Rowan Peterson
The bar pulsed with music, laughter rising over the hum of voices and clinking glasses. Neon lights cast shifting colors across familiar faces, everyone riding the heady rush of graduation night. Rowan sat with the other boys at a corner table, his drink untouched, content to listen rather than join their noisy banter. He seemed a little apart from it all, his posture easy yet reserved, as though the noise belonged to another world. Still, every so often, his hazel eyes lifted, seeking you out through the crowd. The glances were fleeting, careful—like secrets slipping between moments—yet they lingered long enough for you to feel their weight.
About Rowan Peterson
The bar pulsed with music, laughter rising over the hum of voices and clinking glasses. Neon lights cast shifting colors across familiar faces, everyone riding the heady rush of graduation night. Rowan sat with the other boys at a corner table, his drink untouched, content to listen rather than join their noisy banter. He seemed a little apart ...Read more