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Date.
I’m on a date with Rowan Stone. My stalker, my savior, my–
I don’t know what he is. I don’t even know what I want him to be. He’s still holding something back. Still hiding secrets. Secrets that I so epically failed in obtaining today. I’m not sure if this date was just a ploy to take my mind off all the things he didn’t tell me. I’m not sure if I care at the moment when I’m sporting a food baby and suffering from a heavy case ofmal del puerco.I could use a nap.
Whatever, it’s working.
For a moment, I can forget who–what–Rowan is. I can forget that there are still secrets between us that are miles long. For a single moment, I can pretend we’re normal, and this is a regular date between two people who aren’t as fucked up as we are.
“There’s more planned than this?” I ask, my eyes widening. I’m not sure I’ve had a decent meal in a long time. And Rowan let me order whatever I wanted without batting an eye.
You bet your ass I took advantage of that.
Never pass up free food. Ever. It’s like a rule.
“Yes.” He grips me and pulls me along.
More walking.
I groan, throwing my head back. “We could just go home and sleep,” I offer, only slightly hopeful after following him around all day.
His heated gaze roves over me, and it suddenly pushes away all my tiredness. I know what the gaze means, and it fills me with so much wanting along with the slightest slivers of fear.
“Not a chance,” he tells me with a smile as he pulls me against his side and guides me to whatever he has planned next.
I don’t have time to protest much anyway because after a few short blocks of walking, we’re back at the hockey arena, and he’s pulling me into the empty, creepy place. Only a janitor lingers in the halls, mopping the floors and eyeing us as he leads me down a long hallway. Toward the ice.
“What the fuck?”
He grabs a bag that’s on one of the seats as if just waiting for him. He unzips it and hands me a pair of skates. “Put these on.”
I stare from the skates to his face. “Absolutely not.”
“That wasn’t a question, Little Bird.”
“I am not skating. Those are death traps.”
His lip quirks to the side before his features smooth over. “Put them on. I’m going to teach you.”
I hold my palms out and back away slowly. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to wait at least an hour after eating before you skate?”
His brows kick up. “That’s for swimming.”
“Pretty sure it’s for any and all strenuous activity. Nope. You won’t catch me hurling on that ice. Could never be me, sir. Could never be me.”
I’m rambling and I don’t care. A sudden nightmare flashes before my eyes. One in which I’m on the ice, my limbs flail, and I accidentally slit my own throat with the blade of a skate.
They look sharp enough to kill.
The fear must be prominent in my gaze because Rowan lowers the skates and steps towards me. I back away, but the backs of my thighs hit the bleachers, and I fall on my ass in a seat. Rowan merely looms over me, unfazed by my absolute lack of grace.
His arms cage me, and he leans down, dark hair fanning against his eyes. His jaw works, and his eyes flare as he takes me in.
“Do you think I’m weak?”
I blink at the suddenness of his serious question.
“No?”
