Counterfactual

23 | zebra

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

ZEBRA

( — a very unlikely diagnostic possibility. )

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

          ISLA SLEEPS PAST HER ALARM.

          Rowan, on the other hand, wakes up too early considering how many hours of sleep he got during the night, but forces himself to get out of bed and do some last-minute editing on the draft before rushing to mail it to Gabriel. He doesn't worry much about Isla at first, thinking she's just enjoying a few extra minutes under the sheets since it's a rather chilly morning, but, eventually, the alarm on her phone stops ringing and she doesn't leave the bed.

          He hesitates, standing in the doorway. Even though he knows she would never forgive him if he just let her sleep in and miss her classes—he doubts she has ever voluntarily skipped a lecture in her life—seeing her look as peaceful as she does at the moment is a rare occasion. The crease that shows up between her eyebrows whenever she's concerned is currently absent, and she's sleeping on her stomach, arms crossed under the pillow.

          She's so quiet when she sleeps Rowan almost forgets she's right there whenever he wakes up in the middle of the night. They stay on their own sides of the bed, even if there's no pillow barrier separating them. It was the original agreement, even if she was only joking at first, but he won't be the first one to break it.

          Sighing softly to himself, Rowan cautiously makes his way towards the bed and sets a hesitant hand on Isla's back, feeling the calm, rhythmic movements of her chest filling itself with air and exhaling it.

          "Isla," he whispers, gently shaking her, and she groans against the pillow, never opening her eyes. "Isla, hey. You slept past your alarm. You're going to—"

          Isla sits up quicker than he can finish his sentence, nearly punching him in the face as she pushes away the covers and searches for her phone. "What? What time is it? Rowan, where's my phone?" Before things can get any worse, he hands her the device and she gladly accepts it, running her free hand through her hair. "Fifteen minutes. Okay. I can still . . . I can still save my morning. What about you? Have you done anything you need to?"

          "No," he confesses, as she stumbles out of bed and fumbles through one of the drawers of his dresser, the one where she keeps her clothes. "I still need to shower."

          "Me too," she whines. "Do you want to go first? Or should I . . ."

          He vaguely gestures towards the bathroom. "Go ahead."

          He can't leave without her, seeing as she's his ride and all, and it would make zero sense to put on a tantrum, lock himself up in his own bathroom, and tell her she brought it all upon herself for not waking up in time. Even though he could, technically, be stupidly bratty if he wanted to, the panicked look on Isla's face as she gives up on color-coordinating her outfit is almost heart-shattering.

          Her academic career is the most important thing in her life. It's not something he'll ever be able to compete with, even if he wanted to, even if he tried to, even if he decided to be entitled to taking over all her priorities. She's on the verge of tears just by having lost fifteen minutes of her daily routine, even though there's still plenty of time before her first lecture begins, and Rowan's chest tightens.