Chapter 68 Rowan, Oh Rowan
Malia's POV
...The sincerity that I hear in his voice makes my heart clenches. He’s not out to prove anything, or get in a race with his brothers. He just really wants to help, to be there for me in any way I need him.
"Okay," I agree softly. "Thank you."
His hand holds mine and his lips brush over my knuckles—a movement so affectionate and old-school it thwarts my breath away.
“Anything for you,” he murmurs, against my skin, then pulls his hand away with a little smile. “Now we have to talk about the Council of Elders and the territorial arbitrations…”
We are still reviewing, but now my mind wanders it is more difficult to focus. There’s something in the afternoon light coming through the window, the quiet privacy of working side by side, the way
Rowan looks when he’s really trying to help me.
I find myself looking at him as he reads a passage aloud from the textbook. Taking a real, long look at him, noticing things I haven’t bothered to look at because I was too panicked or preoccupied.
How his dark lashes shade his cheekbones. The strong line of his jaw. The curve of his mouth when he speaks. The way his hair falls over his forehead when he leans in.
He’s beautiful, sorry handsome. Not like the sharp, commanding Aiden is, or the quiet and intense Cian is. Rowan’s beauty is so much softer, so much more inviting. Like sunlight instead of starlight.
My mind wanders off to the greenhouse, and the fairy lights and dancing and the kiss that altered everything. The sensation of his hands on my waist, the taste of his lips, the longing gentleness of every contact.
Adrenaline pumps through my body and I have to look away before he can tell. But when I turn back, he’s still reading, fully engrossed in the passage.
Why, I'm sure he either hasn't realized I'm gawking or he's just being polite and pretending not to! "...which gave rise to the precedent for neutral territory during peace negotiations," then he look up at me, waiting. "Does that make sense?"
“Yeah," I manage as I hope my voice sounds regular under the circumstance. "Make total sense."
He smiles, satisfied, and returns to the book. I try to pay attention to the actual material he's teaching, but I'm too aware of everything right now. The bond humming quietly between us. The warmth of the afternoon sun. The way his voice seems to flow over the complex historical concepts and turns them into something that sounds almost poetic.
"You know," he says suddenly, looking up from the book, "I really like this."
"What? Studying pack history?"
"No." His smile is soft, genuine. "This. Just being with you. No drama, no competition with my brothers, no pressure about the bond. We’re just chatting, laughing and hanging out."
My throat tightens with emotion. "I like it too."
"Good." He reaches across the table once more, but this time he merely places his palm upward, a request not a demand. “Because I want more of this, Malia. No matter what happens with the bond, with Aiden and Cian — I want days like this. Simple times when we’re just ... us.”
I slip my hand into his, and immediately feel the comfortable heat of his touch, the way the bond seems to settle when we’re hooked up like this.
“Me too,” I say softly.
So we sit like that for a minute, two hands clasped across the table, simply gazing at one another. There’s no rush, no frantic need to claim or possess. Just quiet affection and the promise of more moments like this.
The library door on our floor flies open, interrupting the private moment.
“There you are!” July’s voice pierces through, her completely ignoring the quiet library setting and a harsh 'shhhhhhhhh!’ went out in the air
She lowers her voice. “We’ve been searching the whole place for you!”
Freddy appears behind her, looking flustered. “I told her to see the third floor first, but no, she had to look through every floor in straight—”
“Details,” July dismisses him, then notices our connected hands and smiles knowingly. “Oh. Were we interrupting something?”
“Just studying,” I say quickly, though I don’t let go of Rowan’s hand.
“Right. Studying.” As she and Freddy come over to the table, July grins even wider. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
Rowan laughs, the warm, unconcerned sound. “How was your exam?”
“Brutal,” says Freddy, slouching back in a chair. “I'm pretty sure I blew at least three sections. Maybe four. All of them, probably.”
“You didn't fail,” July says, although she doesn’t sound entirely convinced. “You probably just… got creative with your answers.”
“I wrote a whole essay on a question I’m ninety percent sure wasn’t even on the exam,” Freddy confesses. “But it was a very good essay. It was very well structured. Shame it was totally irrelevant.”
I laugh and then we're all laughing now we're laughing at each other—our final exam stress and drama momentarily forgotten in the simple pleasure of hanging with homies.
“What about you?” Rowan asks July.
“How’d yours turn out?”
“Better than Freddy’s, which isn’t saying much.” She pulls up her phone and shows us a meme about exam stress that has us all laughing even more.
That’s when the conversation becomes natural. We share nightmare questions, argue answers we’re unsure of, plan what we’re doing when midterms are over.
Rowan holds my hand the entire time, his thumb brushing slightly over my knuckles in a motion I’m beginning to find reassuring. The connection hums contentedly between us and I realize this is what I’ve been missing all week this lightness, this feeling of just being young and happy with people who care about me.
“We should do something fun when exams are over,” July tells me. “Like something totally frivolous and not-stressful.”
“Like what?” I ask.
"I don't know. Movie marathon? Road trip? Ritualistic burning of all of our notes?"
"I vote for the burning," Freddy says immediately. "Very cathartic."
"Could be a fire hazard though," Rowan says, grinning.
"Worth it," Freddy insists.
We spend another hour at the library table, pretending to study but mostly just having fun with each other.
This, friendship, laughter, Rowan’s hand in mine — is what makes everything else bearable.
When we finally pack up to leave, Rowan insists on walking me back to the suite.
“Thank you,” I say to him as we reach the door. “For today. For making me laugh. For helping me study. For just... being you.”
His smile is radiant. "Anytime, Malia. Seriously. Whenever you need me, I'm here."
He leans down and kisses my forehead, gentle and sweet.
Maybe we can make this work. All of us, together.
Maybe days like today, ordinary and happy, and stuffed with tiny moments are proof that after all is said and done, we’re going to be okay.
Well…
My life in Mooncrest College is tough, no doubt but having a Moonfall brother around is a blessing