Chapter 51

Lila’s POV

We demolished the best damn burritos on the planet and then hauled our burrito-stuffed butts back upstairs to work. Rowan’s typing during our days in my dorm had been impressive, but now, back at his place, he was like some caffeine-infused oracle hammering out prose at ultra speed. I peeked over and caught him settling deeper into the floor cushion—legs crossed like a meditation guru—which somehow made him look more relaxed than when he was typing at Riley’s battered old desk or perched on my bed. I tried not to feel guilty for crashing at his place far longer than I had any right. Then again, his half-apology for turning me into a werewolf was practically a down payment, so I figured we were even. Maybe.

Dinner time rolled around, and I decided to rediscover my inner chef—if you stretched the word “chef” to its absolute limits. I’d only helped Grandma during holiday feasts for the last year and a half of college, so success was definitely not guarante