Page 104 of The Menagerie

[MS]i don’t owe you shit

His aggression catches Rowan off guard. Apparently Mal’s done being on the defensive. Rowan can practically feel the steam coming out of his own ears as he types out his reply.

[RC]No shit we’re not a couple. But you do fucking owe it to me to tell me you aren’t gonna jump into traffic if the reason for it happened with me

[MS]it woulda happened with anyone. you’re not the hot shit you think you are

[RC]I DON’T think I’m hot shit, I was fucking worried asshole

[RC]Just because you’re the club bicycle doesn’t mean you get to ride all over me

Rowan regrets the text the second he hits Send, and Mal’s response takes two full minutes to pop onto his screen.

[MS]fuck you campbell

There isn’t anything Rowan can say after that.

He knows it’s unfair to call Mal a slut when his own wild teenage years aren’t too far behind him. Kindalovesthat he is, if he’s being honest.

And he doesn’t want to leave it like this, but alongside the new cloak of shame hanging over him, there’s still a bubble of anger toward Mal floating around inside him. It may be growing smaller and weaker by the minute, but it’s there nonetheless.

He throws his phone to the other end of the bed, watching it tumble uselessly over the bunched-up comforter and clatter to the carpet below. He needs to clear his head. He grabs his running shoes and doesn’t bother changing out of his current set of sweatpants and T-shirt before heading out the door at nearly eleven at night.

APPARENTLY, TORowan’s relief, twenty-four hours is enough for them both to cool off from their tense exchange. Their regular texting starts back up again on Tuesday night with a text from Mal:

[MS]which one?

[MS]img03409.jpg img03410.jpg

He attaches two cropped screenshots of panties from a website Rowan doesn’t recognize—a black pair with crisscrossed straps in the back and a white pair with lace cutouts on the sides.

Rowan accepts the unconventional olive branch.

[RC]Black ones

[MS]thought so too

Rowan bites his lip, abandons his third rewatch ofThe Witcher, and stretches out on his couch. He types and retypes an explanation for his shitty remark the other day, but erases everything he types. Somehow, he doesn’t thinkI’m new to thisis a good excuse. So, with a heavy exhale, he settles on:

[RC]Sorry, btw

[MS]yeah me too

The relief is instant, and the angry bubble in his chest finally pops in a completely lackluster way that makes Rowan wonder why it stuck around so long.

[MS]not used to not being in control

[RC]Thought that was kind of a given being a sub

[MS]giving over control and not being in control aren’t the same

[MS]think you know that by now

[RC]Yeah

He does. Mal allows him to take the reins when they’re together because he trusts Rowan enough to do so, but that’s a far cry from having no control over yourself. Rowan wants to ask him why it happened and if it had anything to do with the woman that Rowan treated the other day who may or may not be related to Mal, but he feels like their relationship is teetering on the edge of a cliff, too precarious to do anything that might send them plunging over the side.

If they’re ever going to get to that stage, Mal’s going to have to be the one that leads them there.

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