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writtenonreceipts · 8 months

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Rowaelin Month Day Five: A Bad Date @rowaelinscourt

Link to my Rowaelin Month Masterlist

~3K words—welcome to cliché hell. Enjoy your stay.

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The Words We Share--Part One

Sam Cortland was the absolute definition of asshole and Aelin Galathynius could make her point in three simple facts. He didn’t tip well. He spoke for her. And he consistently forgot when they had dinner plans.

Which was how Aelin found herself sitting at a table alone at one of the nicest restaurants in the city trying not to look at the final roll sitting in the bread basket. She’d already scarfed down the other three, she really shouldn’t eat the third. Especially not now as she could catch the looks her waitress and others were passing her way. She’d at least only gone through one glass of wine and was nursing a water.

Aelin would have owned up to the idea of eating alone, she was a confident woman--she didn’t need anyone’s validation. By now, it was too late. Nearly an hour had passed since she’d been seated and she’d told her waitress she was waiting for someone else. That combined with the fact that she look sexy as hell with a tight green dress, her hair perfectly curled and her make up sharper and neater than any awards show actress.

She’d have to live up to the fact that she’d been stood up.

Hell.

She wished she could say this was the first time Sam had done this. Wished she could say that he would make it up to her later. Wished she could say that it didn’t really bother her.

Aelin glanced at her phone. One missed text but that was from Elide.

>>Elide: anything?

<<Aelin: no. I texted him twice. It’s been forty-five mins. I’ve well and good passed the pathetic mark.

>>Elide: ur not pathetic. Imma report his insta for porn hold on

Aelin rolled her eyes at the message. Elide had been her friend since college when they were first paired together on a project. It had turned into a mess of over caffeination and potential misuse of school property but they’d been inseparable ever since. It was Elide who had helped Aelin get the job she had now with Terrasen Publishing as a content creator. She had a full social media platform where she could share books, reviews and all the likes. She even hosted the company's podcast on a bi-weekly basis.

As far as Aelin was concerned, she was successful. She was capable. She was well on her way to reaching so many of her goals.

Sam, it seemed, couldn’t care less about her.

This was supposed to be a dinner to celebrate her promotion. Dorian, the actual CEO of the company had allowed her to open her own department as Lead Content Creator. She’d be her own manager, get a pay-raise, have more liberties with what she could do, get an office credit card, hell she’d be able to hire her own assistant. She’d told Sam she wanted to celebrate by coming here to her favorite restaurant no matter how expensive it was. She’d worked so hard to get here after all.

And how here she was—alone.

She knew Sam was busy, he was a lawyer after all, but after nearly eight months of dropping everything for him, she’d thought he would give her just one night. One night for her.

Aelin felt tears begin to prick that back of her eyes and had never been more grateful for the dim lighting of this restaurant. Hopefully no one would see the silver lining her eyes, the growing flush of embarrassment to her skin.

It was made all the worse when Aelin noticed a familiar person walking towards her. Someone she wanted to see even less than she wanted to admit that Sam was standing her up.

Hell.

Kaltain Rompier had been hired after Aelin by a few months and ever since decided she was the one who should be in charge of everything in the office. To the point of undermining and condescending everything Aelin did. In the end, Aelin was the one with the promotion and the office but Kaltain still made her life a living hell any chance she got.

“Aelin,” Kaltain crooned as she came to the table. And it wasn’t even to give a brief pass by, no, Kaltain had a look of feral delight gleaming in her black eyes and Aelin could feel the attack coming. “What a surprise to see you here.”

Behind Kaltain was her date, a man Aelin had never seen before and average enough looking. He didn’t seem to be even paying attention to the drama Kaltain was eager to whip out.

“Kaltain.” Aelin offered one of her own beaming smiles in return. Despite the tension radiating through her body, she was determined to be civil. She would not stoop to the other woman’s level. She would not stoop.

Kaltain didn’t bother waiting for the kill. “All alone tonight?”

Her full red lips pouted sympathetically, but Aelin had spent enough time around the woman to know how much delight she was taking in Aelin’s potential misery and embarrassment.

She could lie—her date was in the bathroom. She could own up to eating alone. On a Friday night. At the hottest restaurant in Terrasen. She could use Aedion as a scapegoat and have him come by the office on Monday and make a big show of—

“Sorry I’m late,” a deep, accented voice cut through Aelin’s wall panic as a giant, stupidly attractive man slid between Kaltain and Aelin’s table. “Traffic was impossible tonight.”

Aelin stared up slack jawed at her savior.

Rowan Whitethorn in all his glory stood before her. His silver hair was coiffed back out of his face, chin riddled with stubble, and a black suit that fit his broad frame perfectly. His green eyes gave her a significant look, one brow raised meaningfully.

Aelin pulled herself together and let out a relaxed, charmed laugh. At least she hoped that’s what it sounded liked because this was Rowan Whitethorn. The company’s biggest author. One of the most sought-after writers at conventions who had multiple Hollywood deals piling at his feet.

He was also the biggest ass Aelin had ever worked with.

“Let’s hope you're not this late for your next deadline,” she said, voice light and easy. Or as close to it as possible. But Aelin could see a muscle tick in Rowan’s jaw and watched as a smirk drew across his face. Savior of the night or not, she wanted to punch him.

“Of course not, sweetheart,” Rowan drawled, his thick Scottish accent low and hard. “We know how punctual you are.”

“It’s a good quality to have,” she said. She narrowed her eyes to which Rowan grinned. He was insufferable. An ass. Arrogant. And—

Rowan flicked a lazy look at Kaltain. “Was there something you needed Kaltain?”

The dismissal was clear and left no room for argument. It was such a fascinating sight to see Kaltain at a loss for words that Aelin forgot her disdain for Rowan. Kaltain had always been a busy body around the office, always gossiping and looking for a way to undermine everyone else as long as she came out on top.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Aelin,” Kaltain said, her cold eyes cutting into Aelin. And with that, she turned away with her date.

It was far too satisfying watching them go. Even Aelin had to admit that. Though, she’d be damned if she admitted so to Rowan.

She finally, reluctantly, turned her attention to him.

He leaned in his chair looking utterly at ease with himself and the situation. With his features as stoney and impossible to read as ever it would appear the last five minutes hadn’t even occurred. But Aelin could see the subtle gleam in his eyes. Sharp and calculating like a hawk.

She’d had five years to get to know him, he was Terrasen’s biggest client and she’d been the one to personally promote his first book on her review blog, not to mention act as a beta reader for early drafts of his work.

He was talented. Remarkable even. She’d never seen anyone wield a metaphor or create an image as he could. It was a shame they hated each other.

It had started innocently enough. In her critiques early on, Aelin hadn’t held back. She’d given the early drafts of his manuscript’s hell. She wouldn’t apologize for it. Wouldn’t he want his book to be the best it could? To have enough feedback to work with and accept or decline? Hell, he didn’t even have to take most of her opinions if he didn’t want to, but she was on the team of readers.

Well, he hadn’t taken well to most of her words and Aelin found a giant box of red pens waiting on her desk one morning from him.

Seems like you ran out last week.

Asshole.

She didn’t hold back though. Not at all.

Between overly marked up pages, passive aggressive notes, and blissful ignorance—they’d never known harmony in all their time of working together. The closest they’d gotten was in the last seven months while Rowan was finishing up a new manuscript and had avoided the office all together.

Aelin could hardly admit it to herself, but it had been a strange few months. She’d found herself looking up to catch a glimpse of him in the hallway in all that time. She hated herself just a little for it.

“What do you want, Whitethorn?” she asked, she did her best not to glare, knowing their table was in direct line of sight of where Kaltain was now sitting.

Rowan raised a brow as he leaned forward and took Aelin’s wine glass. He took a long sip, never breaking eye contact.

“That’s the thanks I get?” he asked, accent a low rumble that Aelin could feel straight in her belly. “By my accounts, I saved you from a rather embarrassing conversation.”

Aelin raised her chin. “Kaltain is harmless.”

Rowan only grinned. “Oh, aye?”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Aelin insisted.

“She’s never been an easy person and I doubt my time away has changed anything,” Rowan said. He spoke with such sincerity that Aelin could only stare at him.

In her silence, the waitress came back by their table with a new glass of wine for Rowan. The bastard then went ahead and ordered for her.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“We’re on a date, are we not?” he asked.

“Not.” She stared at him; his eyes sharp even in the low lights of the restaurant. His tattoos peaked out beneath the collar of his shirt. She’d never seen them in their full glory and now really wished she could see just a little bit more.

“Shame,” Rowan sighed. He glanced idly into the bread basket and took the one remaining roll for himself. “I really was going to pay.”

Aelin sighed and leaned back in her chair. As she looked at him, she tried to understand what he was trying to accomplish with this. He’d chased off Kaltain and saved her from feeling like a fool…but why?

They’d always played a game like this--one of touch and go, of give and take, of hate and hate some more.

She decided to try and approach this from another direction.

“What are you even doing here?” she asked, fingering the stem of her own wine glass.

That grin of his returned, a flash, but impossible to miss. Aelin tried to reel herself in. She couldn’t let him rile her up like this.

“Was out with some friends.” He nodded to the bar behind her.

Aelin turned in her seat, catching sight of two other men, one with curly blond hair and the other with a cut of shaggy black hair. The blond gave her an enthusiastic wave when he saw her looking. Aelin scowled.

“We were celebrating my finishing another book and getting Havilliards seal of approval,” Rowan explained, drawing Aelin’s attention back. “And I saw you sitting by yourself when Kaltain showed up. I know the two of you don’t really get along.”

And how long did you wait before stepping in? She wanted to ask. But she knew she wouldn’t want the answer. He’d probably been there since the beginning watching as she slowly spun into madness.

She glanced at her phone but didn’t touch it. It hadn’t lit up or vibrated or given any indication that anyone was worried about her. She tried to not let it sting. A full hour at this point. Maybe she should break it off with Sam. Officially this time.

“I figured you’d rip my head off if I came over sooner,” Rowan continued, his voice softening just a touch. “Figured it was none of my business.”

Aelin didn’t need his pity, didn’t want it either. “Yeah, well it’s not.”

He didn’t get the chance to respond as the waitress returned with their food. A steak for Rowan, salmon for Aelin. Exactly what she would have wanted for herself, even with the side of risotto.

Her stomach growled just loud enough that Rowan definitely heard. She grabbed her fork and started eating. Angrily.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Aelin pointed her fork at him.

“New book have a title?” she asked.

“Why would you care?”

“So I can figure out all the puns to call it on my podcast,” she said.

Rowan smirked. “I’m on your podcast now?”

“You? No. Your book? Sure.” She took another bite of salmon and sighed. “It’s more fun that way.”

“Right,” he said. “‘Course.”

She watched him as he cut his steak, medium rare, and dredged it in a bit of peppercorn sauce. He wasn’t at all uncomfortable with the act they found themselves in. Not at all concerned over the fact that his friends were leaving (Aelin couldn’t help but check). He was focused on her.

She didn’t know how she felt about that.

“So, the book?”

He paused before shrugging just barely. “Nothing special. Ancient weaponry and the likes. You’ll hate it.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. Rowan had written several historical nonfiction novels surrounded with ancient lore, weaponry, and conspiracies. It all seemed interesting when you thought about it--but Aelin loved the fantasy. She loved the whimsy. The strange. And while Rowan's books were well written and captivating, they never quite captured her.

“Are you finally going to write a book about kilts? You said you would.” She couldn’t help but smile at that. His first book had been a look into early Scottish history, connecting the Old Language and how it shaped fairy tales and other shared stories. She told him it needed more kilts; he’d told her it wasn’t that kind of book.

Ever since, the same question had been asked.

“Not this time,” Rowan said, returning the smile.

“Shame,” Aelin said, “I would have given you an excellent review.”

The rest of dinner progressed in somewhat amicable silence. They only exchanged a few words about what the next few weeks would look like for Rowan’s new manuscript. And Aelin of course ordered a slice of chocolate cheesecake to go.

When the waitress returned with the bill, Rowan swept up the little black book and deposited his credit card all before Aelin could ask for a split bill.

She raised a brow in silent questioning.

“I told ye I’d pay,” he said, accent slipping just a bit deeper than he usually allowed it. Something flashed in his eyes that kept Aelin from arguing further.

So she allowed him to pay for the meal, which couldn’t have been cheap, and help her stand and put on her jacket.

It wasn’t until they were outside in the warm summer night that Aelin stepped away from him, eyes narrowed. She fully expected him to turn back to the grumpy old writer she’d always seen him as, but as she took him in she noted that smoldering look remained in his eyes.

The sun was close to setting, casting them both in the soft golden light of dusk. Despite how it was nearing nine, it was still warm. Though, Aelin felt more than just the lingering effects of the summer heat rolling through her.

She had no idea what to make of the last hour with Rowan. No idea what to make of the look that he still held her with.

“You’re going to give me hell tomorrow, aren’t you?” he asked.

Aelin grinned, she couldn’t help it. “Oh, I guarantee it.”

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t missed this subtle game of theirs. The verbal sparring had been the only thing getting her through the work day on most occasions. He was aggravating, certainly, but the only one who hadn’t dismissed her, who would take her shit and return it just the same.

Rowan flagged down a cab for her and opened the door for her, resting a hand on the small of her back. The action was so unlike anything she’d experienced before. All the other men she’d dated, or known casually, would have simply left her on the side of the road to flag her own cab or just toss her in the cab and be done with it.

Aelin remembered her dad treating her mom well and how he would always open her doors, make sure she was taken care of, buy flowers and chocolates…but then Rhoe had died. It had been ten years since the accident, but Aelin would never forget the kind of man he’d been.

“Thank-you,” she said. She even managed to muster up a sincere smile, even knowing that as soon as the cab pulled away, she’d be lamenting over the embarrassment at being stood up and found out by Rowan Whitethorn.

His expression was unreadable even as he made sure she was tucked into the back of the cab. Then he leaned in, close enough that she could see the cool green of his eyes.

“Whoever stood you up is an idiot, Galathynius.” He pulled back before she could respond and shut the door firmly before patting the top of the cab.

The cabbie shot off into the street before Aelin could even register Rowan’s words.

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#rowaelin #rowaelin month #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #throne of glass #tog #fanfiction

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