chapter seven:

When the night fell upon the city, Carmen changed out into her night dress into some tracksuit pants and a shirt. She sighed, glancing at the clock above the door. Despite living under the same apartment for a day, Carmen hasn't really quite got to find out how her husband was expect being a pervert who spoke so highly of himself. This was clearly not what she expected in a young marriage, and once she heard her parents talk in the living room, about how her future husband was only a few months older than her. She was relieved when she found out she wasn't marrying a man in his late thirties and calmed down a little. But upon finally seeing who her husband would be, Rowan was out of the question.

She huffed, turning away and facing the blankets on that bed, her hands clenched.

Either way, she wasn't planning a happy marriage with some total stranger, she scoffed and lulled the blanket up.

Rowan walked out that bathroom, a steamy air punching out behind him as he stepped out. His lower body was wrapped with a towel with another one, around his neck. Water dripped from his brown hair, trickling down onto his lower body towel. He paused by the door, frowning as he remembered, there was only one bedroom in the apartment and she was probably inside. He clicked his tongue, this girl was definitely something. For someone who didn't know who he was, she was surprisingly taking this whole marriage thing well. He wondered, if she was the way she is because she thinks this marriage will work out in the near future. To him, every girl were the same, she wasn't any different. He never wanted this marriage in the beginning, so it was no point into giving her high hopes or acting all husband to all. He sighed, grabbed the door knob. So why was his heart pounding?

The door swung open before Rowan could pull. He gasped, stepping back. Her eyes went to his chiseled chest then his eyes.

"Uh? Blankets," she said, then looked away.

He raised an eyebrow, "What's this for?"

"To sleep," she averted her eyes on his face, forcing them there, "You can't sleep without a blanket you idoit!"

She accidentally looked down, blushing, she turned away.

"And why are you handing me it?" He asked.

"Because…," she looked up, "You're sleeping on the couch."

The silence brewed between, the drop of water hitting the ebony ground, Carmen's heavy breathing and that distant hum of the washing machine in the kitchen.

Rowan laughed, causing her to flinch over the sound running through his throat. It was wave of mockery and sarcasm, that git straight to her face. Her hold on that blanket tightened. When his laugh died out, he glanced at her, smirking, "You want me to sleep on the couch?" His smile fell as he finished asking.

She didn't know how to response. Didn't men sleep in the couch while the women took the bed? It was something common, well, if they fought and the wife was angry at her husband. But this case was different, Carmen was married to him, and still she thought it would be weird sharing a bed with some stranger, and maybe he'll feel the same too. So she saved thr trouble, preparing an extra blanket, but now he was refusing and she didn't know what to say. When she couldn't say a word, she said his name. "Rowan!"

"Tsk," he groaned, then bumped into her as he went into the room. "No."

Carmen turned to face him, his back facing her, she blushed, his back was as great his as chest. She shook her head, momentarily seething with the little disagreement. "You can't just—"

"I'm not sleeping on the couch." Rowan interrupted, and Carmen's face turned red when his towel touched the floor. He glanced at her and she quickly in a swift looked away. From her side, he could tell how red her face was.

"We're married. There are no rules that say you get to take my bed while I'm stuck on the couch." She said, her hands squeezing thought that blanket.

He sighed, pulling on his clothes,"Well, you don't get to dictate where I sleep either." He turned to her, pushing his hands into his pockets, "Besides, if you want me to desperately sleep on the couch, why don't you lead by example."

Carmen dropped the blanket down. She faced him, a little relieved he had clothes on as she crossed her arms, "You can't seriously think this is going to work if we keep fighting like this."

He shrugs, "What's new? Fighting is all we've got."

"This wasn't part of the deal." She muttered, glancing away from him.

He stepped closer, his voice softening, "Neither was this marriage, Carmen."

Carmen doesn't respond, her eyes burning with frustration. The silence between them grows thick again. Only to be broken by the beeping noise of the washing machine indicating it was done.

Carmen turned away, "Fine. Do whatever the hell you want."

Carmen left the room, and was Rowan's chuckle was heard after. This girl was interesting. He has thought maybe she'll love sharing a bed with him, wouldn't any girl love to have that opportunity? He glanced at the blanket on the ground. He sighed deeply, and walked over to it, holding it up. Then fixed his eyes on the couch on the far corner of the room.

He sigh again, throwing his head down. "Just for the night," he thought, "This girl is something else."

Carmen grunted, carrying the basket into the bed room. "I'll pack this in the morning." She opens the door to the room, placing the basket down. She huffs, then turns to the bed. Huh? The bed is empty.

She turned to the couch, gasping, she didn't expect to see him actually on the couch with the blanket wrapped around him. She felt bad now. She walked over to him, and pulled the covers over to his chest. Idoit. She walked up to her bed, taking off her slippers, she bounced on the bed, laying her eyes down.