Page 50 of Hate Wrecked

“I don’t know if I believe that.”

I laughed “You followed your father’s footsteps. You know how it is.”

“I’m still trying to figure out if that was a mistake,” Rowan admitted, and it was my turn to look at him hard.

“You wouldn’t be here with me if you didn’t follow his path,” I whispered.

“True,” Rowan smiled. “What would you do without me?

“Rot away in that house.” I groaned. “You’re like my lifeline. I’m sorry I was distant for a while there.”

“It’s okay,” Rowan whispers. “And you’re mine, too.” We sat in silence for a while, the sound of the city below comforting. When Rowan spoke again, his voice was different. “I meant to tell you, I think I have a date this Friday. “

I shot up, my eyes searching his face. “What? I thought you said you couldn’t date right now, with the job and the learning and all that.”

“I know. That’s why it’ll likely be just one date. I didn’t ask her out. She asked me, and I could…I couldn’t say no.”

“No.See, I just did it. No. It’s easy.”

Rowan laughed. “Not always.”

“Who is she?” I asked, sounding like a child.

“Receptionist at the corporate office. I rarely go there. But I needed to fill out some medical paperwork. She always smiles when I walk in the door.”

“That’s what she’s paid to do,” I muttered.

“And she asked me out. I don’t know. I don’t have any friends here.” Rowan shrugged and I scoffed. He glanced at me. “Except you. So it might be nice.”

“She doesn’t want to be your friend. Guys and girls can’t be friends. One of them is always in love with the other.” The words fell out before I could stop them.

Rowan arched a brow at me. “Are we not friends?”

“We are the exception.”

He laughed. “We are exceptional.”

I nodded, relief lingering, trying to lull myself into a sense of safety from my humility. “Especially me,” I joked.

We spent the rest of the night talking on the hood of my car, listening to The Smashing Pumpkins, Nirvana, and Mazzy Star—examining every word. His hand in mine.

Rowan was what I needed and would cling to as Barry toyed with my innocence.

As he tore my fragile happiness to shreds.

JUST ONE GLANCE

RILEY

Our stayon the island has been a mix of routine and surprising finds. Gerald’s clever rainwater-catching system and the outdoor shower he installed have become vital to our daily lives.

Our fishing endeavors have yielded results, offering us a sustainable source of food. Yet, as we navigate this primitive existence, the relentless sea has transformed from a life-giving force to a reminder of our isolation. I often catch myself staring into the blue, both transfixed and horrified by the expanse of it.

Rowan returns to our camp with the day’s catch in hand. With skilled hands, he cleans the fish, and I observe him, relishing the feeling of normalcy he brings to our otherwise surreal surroundings.

I’ve learned how to clean fish, watched Rowan do it time and time again. He’s a good teacher, though he pisses me off sometimes with his mocking voice and eye rolls. I can tell when he’s had enough of me. He can tell when I’m over him. Sometimes, I get so mad at him because it’s easier than being mad at myself for being out here, for following him to this place. The thought of being alone with my disdain feels more comforting than being alone with myself.

Once clean, Rowan puts the fish in our fish bucket. I clean up our little kitchen and head back to the Hilton, telling him I’m taking a nap. He nods and heads off, allowing me to rest.

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