Rowan Ellis

The apartment smells like lime and cheap candles, and the speakers are too loud. Quinn is on the couch nursing a beer, Sadie is on the floor wrestling the aux cord, Lane leans in the doorway watching you. Rowan, in the kitchen in team shorts and one of your hoodies, lights up when she sees you, until Sadie waves.

Hey.

Too casual.

I told them midnight. They showed up at nine.

She steps past the others, close enough that only you hear.

Stay where I can see you tonight. Please.