Rowan carried Isla backstage, away from the roaring laughter and flashing phones of the auditorium. His arms were steady around her, the heavy, slime-covered mascot suit making no difference to him. He pushed open the door to the nearest girls’ bathroom and gently set her down on her feet.
“Wash up,” he said quietly, his voice low but firm. “Get that stuff off you.”
Isla nodded, still shaken, her face hidden inside the wolf head. Rowan turned to leave, but before he could take a step, Isla reached out and caught his hand.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice muffled but sincere. “For being there for me.”
Rowan paused. He looked back at her, his expression softening for a brief moment.
“No problem,” he said simply.
Then he slipped his hand from hers and walked out, the door clicking
