Page 135 of The Menagerie

“So, uh…,” Mal starts, breaking their otherwise quiet meal. He fiddles with his milkshake straw until Rowan meets his eyes. “’S my birthday next weekend.”

Rowan’s ears perk up. “Oh yeah?”

“Mmm.”

For a moment, Rowan’s heart sinks, but he asks, “So do we need to skip next week?”

“Yeah, but…. Was gonna see if you wanted to come out.”

“Out?”

“Goin’ to a bar with Camilla, Clover, and Jeremiah.”

There’s a swelling in Rowan’s chest that should absolutely concern him.

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

Somehow, his voice remains unaffected despite the rushing in his ears.

“Cool, I’ll text you the details.”

Rowan grins and snags Mal’s milkshake to take a quick sip, the cold liquid on his tongue doing nothing to quell the heat simmering in his veins.

THE RESTof the week, Rowan agonizes over whether to get Mal a birthday present. It wouldn’t be weird, he thinks. They’re friends. With benefits, sure, but Rowan’s comfortable saying that even if they don’t really hang out outside of the club, he considers Mal a friend. Probably his best friend if he’s being honest. Which says as much about their relationship and how well they get along as it does about Rowan’s lack of a social circle.

He lays back in bed, scrolling absentmindedly through Amazon, finding nothing but cheap junk he thinks Mal would scoff at. It isn’t until he gives up and Googlesbirthday gift for fuck buddythat he finds a site that makes his eyes light up.

Perfect.

THE SATURDAYof Mal’s birthday rolls around, and Rowan has never taken longer getting ready in his life. He feels like a teenager going to prom, primping and pruning and going through his entire wardrobe to find the perfect outfit.

Eventually, he settles on gray semiformal slacks with a black button-up and his casual oxford shoes. The address that Mal had texted him was for a club in Cambridge that Rowan’s never heard of, but from the photos online looks fairly upscale. It’s a little surprising, given Mal’s penchant for shitty beer and small-town diners, but he has a feeling it wasn’t Mal who made the final choice.

He spends what feels like ages getting a perfectly smooth shave and taming his hair for the humid night. With nearly half an hour to spare and a tornado ravaging his insides, Rowan sets his GPS and heads for the club.

He arrives at the same time as Jeremiah, Camilla, and Clover, and when he sees them in the foyer, he’s glad he put so much effort into his appearance. For all Rowan’s self-confidence, this group is unnaturally beautiful and dressed to the nines.

If Rowan didn’t know that Clover and Camilla were twins, he’d never have guessed it from their wildly different appearances tonight. Camilla is sporting her signature long silvery hair, pinned back and flowing to her mid back. Her makeup is nothing short of full runway glamour, all sparkles and bold dark colors. She’s sporting a slinky dark green dress with one bare shoulder and one full-length sleeve.

Next to her, Clover’s natural blond waves and subtle makeup are more reminiscent of old Hollywood starlets. This is the first time Rowan has seen her without her customary tailored business suit, though the navy-blue jumpsuit she’s wearing and classy silver jewelry still give her that same air of authority Rowan has come to associate her with.

Jeremiah is in black slacks and a black mesh top accented with large maroon fabriqué roses. The look is completed with bold accent jewelry in both silver and rose gold, and his hair in his typical flawless sponge curls, his fade newly tidied since that last time Rowan saw him.

“Rowan!” Camilla beams when she finally sees him. “It’s so good to see you in the real world!”

Rowan laughs. “Hey, everyone. Good to see you too. Not gonna lie, though, it’s a bit weird.”

“I’m glad he actually invited you,” Clover chimes in.

“I know!” Camilla says.

“We had a running bet going,” Jeremiah says casually, as if their topic of conversation isn’t sending sparks down Rowan’s spine. “Speaking of, Clove, you owe me twenty bucks.”

“Damn, I’d hoped you’d forgotten. I’ll buy your first drink,” she concedes.

“And mine!” Camilla adds cheerily, slapping her sister on the shoulder.

“You shouldn’t even get one seeing asIwas the one who finally convinced him,” Jeremiah adds, directed at Camilla.

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