Counterfactual

05 | crepuscular

CHAPTER FIVE

CREPUSCULAR

( — of, relating to, or resembling twilight; dim; indistinct. )

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          NOT TO BE DRAMATIC, BUT ROWAN'S LEG FEELS ABOUT TO FALL OFF. Baseball bats hurt, even when they're not wrapped in barbed wire—a trend Rowan is really, really sick of—and all he can do is whimper on the floor, surrounded by college students snickering at him. Baseball Dude finds it all tremendously amusing, it seems.

          If his leg has to be amputated, he'll sue this entire place—not just Gabriel, not just Isla, and certainly not just Baseball Dude. Timothy Underwood is a lawyer and a pretty darn good one, for that matter, and Rowan knows he'd be able to win any case under the sun with his father by his side. He doesn't want to depend on the guy too much, as he's used to doing his own thing—and often giving up in the process, but he has had enough of having people throw that to his face—but, if that's what this comes down to, Rowan will be forced to take drastic measures to protect himself and his dignity.

          The guy's eyes are almost blinding and Rowan can't tell their exact shade, if they're green or blue, but he shakes it off when the jolts of pain in his leg return, electricity shooting up his nerves and devouring his muscles.

          God, he really is going to lose his leg, isn't he?

          Before things can get even worse, Rowan decides to take matters into his own hands and swings his healthy leg in an arch when the guy steps forward, and it is with great pleasure that he sees Baseball Dude fall flat on his face in front of him, with the baseball bat sliding across the floor. In a sick, twisted way, Rowan wishes he could have hurt him a bit more, with his calf screaming in pain, but there are certain lines he doesn't cross. Nearly incapacitating people is one of them.

          Too bad the same can't be said about his opponent, who's nothing more than a filthy coward. If anything bad has happened to his laptop with the impact of his backpack against the linoleum floors, Rowan will surely throw some punches . . . and risk getting kicked out of Crowcrest and losing his job.

          He's the coolest person he knows. That's not a title he's willing to give up, period, even if it technically doesn't have that much importance in the real world. It's important enough in the world that lives inside his head, maintaining his stability, and, if we're being honest, it's often what keeps him going during his everyday life. That feeling of being better than all of them at something, no matter how minuscule or insignificant it is, is what doesn't drain him dry of hope.

          Perhaps that counts for something. Perhaps it doesn't and he's simply playing himself.

          "You could have broken my teeth," Baseball Dude hisses, and, for a fleeting moment, Rowan is able to picture it. It's hilarious, in a dark way, and he chuckles at the thought, with the guy's eyes—they're green, now that they're closer to each other—turning into wildfires. "How dare you—"

          "Excuse me?" Rowan's voice is an octave higher than usual and, if people weren't staring at them before, they certainly are now, as Rowan never learned how to be subtle. If you're going to do something, you might as well give it your all. "Who the hell walks around with a baseball bat, slamming it against random people's legs? You could have broken my leg! I might have to amputate it!"

          "Don't be so dramatic," Isla scolds, popping up out of thin air, startling them both. She's wearing heels today, adding, at least, three inches to her height, but she's still smaller than most people in the cafeteria, which doesn't entirely surprise Rowan. What surprises him the most is seeing her come back to see what's going on, as he thought she was the type of person to stay away from drama. "God, Chase, what the hell?"