My room had always been cramped. Maybe it was all the soccer trophies lining the walls. Maybe it was my old soccer balls and boots hanging from shelves. Maybe it was the fact that I had a double bed in a single bed sized room.

Whatever it was, suddenly the room seemed a million times smaller with Rowan standing in it.

He was all long limbs and sophisticated grace in a room of clutter and embarrassing baby photos. I kicked a t-shirt on the floor out of the way before reaching over my bed to flip a lamp on.

"Sorry it's messy," I said.

"Messy?" He kicked a shoe and watched it roll to the edge of the room. "I didn't even notice."

I laughed, rolling my eyes. "Please. I'd like to see how your room looks."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I realised how they sounded. I clasped a hand over my mouth, but it was too late. Rowan smirked at me, a brow lifting suggestively as he stepped closer.

"What was that, Sebastian? You'd like to see my room?"

"You know what I meant," I groaned.

His smirk grew. "Oh, I know. Trust me. I know."

"This is my house," I started, pointing a finger at him. "I can kick you out at any time. Remember who's in charge here."

He took another step, narrowing his eyes at me. "Remind me then, Sebastian, who's in charge?"

His eyes drilled into mine and I wavered for a second before quickly catching myself, refusing to break eye contact. His lips twitched and a heavy silence filled the room for a moment.

Then, he was stepping back and leaning against my dresser, scanning my room with narrowed eyes. I released a tight breath, trying to relax my shoulders and failing. My hands – I didn't know where to put my hands. I placed them on my knees, then changed my mind, placing them on the mattress.

Why did I feel so awkward?

Below the floor, we could still hear my family chattering loudly, laughing, music playing and I briefly considered getting up and going back down there, re-joining my family. It couldn't be worse than the awkward silence that had drifted over the room.

I shifted uncomfortably, searching for something to say – a conversation starter, anything. Rowan had begun to take slow steps around the room, his narrowed eyes taking everything in.

I followed his gaze across the room, trying to imagine it from an outsider's perspective. Looking now at the old soccer shoes hanging from my shelves, covered in creases and grass stains, I wondered if it looked more sentimental or more hoarder-type behaviour. I pursed my lips, beginning to notice all the tiny details – the cracks in the corner of the ceiling, the tiny stain on the carpet from spilled soda, the wrinkled sheets of my bed.

I should have cleaned.

"Stars?"

I blinked, turning to see Rowan quirking a brow at me. Noticing my confusion, he nodded to his left, gesturing towards a little splatter of glow in the dark stars that I'd stuck to my wall years ago. I'd forgotten it was there.

I shrugged, as if it were completely normal for a college student's room to have glow in the dark stars stuck up on his bedroom wall. "I liked space."

"Wouldn't have expected that," Rowan remarked.

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know." He pushed off the dresser, beginning to circle the room. "Angsty, soccer athlete? Peaked in high school? Failing college –"

"I get it."

He threw me a smirk over his shoulder, and I glowered, watching as he slowly made his way across the floor until he was standing by the stars themselves. He reached up, brushing a finger over them.

"Point is," he said, his lips twitching. "I wouldn't have expected your secret hobby to be space, of all things. A secret space geek. Who would've thought?"

I threw him a pretend glare. "I'm multidimensional, Rowan. What, did you think I was just a dumb athlete?"

"Yes," he replied. He laughed. "That's exactly what I thought."

"Well, you were right," I said, easily. I nodded towards the corner of the room.

His eyes followed and fell to the ground where a neglected telescope lay, tucked between the wall and my dresser. He hummed, leaning back against my dresser.

"Why'd you give it up?"

I looked over to see him watching me, waiting. My eyes drifted to the telescope. I hadn't touched it in years. I wondered if it still worked.

"I loved it, for a minute," I started. "It was fun, you know? Looking into space. Imagining a world beyond ours. Trying to find constellations. Maybe I just liked the idea of aliens."

"Of course, you would believe in aliens," Rowan teased.

I lifted a brow at him. "Two trillion galaxies and not one alien?"

"My point remains."

I rolled my eyes, continuing. "Anyway, it was all fun, except I wasn't good at it. I wasn't smart enough. I don't know how stars work. I can't figure out the different types of planets and the physics behind it all. And my parents – they don't care if you're average at something. You need to be the best to stand out around here. And that was soccer for me. Soccer was my thing."

Rowan snorted and my eyes shot up to his in a glare. When I saw that laughter in his eyes, I bolted upright, my muscles tensing, my chest sinking.

"You think it's funny?"

He shrugged, pursing his lips before another laugh sputtered out. I snarled, storming towards him and shoving his shoulders back.

"What the fuck?"

"Sorry but that's just the stupidest reason to give up something you loved," he said. "You couldn't do both?"

I hesitated, my grip on him wavering. "I don't know. I was a bit busy, I guess. It was pointless. Having a below average knowledge of space wasn't going to get me anywhere."

"Who cares if it gets you anywhere? You liked it, right?"

"Well, yeah –"

"So, if you liked it, why didn't you just keep enjoying it? A hobby never killed anyone."

"I mean, my parents –"

"Seb," he said, and my eyes snapped back to his. "Fuck 'em."

I couldn't help it. I laughed, the sound bursting from my lips and ripping through the air like a knife. I clapped a hand to my forehead, shaking my head.

"You have a twisted way of looking at things," I said.

Rowan shrugged, grinning. "Do I? Or do you?"

"You, definitely," I teased. My voice softened and I found myself smiling at him. "I like it, though."

Rowan reeled back, furrowing his brow. He blinked, mouth opening and closing with unspoken words, and I felt my smile grow. Had I really rendered the incredible Rowan Baines speechless?

I stepped closer, savouring the silence I'd sent him into.

"Seriously," I continued. "You remind me of who I used to be in high school. Back when I didn't care about anything except soccer, and how good I was at it. Before I had all these... I don't know. Second thoughts. You bring me back to myself."

"It's –" his voice cracked, and my lips twitched. He scowled, clearing his throat. "It's no big deal."

"It is, though. And I was dreading coming home. I was so scared to face my family but having you there – I don't know. It helped." I paused to release an awkward laugh. My face felt hot, and I looked away. "I probably sound like an idiot."

"You always sound like an idiot."

I rolled my eyes but when I met his stare, he was smiling. It was a muted smile. The kind that played only on the corners of the mouth. And the moonlight was slanting over his face and his shirt sagged over his shoulders in a way that showed his collarbones when he moved.

I wanted to touch them.

"I'm the real idiot, though."

I blinked, my eyes snapping back up to his. He shook his head, his eyelashes fluttering. I tugged at the collar of my shirt, swallowing hard and looking away.

"What does that mean?" I asked. He didn't reply immediately so I cracked a smile and said, "What, are you failing Econ 101 or something?"

"I never took Econ 101."

"You never – what? I bumped into you in Econ 101."

"And?"

"And? What were you doing in Econ 101 if you weren't taking the class?"

He shook his head again, rubbing a hand over his eyes and chuckling quietly to myself. "God, you are dense. I'm not studying economics, Sebastian."

"You're not... What are you studying then?"

"Literature."

"I know," I said, scoffing. I laughed, rolling my eyes. "I know. Double major, right? With commerce."

"You're not –" He sucked in air through his teeth and dropped his head. "You're not getting it, Seb."

"What am I not getting? You told me you're doing a double major."

"I am!" His voice was raising, and he stepped forward, jutting his chin out. I moved back on instinct, the back of my knees hitting my mattress. "I'm doing a double major in literature and linguistics you fucking idiot."

I stared at him, my brow furrowing deep. My mouth was dry. My head was spinning.

All I could say was, "So why were you in that econ lecture?

"Why was I in that econ lecture?" he repeated with a laugh. "Why was I in that lecture? Why was I at that soccer field? Why was I at every single fucking practice you've ever been to?"

His words seemed to have a point, but I didn't understand. Didn't want to understand. My mind drifted across the meanings of his words, refusing to grasp at more than the edges.

"To read," I said stupidly, thought the words didn't sound convincing even to me. "You like to read... at the soccer field."

"Seb, think," he said.

I frowned.

"Use your fucking brain for once," he said. His voice softened to an almost whisper – an almost whisper full of sadness. "Dumb athlete."

"I don't..."

He shook his head, his expression twisting like he was deciding between strangling me and – and – and he grabbed my face, and he kissed me.

I froze. Everything froze. My entire body tensed, and the world faded away. Blood pounded in my ears. I thought for a minute that I should push him away, screw up my face, shout at him – but I didn't. Couldn't.

Instead, I thought about the scruff of his jaw rubbing against mine. The taste of his breath – minty and perfect. His hands, reaching over my shoulders, up my neck and to my hair where he grasped at non-existent curls. His fingers slid through the tufts of hair that were left there before remembering that he'd been the one to cut the strands off. And so his fingers slid back to my neck, his thumb brushing over my throat.

My body came back to life and suddenly I was tilting my head, pushing my lips harder against his mouth, brushing my tongue against his. And his throat made such a godly sound that I was stumbling backwards, my heart hammering against my ribcage.

And I was falling onto the mattress and he was leaning over me, his fingers digging into the mattress beside my hips.

And his knee was moving between my legs and everything was so fast – I pulled away, my chest rising and falling as I stared at him, wide-eyed.

His fingers gripped my shirt collar, and his pupils were blown wide as he stared back at me, watching, waiting for a reaction.

I didn't know how to react.

I didn't know what – I didn't know – I didn't –

His eyes flickered and he cleared his throat, standing up and stepping back, rubbing a hand over his hair.

"I –" my voice cracked.

I stood, blood rushing to my ears. My face felt hot, and I wondered if I was glowing like the stars stuck to my wall.

He looked at me and my heart leapt into my throat and his mouth opened and he was about to speak but I couldn't – I didn't – and I was turning and running and leaving before he could say a word.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

I hope you liked this chapter! Did you see that coming? There's only 3 chapters left so place your bets now for the ending of the story!