Page 39 of The Menagerie

“Bye, Mal.”

Rowan watches him cross the street and enter a dark sedan parked at the curb. Nearly as soon as he closes the door behind him, the engine roars to life, the headlights flare on, and the car peels down the road.

MAL DOESN’Ttext Rowan for the next five days. He wants to kick himself for expecting it, for wantingit, but that’s not their arrangement. Instead, he goes to work, does chores around the house, runs a few miles each day, watches more BDSM porn than he has in his entire life, finds some legitimate websites with advice on being a good Dom, and scours them when he can get his dick to calm down for long enough.

It’s all to distract from the persistent buzzing under his skin. Anticipation.

Finally, on Thursday night, his phone dings with a message, the entirety of which he can read from the notification on the lock screen.

[MS]you still good for saturday?

Rowan scrambles to unlock his phone and type out a reply.

[RC]Yeah! 8pm?

[MS]yeah

[RC]Cool.Is there anything in particular you want to do?

[MS]want you to be rough with me. got a taste of it last time but i wanna see what you got

As soon as the words reach his brain, heat pools in Rowan’s belly as he types out a reply.

[RC]I can do that. Anything else?

[MS]didn’t get to feel you open me up. or do you not eat ass

[RC]I do. And I will

[MS]good. We’ll take it slow this time n ramp shit up later

[RC]I’d like that

Rowan doesn’t want the conversation—as short and businesslike as it is—to end, but he also doesn’t want to press his luck. They’re not close enough for lengthy conversations that aren’t about their arrangement, and he doesn’t want to be annoying and risk pushing Mal away.

[RC]See you Saturday!

Rowan follows the words with a smiley face emoji, and regrets it almost immediately. Though he wasn’t expecting a reply, a few minutes later, he gets another text from Mal.

It’s an emoji rolling its eyes.

Stupidly, it brings a smile to Rowan’s face. He can’t wait for Saturday.

Chapter 4: Two Pieces of a Puzzle

“WHAT’S UPwith you?” Addison asks when Rowan punches in on Friday morning. “You’ve been brooding fordays,and now you come in with a big smile on your face.”

“I haven’t been brooding,” he snaps back, forcing away the smile he didn’t know he’d been sporting and opening his locker to unload his backpack. He’d been not-so-patiently waiting for Mal to text him all week, is all.

“You’ve spoken, like,halfthe words this whole week that you normally speak in a day.”

Rowan gives her a flat stare. “Just got some stuff going on.”

“Uh-huh. What’s his name?”

“Why do you assume it’s a guy thing?”

Addison laughs, carrying a box of supplies to the back of the ambulance and starting to restock things they’re running low on. She speaks frankly, in a way they’ve gotten comfortable with over the course of their two-year partnership. “Rowan. You’re like a golden retriever normally, so when something’s buggin’ you, it’s painfully obvious. And you told me yesterday everything was fine with your family. Ergo, guy thing.”

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