Evaline:
I didn’t get scolded.
Just like River’s driver had promised, no one from the faculty stopped me when I stepped past the gates of the Academy - nearly an hour past curfew. But that didn’t mean I escaped notice.
The few faculty members and night duty warriors, who were still out and about, didn’t say a word as I walked past, but their eyes lingered, darting toward the slit on the side of my long navy-blue dress, the sparkling shoes heels, the expensive jewelry still clinging to my neck and wrists, and the messy waves of my silver hair.
The moment I stepped into the dorm building, I silently prayed not to run into anyone I knew. Thankfully, the corridors were quiet, and the lighting was dim enough to keep my flushed cheeks hidden.
I slipped through the door to my dorm room like a whisper and made my way into my bedroom, letting out a sigh of relief as I locked the door behind me.
"Wow," came a familiar voice from the room as the bedside table lamp was switched on in a similar manner from the previous night. "And here I thought I was the only one who made midnight returns."
I nearly jumped.
Rowan was sitting on his bed with his legs stretched, wearing one of his oversized hoodies, and holding a half-eaten protein bar. His gaze fell on me, and for a second, his expression froze.
"Damn," he muttered as his eyes scanned my appearance. "You look like you just stepped off a runway. What - did Alpha River drag you to a werewolf fashion show?"
I groaned and tossed my bag near the wardrobe before collapsing onto the bed face-first. "Worse," I mumbled into the blanket. "A business dinner. And humans drink a lot."
He chuckled, walking over to perch at the edge of my bed. "So you finally caved and picked up my habit of staying out late, huh?"
I turned my head enough to glare at him. "Only because I had to."
"Sure," he said, the grin on his face not faltering. "I believe you. But just so you know, no matter how pretty you look, you can’t sleep in that dress. It looks like it costs more than the entire dormitory."
"I’m too tired to move."
"Too bad." He knelt down and began undoing the straps of my heels. "You are getting changed before you ruin this thing."
"You are so bossy when I’m exhausted," I groaned.
"That’s because you get dramatic when you are tired. Come on, show me where you keep your pajamas. I’ll grab them and get out."
"Second drawer," I said, waving a lazy hand toward the wardrobe.
He walked over and pulled out a comfy set of pajamas before handing them to me.
"Thanks, Rowan."
He was already halfway to the door. "Anytime. Oh... do you even have makeup remover?"
I blinked. "Why would I?"
He paused. "Because you have makeup on."
"I don’t use makeup. Just gloss. The stylist did it all."
He sighed dramatically. "Of course."
The door closed behind him, and I slowly peeled myself out of the elegant and expensive prison I had been dressed in. The dress dropped to the floor like spilled ink. I didn’t even bother hanging it up. I just slipped into the soft cotton of my sleepwear, threw my hair into a lazy bun, and fell backward on the bed with a relieved groan.
Sleep. That’s all I want.
My eyes had just fluttered shut when a soft knock came from the door.
"Come in," I mumbled.
The door opened, and Rowan stepped inside, holding a bottle and some pads. "Got this from Mallory. She’s got a whole drawer full of makeup stuff."
He sat beside me again, setting the items on the nightstand. "You okay with me helping?"
Too tired to care, I gave a small nod. "Just don’t poke my eyes."
He grinned. "No promises."
His hands were surprisingly gentle as he wiped the layers of foundation and shimmer away. Each sweep of the remover pad was soothing, like being tucked into warmth.
"It’s bad to sleep with makeup on," he said, brushing a pad under my jawline. "Clogs your pores."
"Noted."
When he tilted my chin up to swipe across my forehead, I flinched, and his hand froze. "What was that?"
"Nothing," I said before adding a lie, "Just hit a wall."
"You hit a-? Eva. Seriously?"
I forced a smile. "I’m clumsy, remember?"
His eyes searched mine, and I was able to see he didn’t believe a word. But to his credit, he didn’t push me. He nodded slowly and cleaned the rest of my makeup, being extra gentle with my forehead.
Then, he reached over to the drawer and pulled out the little medical kit I had put there.
"You got this for me, didn’t you?" he asked, unscrewing a jar of balm.
"Yes. You are always getting injured mysteriously."
"Well, I’m glad you did. Because now I get to use it on you."
He dabbed his fingers into the balm, then began applying it carefully on my forehead. The touch was cool, tingling slightly, but gentle. It hurt, yes, but nothing compared to how it hurt when I received it.
"You are really good at this," I whispered.
He smirked. "I know. I practice on myself a lot."
"Of course you do."
When he finished, he placed the balm back in the kit and picked up the gown, folding and placing it aside.
"You need rest," he said, tucking the blanket over my shoulder before switching off the light.
"You, too," I murmured, eyes already closing. "Thanks, Rowan."
"For what?"
I let out a sleepy breath. "For always being here."
He didn’t respond right away. But I felt his hand giving the top of my head a soft, gentle pat.
"You are such a nice, little kiddo. I like looking after you." He finally spoke.
I wanted to argue about him calling me ’little’ and ’kiddo’ in the same sentence, but I was too tired. Maybe another time?