Nothing Good Gets Away

Chapter 32

HARRY STYLES

In the passenger seat of Rowan's car, I wonder if it's strange that I'm the one driving with her to meet her new boyfriend. I mean, it's the most practical thing, seeing as we live right across from each other, but I just thought I would be the one meeting the two of them somewhere, not the other way around.

And Rowan, well, she's been acting strange over the last week. I asked her if she needed me to watch Scout on Tuesday, and she said she was staying home because she wasn't feeling well. She was all sniffly, but she doesn't sound sick now, which only leads me to believe that she was crying. What for? I don't know. I didn't ask.

"So where are we going again?" I ask.

"Oh," she glances at me like she just remembered that I'm in the car with her. "It's a gourmet burger place. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah, that's fine," I watch her blink out to the road. "Are you okay?"

Her shoulders relax at the question. "Yeah, I'm okay. Are you okay?"

I cock my brows until she looks at me again. "I'm fine, but you don't seem to be so much."

"No, I'm okay," she exhales slowly. "I'm just a little stressed about...the house. I'm worried it'll be really expensive."

"Oh," I nod like that makes sense. "More than you can afford?"

She shakes her head and takes a right at the stoplight. "I'll probably be able to afford it."

"Hm," I leave it at that rather than prying for information on her finances when it's none of my business. If she wanted to tell me, she would. And besides, she's turning into the restaurant before I have a chance to say anything else anyway.

"Okay," she sighs subconsciously to herself as she shuts the car off, and we step out together. Her arms are crossed over her chest in her black t-shirt, paired with her favorite black trousers that fit looser around her legs, and the hem just about skims the concrete over her white sneakers.

I open the door to the restaurant for her, and she politely tells the hostess that we're meeting someone who's already inside when she tries to seat us for just two. Carson stands at a table by the window, dressed in casual business attire. I would feel underdressed if not every other man in the place isn't also wearing a t-shirt like me.

"Hey," he smiles as Rowan lets him peck her lips, then turns to me, extending his hand. "It's nice to see you again, Harry."

"You too," I give him a firm shake before we sit down with the two of them across from me. The seating arrangement alone makes me wish I would have skipped out on the whole thing.

"Sorry, were you waiting for a long time?" She asks.

"Not at all," he casually drapes his arm over the back of her chair, and my brain goes into overdrive as I wonder if he's trying to mark his territory.

"That's good," Rowan smiles before she looks down at her menu, so Carson and I do the same. It only takes us a minute to decide, but Rowan is still staring at hers when we look up from ours.

"So, Rowan told me that you're a tattoo artist," he starts.

"I am, yeah," I cross my arms over the table. "I work at a shop on Sunset."

"That's cool," he nods, and he seems to mean that. "How do you like it?"

"The shop? Or the job?"

He shrugs. "Both."

"I love both," I glance at Rowan as she finally looks up from her menu and starts to stack them all at the edge of the table. "It's different from my last shop in a few ways, but it really grew on me."