“So, varsity, huh?” I try to break the ice as I take the seat next to him.
His crossed arms flex. “I can guarantee that your jokes will be nothing new to me.”
I playfully shove him with my shoulder but his body doesn’t budge. “I’m sorry. It was a shitty thing to laugh at.”
“It was.”
“I wasn’t laughing at you.”
He glares and I laugh to myself again. The sound only makes him scowl harder to himself.
I raise both hands in submission. “Okay, I was laughing at the situation, but to be fair, I didn’t even know there was such a thing as varsity bowling.”
“Don’t beat yourself up too much over it. I’ve dealt with worse.”
Like what?! I want to learn all about the grumpy guy who played varsity bowling and joins a mentorship program for people with disabilities despite being incredibly busy. There’s more to Rowan than meets the eye, and I’m dying to learn all about this new side of him I never knew existed.
There’s this strange, albeit microscopic, part of me that wants to shield him from dealing with worse, whatever that means.
Whoa. Where did that thought come from?
Abort. “It’s kind of cool. Women love letterman jackets.”
“I valued my reputation far too much to wear that jacket at school.”
“Why?”
“Because I only joined the team to spite my father. He never specified which team I should join, so I liked beating him at his own game.”
I blink at his personal admission.
He continues on the same breath as if he might stop speaking if he takes a second longer. “He was pissed I never made it past any of the ‘real sports’ team tryouts like my brothers. While Declan was the school quarterback and Cal was the team captain of his hockey team, I was…lacking.” He clears his throat. “According to my father, that is.”
My heart clenches in my chest for the boy who struggled to live up to his father’s expectations. Rowan might be rich, but he struggles with the same kind of issues the rest of us do. Parental expectations. Personal failures.
I want to ease the tension from his shoulders. “You’re telling me you couldn’t buy your way onto the bench?” I fake gasp.
“You’re catching onto how things work.” The corner of his lip lifts. “On the contrary. I paid the coaches to keep me off those teams.”
“Why? I’ve never heard of anyone trying that.”
“I had no interest in being labeled a benchwarmer.”
“You were that bad?”
“Yes.” The lightest shade of pink floods his cheeks and I find it kind of cute.
Cute? Ugh, Zahra. No.
“I’m kind of loving the fact that you’re not the best at everything.”
He shakes his head. “One thing, Zahra. One.”
“So did you win a bowling championship?” I grin.
Rowan’s tense shoulders drop an inch. “I don’t lose. Ever.”
“Your cockiness knows no bounds.”
Rowan says nothing but the smile on his face speaks volumes. It’s stiff, like he hasn’t practiced the movement in quite some time. I’m tempted to touch it to make sure I’m not hallucinating but I keep my hands to my sides.
I shouldn’t find it as endearing as I do. And I most definitely shouldn’t crave more of that stupid, timid smile.