“Well, damn, dude.” He hands me the pack of smokes. “I’m going to guess the armed robbery is the lie.”
With the cigarette between my lips, I raise off the ground, wiping my ass off before lighting it. I hand the Zippo back to Rowan as he stands too, pocketing it.
“Am I right?” he asks.
Shrugging, I say, “I don’t know. Are you?”
“That’s not fair. You’re supposed to tell me if I’m right or not. It’s the way the game works.”
“The game’s stupid,” I mutter, walking toward the trail.
“Where are you going?” His footsteps sound behind me.
“Back to my room.”
It’s pretty warm out, but the breeze makes it feel not so bad. The trail is also covered almost completely by massive trees, so the sun isn’t beating down on us. As much as I’d rather be back home in my own space, I’ll admit, this place isn’t the worst place to be if I have no choice. I mean, I’d rathernotbe trapped here, especially with this fucking guy, but it could be worse.
We walk wordlessly the rest of the way back. An ear bud is still in both of our ears, my music filtering through it, occupying the silence. We make it to my building, and when I step inside, I notice he’s still following me. I sure as fuck hope he doesn’t think he’s coming to my room to hang out and chit-chat some more.
Shuffling all the way down the hallway, I reach my room. Before I scan my wristband, I glance over my shoulder as he comes to a stop, eyes wide. “You’re not fucking coming in here,” I spit out. “And I need my ear bud back.”
He hands it back. “I wasn’t going to try to come in. My room is right there.” Rowan points his finger to my left.
To the room right next door.
How did I not know he was my neighbor this entire time?
“That’s your room?”
He smiles. “Yup. See you around,neighbor.”
CHAPTEREIGHT
Rowan
“How have you been this week, Rowan?”
Dr. Weaver seems nice. Every time I’ve met with her since arriving here, she makes me feel like what I have to say matters. Like she wants to hear it all. She never makes me feel like a bother, or like I annoy her, like everyone else in my life does.
“I’ve been okay,” I reply honestly, a shrug lifting one shoulder.
She smiles as if me being okay genuinely makes her happy. “Have you made any friends here?”
“A few.” Caspian, of course, is the first one to come to mind. Although, I don’t know if he would consider usfriends.It’s been several days since we drank at the waterfall. He must’ve stayed holed up in his room the entire weekend, because I didn’t see him once, even though I was hoping to.
He doesn’t really seem like the type to keep friends. Very closed off and quiet. Also, he’s kind of a dick. Caspian is an anomaly. One I’d really like to figure out.
I’ve made a few other friends—ones who are probably more in line with what friendship actually is. There’s Josiah, the housekeeping guy I befriended. I told Caspian I gave him a blow job to get the whiskey and cigarettes.
But I didn’t. I don’t know why I lied. It’s something I tend to do often, without even meaning to.
All I did was sweet talk him and slip him a little cash. My phone doesn’t work here, but he let me log into my Venmo account on his phone to send him the money. You’d think such a high-profile rehab center would have staff who are less likely to be persuaded. Oh well, works in my favor. Apparently, there’s a bartender over on the resort side that also sells weed. Josiah said he’d get me some.
He's leaving it in my room when he cleans it today while I’m here.
It pays to be friendly. I bet Caspian and his rude ass attitude isn’t scoring weed and alcohol and cigarettes from the employees.
Why do all of my thoughts circle back to him?
