Fake dating the captain

Chapter 11

~Liv~

I was still busy day dreaming about being his real girlfriend when he sneezed like a cow^^. I had one foot tucked under my ass, the sleeve of Rowan’s hoodie pulled all the way over my hand because it smelled like him and I was pathetic enough to keep sniffing it when he wasn’t looking. The movie was some Marvel bullshit neither of us cared about. He kept stealing my crusts, I kept pretending to be annoyed, and everything felt almost normal for like five whole minutes.

His phone buzzed on the armrest. He ignored it. Mine buzzed in my lap.

I flipped it over without thinking.

One new photo. No name saved, just a number I didn't recognize p.

Little orange bottle. White cap. My full name on the label in that tiny black font. Sitting on the ugly brown nightstand. The one I stared at while he f****d me from behind and told me I was pretty when I cried.

Under the picture: Door’s unlocked if you need.

My lungs just quit. The room did that fun little tilt thing it does right before you puke. My hands started shaking so hard the phone slipped and smacked the floor, screen still glowing up at me like a f*****g lighthouse for trainwrecks.

Rowan’s head snapped around from the kitchen. “You break another screen, I’m not spot-funding your dumb ass.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My legs were already moving, sliding off the couch, bare feet hitting cold hardwood, heading for the door like someone else was driving.

“Hey….whoa…Liv!” His voice went from zero to panic in half a second. Beer bottles clinked, one hit the tile and exploded, but he was already vaulting the counter. “Liv, stop!”

I made it to the door, fingers fumbling the deadbolt, hoodie sleeves flopping past my hands like i***t mittens. The chain was still on. Thank God for small mercies or I’d already be gone.

Rowan slammed into me from behind, chest to my back, one arm hooking around my waist, the other slapping the door shut above my head. “No. Nope. Not happening.”

I thrashed like a feral cat. “Let me go.”

“f**k off with that.” His voice cracked on the last word. Actually cracked. “You’re not leaving. Not like this.”

I elbowed him in the ribs.,hard. He grunted but didn’t budge. “Rowan, move!”

“Make me.”

I tried. I really did. Kicked backward, heel catching his shin. He just locked his arm tighter, dragging me back a step.

“Jesus, stop…..Liv, stop it!” He spun me around so fast my head rattled and pinned my shoulders to the door. His face was six inches from mine, eyes wild. “What the hell is wrong with you right now?”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t talk. My mouth opened, nothing came out except this pathetic squeak.

He looked down…saw the phone on the floor, screen still lit. The photo right there for the whole world to see.

His whole body went stiff. “Is that…”

“Don’t.” My voice came out shredded. “Just…..don’t.”

He stared at the picture another second, then at me, then back at the picture like he needed to double-check he wasn’t hallucinating. The muscle in his jaw started jumping.

“That fucker texted you?” Quiet. Way too quiet.

I laughed. It sounded like a dying goose. “Yeah, well, he’s thoughtful like that.”

Rowan let go of my shoulders, bent down, snatched the phone. I lunged for it. “Give it…..”

He held it over his head like we were twelve. “Door’s unlocked if you need,” he read out loud, voice flat. “He’s really going for romantic comedy of the year, huh?”

“Rowan….”

“He’s got your pills.” Still flat. Scary flat. “The ones you flushed. The ones you cried about for three days straight.”

I wrapped my arms around myself because I was shaking so hard my teeth clicked. “I flushed the refill. That’s… that’s the old bottle. He kept it. Like a f*****g trophy.”

Rowan’s eyes closed for a second. When they opened again they weren’t his anymore. They were black and empty and terrifying.

He started typing.

My heart stopped. “What are you doing?”

“Replying.”

“No….no, don’t…” I jumped for the phone, climbed him like a tree, nails scratching his arm. He switched hands, kept typing with his thumb.

“Rowan, give it!” I was crying now, snot and everything, hanging off his forearm. “Please, please don’t.”

He finished, hit send, then tossed the phone onto the couch like it burned him. “Done.”

“What did you send?” My voice was a whisper.

He looked down at me, still pinned between him and the door, and smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.

“Sent him the middle-finger emoji and then ‘Come get your own pills, you walking STD.’ Blocked him right after. Romantic, right?”

I stared at him.

Rowan crouched in front of me, hands on his knees. “You good?”

“No,” I wheezed, wiping my face on the hoodie sleeve. “You said I wasn't your real girlfriend, so what's your f*****g problem? Why's this even an issue, let me go.” then I saw him laughing.

“What's funny?”

“You’re just a little funny.”

“f**k you.”

“Later. First you’re drinking water and sitting your chaotic ass down.” He grabbed my wrists, pulled me up like I weighed nothing, and marched me back to the couch. I flopped. He disappeared, came back with a glass of water and the entire roll of paper towels.

I chugged the water. He watched me like I might bolt again.

“I wasn’t gonna take them,” I muttered.

“Bullshit.”

“Rowan lemme the f**k alone! I'm not your real girlfriend, understand??”

“No.” He sat next to me, close enough our knees knocked. “I’m f*****g furious.”

I flinched.

“Not at you, idiot.” He rubbed both hands over his face while I continued t

alking. “I’m mad at me, I'm mad I didn’t break his legs and I'm mad I still think about him and want him. ”