Chapter 24

Rowan didn’t sleep much, but this time it wasn’t because her thoughts were clawing at her ribs, demanding answers she didn’t have.

It was quieter than that.

She lay on her back staring at the ceiling, the room dark except for the faint glow of her phone screen, replaying the night in pieces that felt too tender to touch too hard. Lila’s voice when she’d said I promise. The way her hands had felt steady on Rowan’s back, like she wasn’t going anywhere. And embarrassingly, inexplicably, the moment Rowan had called her sweetheart without thinking, like it had slipped straight from her chest instead of her mouth.

Rowan pressed the heel of her hand to her eyes.

She wasn’t good at this part. The after. The sitting with feelings instead of outrunning them.

Her phone buzzed once on the nightstand.

She froze.

It wasn’t Lila. Just a group chat from her team. Rowan exhaled slowly and turned the screen face down, resisting the urge to feel disappointed. Lila hadn’t promised anything beyond honesty. Rowan reminded herself of that.

Still, she smiled into the dark.

When morning came, Rowan felt exposed in a way that made her want to hide but she didn’t. She dressed carefully, not to impress, but to feel like herself. Soccer jacket. Clean sneakers. Hair pulled back just enough to stay out of her face without being armor.

Before she left, she checked her phone again.

Still nothing.

“It’s fine,” Rowan murmured to herself. “You’re fine.”

At school, the noise hit her like it always did lockers slamming, voices overlapping, the hum of a hundred small dramas unfolding at once. Usually, Rowan slipped into it easily, captain mode snapping into place like muscle memory.

Today, it felt different.

She felt… present.

Like she wasn’t bracing for impact every second.

She spotted Lila by the lockers near the math wing, laughing softly with a friend. The sound snagged in Rowan’s chest. She slowed without meaning to, watching the way Lila leaned back against the metal, how relaxed she looked like she wasn’t performing, like she wasn’t waiting for something to go wrong.

Lila glanced up.

Their eyes met.

The smile Lila gave her wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t for anyone else. It was small and warm and unmistakably Rowan’s.

Rowan’s throat tightened.

Lila excused herself easily and stepped closer, stopping just within Rowan’s space, close enough that Rowan could smell her shampoo something light, citrusy, familiar now in a way that scared her.

“Morning,” Lila said.

Rowan’s voice came softer than she expected. “Hey.”

They stood there for a beat, the hallway flowing around them. Rowan felt the old instinct to keep things light, to keep things controlled, rise up. She pushed it down.

“Walk with me?” Rowan asked.

Lila’s smile deepened. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

They fell into step together. Their arms brushed. Rowan felt the contact all the way up her spine. Her hand twitched at her side, caught between habit and want.

She let her fingers drift closer.

Their pinkies brushed.

Rowan’s heart kicked hard, but she didn’t pull away. She let her hand stay where it was, let Lila decide if she wanted more.

Lila did.

She curled her finger around Rowan’s without comment, without ceremony, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Rowan swallowed.

She hadn’t realized how badly she’d wanted to be held like this casually, openly, until it was happening.

In chemistry, Rowan stared at the same problem for ten minutes without processing a single number. Her thoughts kept circling back to Lila’s hand in hers, to the quiet certainty of it.

“You, okay?” the girl next to her whispered.

Rowan blinked. “Yeah. Just—uh—thinking.”

About everything, she didn’t say. About how terrifying and relieving it felt to stop pretending.

At lunch, Rowan stood at the edge of the cafeteria with her tray, scanning the room. Her teammates waved her over, loud and familiar. Across the room, near the windows, Lila looked up and caught her eye.

Lila didn’t wave.

She just waited.

Rowan’s chest tightened. This was the part she always messed up—the choosing. The moment where it mattered who she walked toward.

She took a breath.

Then she walked to Lila’s table.

The silence that followed was brief but noticeable. Rowan felt eyes on her, felt the hum of speculation but she kept moving. She sat down beside Lila, close enough that their thighs brushed.

Lila leaned in slightly. “You good?”

Rowan nodded, then hesitated. “Actually… I’m a little nervous.”

Lila’s brows softened. “About sitting with me?”

“About letting people see me care,” Rowan admitted quietly.

Lila’s hand slipped under the table, fingers brushing Rowan’s knee. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Rowan met her eyes. “I want to be ready.”

That earned her a smile that made something in Rowan’s chest ache—in a good way.

They talked. About nothing important. About everything. Rowan didn’t dominate the conversation like she usually did. She listened. Let herself laugh. Let herself exist without calculating how it all looked from the outside.

Halfway through lunch, Lila nudged her foot against Rowan’s under the table.

Rowan leaned closer, murmuring, “You’re distracting.”

Lila smiled, unapologetic. “You like it.”

Rowan didn’t deny it.

After school, Rowan waited by the gym, the air buzzing with the familiar pre-practice energy. This time, she wasn’t checking the clock or pretending she didn’t care who saw her waiting.

She was waiting for Lila.

When Lila finally emerged, hair loose, bag slung over her shoulder, her expression softened immediately when she saw Rowan.

“You stayed,” Lila said.

Rowan shrugged, but her voice was steady. “I said I would.”

They walked the long way toward the parking lot, passing the soccer field glowing green in the afternoon sun. Rowan slowed near the bleachers, nerves suddenly prickling under her skin.

“Can we sit?” Rowan asked. “Just for a minute.”

Lila nodded and climbed up beside her. They sat close, knees touching, the quiet stretching comfortably between them.

Rowan stared out at the field for a long moment before speaking. “I’m not good at saying things when they matter.”

Lila turned toward her fully. “You don’t have to be perfect.”

“I know,” Rowan said, voice rough. “But I want you to understand something.” She took a breath. “When I pull back, it’s not because you’re not enough. It’s because I’m scared, I won’t be.”

Lila’s chest rose slowly as she breathed in. “Rowan…”

“I’ve spent so long being the one who’s steady, who doesn’t need anyone,” Rowan continued. “And wanting you makes me feel… exposed. Like if I choose you out loud and I mess it up, everyone will see.”

Lila reached for her hand, squeezing gently. “I see you now.”

Rowan looked at her then—really looked at her. “I want you to keep seeing me. Even when I’m not brave.”

Lila smiled softly. “That’s when I want to see you most.”

Something in Rowan cracked open.

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against Lila’s shoulder, breathing her in. Lila wrapped an arm around her without hesitation, holding her like it was allowed.

Rowan closed her eyes.

“I don’t want to disappear anymore,” she whispered.

“Then don’t,” Lila said simply. “Stay.”

Rowan nodded against her shoulder. “I will.”

When it was time for practice, Rowan stood reluctantly. She hesitated, then leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Lila’s temple before she could overthink it.

“I’ll be back,” Rowan said.

Lila smiled up at her. “I’ll be right here.”

As Rowan jogged onto the field, she felt lighter—not because things were simple, but because she wasn’t carrying them alone anymore.

For the first time, vulnerability didn’t feel like weakness.

It felt like relief.