Page 220 of Playing Dirty
The rooftop noise kept crashing around us. Music shaking the floor beneath our feet, people shouting over each other, glasses clinking somewhere near the bar.
But none of it reached properly.
Not with her standing this close.
“You’re staring again,” Rowan said quietly.
“You noticed.”
“That’s not a denial.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
“You always want answers,” I said.
“You always avoid them.”
“Maybe because you ask dangerous questions.”
That got a reaction.
Small shift in her expression.
But real.
“Dangerous?” she repeated.
I looked at her for a second too long.
“Yeah.”
The word landed heavier than it should’ve.
ROWAN
He was different tonight.
Still controlled.
Still careful.
But thinner somehow.
Like the walls were there, just not reinforced properly anymore.
And that was somehow worse than if he’d just lost control completely.
Because now every honest thing felt accidental.
Which meant real.
A burst of laughter exploded somewhere behind us.
Someone nearly tripped into the couch before their friend caught them.
The party was getting sloppier by the minute.
