It’s like every bar I’ve seen—sticky high tables covered in coasters and abandoned glasses, loud pop music bouncing off the walls—and it’s full of people from all the colleges that attended the mixer. It’s Halloween weekend, so there’s a few people dressed up in costumes too.
I pull my hoodie up over my head, dipping it slightly as I make my way through the crowd.
I breathe in and out slowly.
Inhale.
Hold for three.
Exhale.
I make my way toward the makeshift dance floor, finally lifting my head when there’s a clearing.
And then I see her.
I can’t tell if it’s just the lighting or if my eyes are making it up, but I swear, even though she’s drunk, Scarlett is glowing. A golden pool of light spills over her entire body. Her dark hair shines, pink lips set in a soft smile. Her hands are in the air as she dances, her eyes closed, and her head tilted back slightly. She sways in time to the music, her hair sticking to her forehead in a perfect, messy way.
She looks so soft. Unreal. Like something I’m not allowed to touch or even look at. She’s the sound caught between notes on a piano. Something delicate and beautiful that can’t be replicated.
“Hey, you made it.”
It’s only then that I realize her eyes have opened and I’m standing right in front of her. I don’t want to stop looking at her. Can’t.
I swallow. “Tiffany called me to come get you. She said you weren’t doing good.”
Her eyebrows furrow and I shouldn’t find it so adorable, but I do. “Why? Am I being too loud?”
“Something like that.” She nods, but she doesn’t stop dancing to the music, her arms swaying by her side now. I step a little closer to her, leaning in so she can hear me, and I ask, “What happened, Scarlett?”
She scoffs. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I would. That’s why I’m here.”
I lean back so I can see her better, but her eyes wander around the room. “Michaela was trying to pick a fight with me,” she says quietly. “She was making fun of my family and making comments about me and the past, and I freaked out on her and she left.”
“Did you slap her?”
Scarlett’s eyes shoot to mine. “No, Evan, I didn’t slap her.”
“Just me then.”
She glares at me, and I bite back a laugh. Her face softens slightly and my fingers brush against her hip bone. I can’t tell if it relaxes her or makes her feel worse, but she doesn’t move out of my grip yet.
“I think everyone here hates me,” she mumbles.
“Shut up,” I say, laughing.
Her nose scrunches. “No, they do, and—”
“Shut up, Scarlett,” I say again, my voice a little softer this time. “No one here hates you. They just don’t know you. You don’t let anyone know you.”
Her eyes stare into mine and I can’t look away. I don’twantto look away.
I might know how to get on her nerves by spending enough time with her in class, and knowing about her family, but even I don’t trulyknowher. Not the same way her friends do. I’ve come close to getting information out of her like I have tonight, but I don’t know Scarlett any more than she knows me. But I want to. And surely we’re getting past our whole bickering thing now.
“Well,” Scarlett starts, hiccupping, “since you’re here, I think you should dance with me.”
She tries tugging on my arms, but I don’t budge, and it only makes her stumble slightly. I reach out for her before she can fall, wrapping my arm loosely around her waist until she stands upright. Her skin is so warm beneath my hand. Usually I’d want to pull away, but I don’t. I just apply a little more pressure, holding her tighter until I feel better and she relaxes into my touch.
