Rowan could feel the storm in his chest every time he crossed paths with Greyson. The boy was like a shadow he couldn't escape, always lurking just out of reach, just close enough to remind Rowan that he didn't belong.
The days after their confrontation by the oak tree passed uneventfully—at least for Greyson. For Rowan, the memory of their exchange lingered. His irritation at Greyson's smug attitude warred with an unwelcome curiosity. Why had Greyson sat down next to him? Why did he always seem to seek Rowan out?
One afternoon, as Rowan sat sketching in the library, the sound of a chair scraping pulled his attention. He glanced up, already knowing who it would be.
"You're following me," Rowan said flatly, his pencil poised above the page.
Greyson smirked, leaning back in the chair he'd dragged across from Rowan. "You think I have nothing better to do than follow you around?"
Rowan sighed, looking back at his notebook. "Clearly, you don't."
Greyson chuckled, a sound that sent an unwelcome warmth through Rowan's chest. "What are you drawing?"
Rowan tilted the notebook slightly, showing Greyson the half-finished sketch of a twisting, shadowy forest.
Greyson studied it, his expression thoughtful for once. "You're good at this."
The compliment caught Rowan off guard. He glanced at Greyson, searching for a hint of sarcasm, but there was none. "Thanks," he said quietly.
For a moment, there was a strange peace between them, the usual tension replaced by something Rowan couldn't name. But then Greyson leaned forward, that familiar smirk returning. "So, is this where you plan your escape from me?"
Rowan rolled his eyes and snapped the notebook shut. "You're impossible."
"True," Greyson said, standing. "But admit it—you'd miss me if I stopped bothering you."
Rowan didn't respond, refusing to give Greyson the satisfaction.
---
The next morning, Rowan found himself cornered by Lila and Theo outside the art room.
"So," Lila said, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "are you and Greyson friends now? Or is he just pitying you?"
Rowan's jaw clenched, but he kept his head down, his fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. He refused to give them the reaction they wanted.
Lila laughed, turning to Theo. "I bet Greyson's just bored. He'll drop him soon enough."
Their laughter followed Rowan down the hall, but he didn't let it show on his face. Inside, though, the storm churned, and the pencil in his hand snapped under the pressure of his grip.
---
Later that day, Rowan was walking home with Violet when he spotted Greyson leaning against the low stone wall near the village square.
"You've been following me again," Rowan muttered as they approached.
Greyson shrugged, his easy smile in place. "I was bored."
Rowan rolled his eyes, but Violet tugged on his sleeve, whispering, "Who's that?"
"No one," Rowan said quickly, his ears burning.
Greyson chuckled, his gaze shifting to Violet. "Who's this?"
Rowan hesitated, then sighed. "This is Violet. My sister."
Violet beamed up at Greyson, clearly unimpressed by Rowan's tension. "You're Greyson, aren't you? Rowan complains about you all the time."
Rowan groaned, covering his face with his hands. Greyson laughed, the sound surprisingly warm. "Does he now? What does he say?"
"That you're annoying," Violet said matter-of-factly.
Rowan tugged her away, muttering, "We're leaving now."
Greyson called after them, "See you tomorrow, Lancaster!"
Violet giggled as they walked away. "He's nice. Why don't you like him?"
Rowan didn't answer.