He frowns. “Scarlett,” he says gently.
“No, like, I’m actually terrible. Unless someone tells me exactly what they want, I get awful gifts,” I argue, cutting him off. He studies me for a minute before pinning his hands across his chest.I notice the ribbon he’s still wearing on his wrist, and I tug it. “See, that’s the best you’re going to get from me, Branson.”
He laughs quietly. “So, if it was my birthday next week, what would you get me?” he asks. I think about it for a minute. It’s not that I don’t know him. I could get him a hundred things I know he likes, but I don’t know how to get someone something so meaningful that it makes them cry. Something abstract and justdifferent.
“A tie,” I say finally.
He tilts his head as he repeats, “A tie?” I nod, pulling my lip between my teeth. “That’s pathetic, Scarlett. Come on, you can do better than that.”
His encouragement makes me think harder. Dig deeper. “Okay, maybe a plushie in the shape of a music note because I know you like music.”
“Now that’s better,” he praises. He tilts his head towards me. “Keep going.”
“Maybe I’d make you a playlist.”
“You’d do that?”
“I love music and you love music. It’s one of the things we have in common, but our tastes are different. I could find something that’s a bit of both of us.”
“I like that idea.”
“Yeah?” He nods. I shift uncomfortably, trying to think of something else to say. This shouldn’t be so hard. I’ve spent so long arguing with him, now I don’t know what to say, or how to act. I’ve never been a relationship kind of person, but he makes it seem easy.
“Hey, Scar?” My stomach responds first with butterflies at the stupid nickname.“Stop worrying. You’re fine. I’m fine.We’refine. Just let yourself have this, okay?”
“I’m trying.”
“Good.”
“Great.”
“Perfect.”
“Amazing.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he says, punching out each syllable with extra force. I lean forward, grab his shirt, and pull him into me, kissing him so hard that I lose my balance.
43
Evan
“What have you done to her?” Miles asks, storming into the kitchen as I sit by the breakfast bar, eating my cereal. Last time I checked, I was on my best behaviour. My grades have gone up. I’ve felt more relaxed than usual. I might not have got what I wanted by being back in the business, but I’m starting to like this new life a lot more because I get to share it with my favourite person.
“Done to who?” I say through a mouthful of Cheerio’s.
“Scarlett, you idiot.”
“Oh,” I say. I try to think of something that we’ve left unresolved, but I come up empty. All I’ve done recently is whisper filthy things in her ear while we prepare for our last report, eat her out until she’s a whimpering mess, and hold her hand. That’s it. I end up shrugging in response.
“Oh?” he repeats, throwing an empty can at me, hitting me in the arm.
“Okay, ouch?” I say, rubbing the sore spot of my shoulder as he walks further to me.
“Wren is freaking out. Scarlett hasn’t left her room all day because of something that got delivered.” He leans forward and pokes me in the arm. “From.” Another poke. “You. Did you send her a dead body to her room or something?”
“No, you sicko. I just sent her a gift,” I say truthfully, picking up my bowl to put it into the sink. Miles follows me, watching me intently. “Why are you breathing down my neck?”
“Because my girlfriend is worried about her friend because of you. So, you better-”
