“What? Successful, funny, smart, intelligent, interesting, amazing…” she lists. I swear this woman and her ego will be the death of me. She takes a deep breath and continues listing things about herself which are no doubt true.
“Hot,” I say, cutting her off. Her surprise is just as good as mine. I rub my hand across my face, defeated, as I see the grin crawling up her face. I can't help but clarify, “You’re hot.”
“Oh my god,” she gasps. “Evan Branson thinks I’m hot.”
“You didn’t need me to tell you that.”
She points at me, making a clicking sound as if she’s forgotten something. “Ah, you’re right, I didn’t. But it still felt good.” She smiles at me, but I'm not smiling back, realising what a dumb mistake I made feeding into her ego. She shakes her head as if to get rid of what she was thinking. “Plus, just because we're going on a date doesn’t mean we’re dating. We’re just fooling around…consistently.”
“It sounds like you’re dating to me,” I say. She ends the eye contact in the mirror and instead stands beside the piano, leaning one arm into the top, revealing a sliver of skin on her stomach and hip and I can see the tattoo peeking out again. God, I want to know what it says so badly.
She snorts. “What do you know about relationships? It’s weird, actually. You’re constantly surrounded by beautiful women, like me as you said, but you never take them home. Why is that?”
I laugh this time. “Okay, calm down. I never called you beautiful. I said you’re hot. There’s a difference.”
There isn’t a difference. You couldn’t put Scarlett’s beauty into words if you tried. Those two words are pathetic excuses of adjectives trying to define the woman in front of me. Nothing could truly do her justice.
“Evan,” she presses.
“Scarlett.”
“Just answer the question, you idiot,” she urges.
I sigh, rolling my head back a little. “I just don’t want to. I had a relationship in my first year and it didn’t end very nicely. More for me than for her.”
She shakes her head at me. “That’s why you gotta do what I do.”
“And what’s that?” I ask. “Just fooling around?” She nods, grinning. “Doesn’t everyone’s feelings just get hurt?”
“You’d have to have actual feelings for the person for them to get hurt. See, I do this thing where I detach myself from the person I’m sleeping with.”
“How the hell do you manage to do that?”
She sighs now, looking around the room, trying to find the words for what she’s trying to explain. It already sounds like a dumb idea. And impossible for somebody like me.
“Sex is supposed to be liberating, Evan. A release. It doesn’t have to be this magical, slow, candle-lit experience. Sometimes, all I want is a good time and a quick fuck.” I just blink at her because holy shit. I had an idea that is how she operates, but hearing her say it aloud is jarring.A quick fuck.She narrows her eyes at me as I still stare because…holy shit. “Anyway. I don’t know why I just told you all that. Erase it from your memory now.”
“Done,” I whisper.
Only I know I won’t be able to. It’s hard to forget things when it comes to her. Even when she’s gone, I’m still thinking about it.
My mind goes rotten as I think about exactly what she means by a quick fuck. Does she need to be attracted to a person to do that or is she constantly chasing the release of an orgasm? Then my mind goes into an even filthier place, thinking about what she would look like on her knees, desperate, soaking wet and needing for me to touch her. Her hands tied behind her back with that stupid fucking ribbon so she can’t touch herself. The power she would lose to stop talking about me while my cock is down her-
Oh, fuck.
I’m attracted to Scarlett Voss, and I want her.
Badly.
* * *
When I get to the Branson estate, I see a black Ferrari in the driveaway. I know my uncle Jack is here. He and my dad are fraternal twins, but as a kid, they’d always manage to trick me into believing Jack was my dad. They don’t look much alike now as my dad is desperately still trying to grow out his grey hair while Jack shaved his into a buzzcut. Being around both of them, you’d think they’re college students who never grew out of their ‘I’m still in competition with my brother’ phase.
All in all, it’s always fun being around them. Mostly because Jack constantly makes fun of my dad, and my dad lets him.
When I walk through the doors to the living room, they’re not in there, only Mila rolling around on the rug. I kneel down next to her, trying not to crease my shoes as I scratch her on the stomach. She’s such a good dog. I sometimes wonder if she gets lonely here, though. I know my dad would never admit it, but when I come here early in the morning and my dad’s just getting out of bed, I know she sleeps in the bed with him. I guess they keep each other company.
“Junie was too good for you.” I hear my uncle's voice booming from the room over. Great. So, we’re doing this again. I lean against the swivelling door, trying to get a better listen only to be hit with a strong wave of Deja vu.
