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07 | phantasmagoric

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CHAPTER SEVEN

PHANTASMAGORIC

( — having a fantastic or deceptive appearance, as something in a dream or created by the imagination. )

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          IT'S BEEN A LONG WHILE SINCE THE LAST TIME ROWAN FOUND HIMSELF THIS BUSY. Between writing the book, doing his research on the lore of Vofield, avoiding conversations with his parents, avoiding any possible interaction with Isla, and pretending to not remember Jasper St. Claire has ever existed or been part of his life, he has barely had a spare moment to breathe. He can always find some free time to smoke on his fire escape because of his well-defined priorities, though.

         He spends plenty of time at the diner, having grown fond of their food and the staff, especially Brooklyn, even though he doesn't see her nearly as often as he did back when he first got here. They all work in shifts, obviously, but hers rarely seem to match the time and day he stops by to have lunch or dinner. Though he doesn't want to think absolutely everything in the world revolves around him, part of him enjoys reminding the rest of his brain she's seemingly friends with Isla, who might have mentioned something about him.

         That almost makes it sound like all women ever talk about is men, which clearly isn't true, but Rowan doesn't want to sound paranoid. Conceited, maybe, but not paranoid—paranoid and desperate are synonyms in his dictionary and being or sounding desperate is something he plain and simply refuses to be or do. It's not in his blood and he certainly won't force it to become a reality.

         It turns out Micah isn't that unbearable to hang out with when Rowan is forced to be at Crowcrest. Even if they only see each other during the breaks between Micah's lectures and at lunchtime—when Rowan decides he wants to bless the cafeteria with his presence, that is—Rowan has found they get along just fine when no one is sticking their nose in the middle of each other's business, which is something Rowan will never not appreciate.

          Muse is still there. Not always, fortunately, but, when she is, the air instantly grows colder. She simply stays there, either at Micah's table or anywhere else, not opening her mouth to speak to anyone, and she only talks to Rowan when no one else is around, arguing he feels different from the rest of them.

          Now, he can pinpoint several reasons why he's different from the rest of the people sitting in that cafeteria or in the library—he's older than them, he has absolutely no patience for trust fund babies and their dramas, and he simply doesn't care enough about any of them to be worried about establishing a meaningful relationship. They're all in the same place due to a coincidence and to certain circumstances that have brought them together, but everyone knows they wouldn't give one another the time of day if Rowan wasn't working here. If he was younger—or if they were older, really, as it goes both ways—they wouldn't utter a word.

          It doesn't bother him in the slightest. Really, it doesn't.

         Gabriel checks on him from time to time, mostly to ensure he's been doing a good job and matching his expectations of him, and almost always comments on how quiet he is and how it seems so unlike him. Rowan has to bite his tongue to remind the man he doesn't know a single thing about him other than his job and his hometown—not even his star sign or favorite color—knowing exactly that would get him fired in no time because there are people you can't talk back to.

          Nevertheless, he, too, has felt a shift in the atmosphere in Vofield. Things aren't exactly the same as they were on his first day here, which would be normal if he knew precisely what has changed since that day. The fog is still here, with the weather growing progressively colder, and Rowan doesn't know if that's the only reason why everyone always looks so . . . grim. Granted, he's not one to talk, as he has noticed he's almost constantly sporting a scowl, but it's not his job to be amicable.

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