“Or that’s just what you told the media,” she goads.
“Oh, is that what we’re doing? Because I knowyouknow a thing or two about covering things up for the media.”
Scarlett jerks back. I have clearly hit a nerve. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I lower my voice to barely a whisper and say, “Your little rendezvous for your sweet sixteen.”
Her eyes flash with anger, her nostrils flaring. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Hm. I think I do. What were you thinking—”
She cuts me off with her fingers wrapped around my tie, pulling it tight enough that I almost choke. She leaves me a little room so I can breathe, just enough to let out a surprised gasp. She’s so close to me, her dark, fiery eyes staring into mine, daring me to push her even further. I’m still pissed about her being late, and I know that my comment nearly crossed a line, but that’s the whole point. This is what we do. We push each other. We toe that line until one of us backs down and waves the white flag.
She tugs on my tie, jolting my head forward until we’re an inch apart.
Scarlett’s voice shakes. “Shut your spoiled little rich boy mouth or I—”
“Or what? Are you going to slap me, angel?”
A firm hand hits me right across the cheek and I gasp. Scarlett must’ve surprised herself too because her mouth pops open and she loosens her grip slightly on my tie. My cheek burns from the force of her hand, tiny sparks fluttering across my entire face as I stare directly back into her eyes.
“I-I was joking,” I utter stupidly.
“I wasn’t.” She tugs me even closer somehow. I give in easily. Stupidly. I stare at her lips. Her nose. The faded freckles on her cheekbones. Her chest is heaving, her breathing coming out in short bursts, mimicking my own. “Now are you going to shut your mouth or do you need to be slapped again?”
I blink at her and her eyes narrow as if she’s testing me. “Fuck, I . . . Yeah, I’ll shut up.”
She smirks, finally letting go of my tie. “Good.”
I don’t risk saying anything else for the rest of the night. Is it wrong that part of mewantsher to slap me again? I want her close to me like that again. Want her fingers wrapped around my tie as she insults me and threatens to slap me again.
I laugh to myself. Maybe I’m just sleep-deprived.
We put together a good list of event ideas, including collaborations and future plans for EcoElegance. After hearing some whispers about what our other classmates are doing, we seem to be ahead on phase one. Everyone else is focusing on preparing for the networking event next week, but I’m confident enough to wing it.
When we’re done with our notes, we pack up at the same time before making our way back to the parking lot. Our cars are the last ones in the lot, conveniently parked across from each other.
Scarlett hasn’t said much either, but I can’t bear the silence anymore, so before she gets to her driver’s side, I say, “You know what? I can’t believe you actually slapped me.”
She snorts, turning to face me. “I can’t believeyouthought I’d just let your little comment pass. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
I grin. “We were nine the last time you slapped me because you were pissed that I took the last slice of pizza at an event.”
“Right. I can’t believe you remember that.” She laughs, and something inside me jolts awake. It’s rare that I’m the solewitness to Scarlett’s laughter and it feels like I’ve won some sort of prize. Usually, she’s laughing with her friends or laughing at my expense. This somehow feels different. Special. Like it’s just for me in the quietness of the night. Her face slowly softens into something more serious, and she drops her gaze to the ground. “Look, I genuinely didn’t mean to lose my cool, but just . . . don’t talk about that, okay? The whole sweet-sixteen thing. You can make fun of me being a brat all you want, but that . . . That isn’t on the table for me.”
I swallow, nodding. “Okay, understood.” Her eyes meet mine again, and I try to smooth out the tension slightly. “And as for me, you can do your worst, angel. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but your words will never hurt me.”
She twists her mouth to the side. “A slap might.”
I let out a short laugh, reaching for my cheek and rubbing it. “You weren’t kidding around. I’m going to have a mark there.”
Before I can laugh it off, Scarlett reaches for my hand, pushing it out the way so she can have a better look at my face. Gentle fingers quickly smooth over my cheek and I watch her watch me carefully. It doesn’t really hurt at all, but she’s touching me. And I’m letting her.
“No, you won’t. You’re all good,” she whispers, still checking.
I swallow again. “Yeah?”
“Mmhm.” Her hand drops from my face, and she traps her hands under each of her armpits, rocking back on her heels. I want her to keep looking at me. I want her to keep talking to me.
