Page 50 of Sweat

Her eyes roll like she’s heard that line before, but that smile is still there, dripping interest. “What about you?” she asks Rowan, and now my gut feels tight too. Even if Rowan isn’t interested in Sage, I hate how easy it is for people to throw themselves at him. Like, just because he’s beautiful, he must be fair game.

“I don’t do relationships,” he answers.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “That’s what the word on the street is. Well, I’m single and wouldn’t mind staying that way so long as I’m preoccupied. You two seem like good buddies. Maybe you want to have some fun later, and we can all preoccupy each other?”

The discomfort in my gut quickly morphs into a knee-jerk laugh. It comes out so suddenly that I think I might blow a lung out of my nose. Did she just offer what I think she just offered?

I look to Rowan so we can share in this absolute bonkers twist in the conversation, but he looks the very opposite of amused. His expression is all baddie, steeled jaw and sharp eyes squinting up at the girl like she just outright called him a fag.

“Don’t you have some towels to fold?” he sneers.

Sage balks. “Thought you were a closet man-whore, Rowan. Not a total prude.”

“Just ‘cause I don’t wanna fuck you, doesn’t make me a prude.”

“Maybe your friend does.”

“He doesn’t,” Rowan says with a look in his eyes like that should be the end of the conversation, for everyone’s sakes. To me, he says, “Let’s go, Tommy. There’s not enough chlorine in this pool to mask the stench of desperation in the air.”

“Asshole,” Sage mutters as Rowan picks himself up and leaves for the locker room as fluidly as someone who hadn’t just worked the hell out of their muscles. “Is he always such a brat?” she asks me while I ungracefully pick myself up.

Ignoring her and the No Running sign, I chase after Rowan. I might have slightly longer legs, but the dude can really book it. I catch up to him at our lockers, and it looks like the steam has left his ears at least.

“You good?” I put a hand on his back, but he shrugs it away.

“I’m fine.” He rifles through his locker, finding his t-shirt and tugging it on over his head, quashing my hopes of an after-swim shower. “I just wish people would leave me the hell alone. Like, what is it about me that suggests I want to fuck every girl who speaks to me?”

“You’re hot.”

He blinks at me like I’m full of it.

“I’m telling you, Row, you’re hot. That’s just how it goes. It’s one of the main perks of having a long-term girlfriend. Women gradually stop hitting on you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not interested in having a beard.” The slight twitch of Rowan’s eye after he spoke suggests regret.

Likewise, I’m a little stunned he said that out loud. Calling a hypothetical girlfriend a beard would mean he’s gay, after all, and that’s still a forbidden word, if only when regarding Rowan.

“Do you think, maybe, we spend too much time together?” Rowan asks in a quieter tone.

“No.”

There’s a lull of silence that threatens to eat me alive.Don’t do this, Rowan. Don’t leave me high and dry again.

Leaning my back against the lockers, I say, “We’re friends. I’m your friend. Friends spend time together. They do shit together, help each other out and have each other’s backs. That’s us. I got your back. If anyone sees a problem with that, they’re just jealous no one gives a shit about them enough to have their back.”

Thankfully, Rowan nods at that. “Okay.”

This time when I rub the back of his shoulder, he doesn’t flinch away. “You hungry?” I ask, because there’s still over an hour until practice.

After a heavy sigh, Rowan nods. “Whatcha have in mind?”

“In-N-Out?”

He half smiles, laying those dreamy eyes on me again. “So basic.”

Now, I’m balking. “You don’t like In-N-Out?”

“I didn’t say I don’t like it. I said it’s basic.”

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