Page 39 of Fighting Spirit

“You deserve to be thanked for saving my ass.”

“I’m sure you would have figured it out.”

“I absolutely would not have,” I scoff, picturing the disaster that would have unfolded if I’d been left to my own devices.

Rowan’s eyes are hard. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Do what?” I tip my head to the side in bemusement.

“Say bad things about yourself.”

What the hell? I mean, he isn’t wrong, but I’m not about to tell him that.

“Do you dothata lot?” I spit back.

“Hmm?”

“Ask inappropriate questions.”

He pauses, really considering his answer. “Yes.”

I don’t know what my face is doing, but he gives a low chuckle and ducks his head slightly. I can almost catch a hint of red playing at the edge of his ears. Who had the audacity to make this mancute?

“Well.” I put him out of his misery with a smile of my own. “I’m still glad you came.”

“Yeah, I am too.”

“You can’t think of a hundred better uses of your evening?” I quip, though insecurity threads my voice.

“No place I’d rather be.”

Even though I know it’s not true, I want to believe it. Does he just feel bad about the whole kidnapping thing? I bristle at the idea that he feels responsible for me somehow. I’m so sick of people pitying me, thinking they need to take care of poor chaotic Ruth, too much of a mess to look after herself…

“What’s going on over there?” Rowan’s head is tilted to the side, making him look adorably boyish.

I frown in confusion.

“Your face went all weird, like you wanted to throw something at me.”

“It’s just… Well… Ugh, it doesn’t matter,” I trail off.

“It matters if it’s bothering you.”

“It really doesn’t, I’m being dumb.”

He pushes away from the doorframe, not stopping until he’s firmly inside my personal space. My breath catches, and I’m suddenly painfully aware that we’re standing inches away from my bed.

“We’re friends, right?” The words rumble out from his chest and I almost want to press my cheek against it, to feel that deep voice vibrate into my skull.

“Right?”

“So stop assuming I don’t want to spend time with you.”

“I’m not-”

“You are,” he butts in. “And it’s getting a little annoying.”

Annoying.I cringe internally at the word I’ve been called so often. Always too much, too loud, too emotional.

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