both laugh.

There was something about Rowan yesterday—the last few days, really—that was so at ease. No more scowling. No more grumpy remarks or grumbling. He’s smiling more. He’s paying close attention to me at all times and he’s just …

He’s sweet.

I knew he had it in him.

“I don’t want to go back to school,” I admit, my voice so low he might not have heard me, but he did. I can tell by the way his hand tenses on my knee and he gives me another squeeze.

“Why not?”

“Real life sucks.” I turn in my seat so I can study him, leaning my cheek against the headrest. “Can’t we just stay here forever?”

His smile is wistful. “We only have a few more months and then school is done forever.”

“I only have a few more weeks, and then I’m gone,” I remind him.

“Right.” He removes his hand from my knee, settling it on the steering wheel. “I forgot.”

I don’t know how he could, considering it’s been on the fore-front of my mind since I found out. Maybe it’s not that big of a deal that I’m leaving. Maybe he won’t miss me. Maybe he’s—maybe he’s glad that I’ll be gone.

No. He would never feel that way. He cares about me too much. I know he does. I saw it in the way he treated me Friday night. And even yesterday. After our experience at the park, we went back to his house and hung out with his mom and dad, watching a movie. It was fun. Then we all went out to dinner, Rowan’s aunt Charlotte and uncle Perry and their children joining us. Once we came back to the house, we both said we were tired and went to bed early.

All lies. Row snuck into my room and we did it all night. It was amazing. I lost track of how many orgasms he gave me—three? Four? Whatever the number was, I was left in a heap of boneless exhaustion by the time we were done, and I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. When I woke up hours later, he was gone.

Like he’d never even been there.

Traffic is terrible on the way back to campus, as if everyone is headed back home, and we finally arrive almost an hour later than it should’ve taken us. The sun has already set and it’s mostly dark, the lights that line the walkways on campus are on. The moment Rowan shuts off the engine, Beau is out of the car, taking his duffel bag with him.

“See you guys tomorrow,” he calls before he dashes off.

Rowan and I slowly get out of the car, both of us going to the trunk. I watch as he pops it open and pulls each of my bags out of its depth. I can’t believe he fit them all in there, but he worked a miracle.

“Thank you,” I tell him once he’s done. I don’t know how I’m going to manage all three of the suitcases back to my room, but I’ll figure something out. “I’ve got this.”

“Arabella.” His voice is tinged with irritation, like he can’t believe I said that. “I’m walking you back to your room.”

“Oh.” Why am I assuming everything’s going to go back to the way it was, when everything between us has changed? I’m being ridiculous, but at least I’m being consistent. “Okay. I appreciate that.”

He slams the trunk lid so hard I jump. And when I glance over at him, I see that scowl. The one I’m so familiar with but somehow, it feels different. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I—nothing is wrong with me.” I wring my hands together, fighting the nerves that are swarming me. “This is weird, you know?”

“What’s weird?” He approaches me slowly, as if he’s afraid I’m going to dash off at the last second, and I wait for him, breathless, my eyes falling shut when he touches my cheek, rubbing his palm against my skin.

“The one thing that felt familiar to me now that we’re back on campus is the scowl you aimed in my direction.” I lean my face into his hand, closing my eyes for the briefest moment. “I’m not used to kind Rowan while being here.”

“Bells.” I crack open my eyes to meet his gaze once more. “You need to get used to kind Rowan, as you call me.”

“Really?” I curl my fingers around his wrist, hanging on to him. “So this wasn’t all a dream?”

He slowly shakes his head, his lips curling in amusement. “It definitely wasn’t a dream. The last week actually happened.”

“Thank God,” I breathe, making him chuckle.

“Tomorrow, when we’re all back in class, everyone is going to know that you’re mine.” His tone is fierce and he pulls me in closer, dropping a possessive kiss to my lips.

“We have a lot of projects to work on together,” I remind him. “American Government and psychology.”

“Ah yeah. I told my mom about that and she laughed. That’s how she first got together with my dad. Skov paired them up for a psychology project. Before that, she believed he hated her.”

“No way. Who could hate your mom?” I’m smiling. I love that we experienced something similar to his parents, though we’re together now. We didn’t need a psychology project to make it happen. “That’s so funny.”

“That’s what my mom said.” His expression turns serious. “Look, we have to make the most of the time we have left together, don’t you think?”

I nod, my heart lodging in my throat. “We only have a few weeks.”

“I know. Two to be exact, right?”

“Yes. My mom booked my ticket. I’m leaving on the thirteenth.”

“You’re not staying over the weekend?” His brows draw together and he looks sad, something I rarely see.

“No. My mom said something about how she wanted to spend as much time as possible in Paris. It’s her favorite city.”

“Okay. Well.” He says nothing else, dropping his hand from my face and leaving me where I stand, grabbing the handles of two of my suitcases. “Can you get that one?”

“Yes.” I go to the carry-on suitcase he didn’t grab and extend the handle, pulling it behind me as I start walking. Row keeps up with my brisk pace and I realize everything is different. Rowan no longer has the boot on his foot so he can walk at a normal speed. I’m sure he still needs to take it easy, but I’d guess he can go back to working out. Maybe concentrate on football for his future? It’s something we’ve never discussed.

Maybe I don’t have the right to discuss it with him because I won’t be around anymore. I won’t see what happens to him, but I’m still curious. So curious that by the time we’re at my dorm suite and he’s bringing my suitcases into my room, I have to ask.

“Do you still want to play football?”

He goes still for a moment before turning to face me. “I would love to, but I don’t think my ankle can handle it. That fucker broke it in two places.”

“I remember,” I murmur. It was a heart-stopping moment, one I’d rather forget.

“I talked about it with my coach, and he warned against me trying for college. I had some interest before the accident, even a couple of offers, but I haven’t heard anything since that playoff game.” A ragged exhale escapes and he thrusts his fingers in his hair, pushing it away from his face. “I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

“I’m so sorry.” I feel awkward. I don’t know what to do. I’m tempted to offer him comfort, but from his body language I don’t think he wants it.

“It’s okay.” He shrugs. “We don’t always get what we want, right?”

“Right,” I whisper.

I’ve never related to something more than what he just said. I’m not getting what I want, and neither is he. Our timing is all wrong.

And it sucks.