Big brown eyes stare up into mine and her palms fall flat against my chest.
My breath catches. “I think we’re kinda becoming friends,” she whispers.
“You do?”
“Yeah . . .” She rolls her neck, avoiding my eyes again. “You sat with me on the bus, you helped me with Richard, you came here because Tiffany called you . . . I think you like me, Evan Branson.”
I swallow, looking down at her. “You do, huh?”
“Mmhm. I don’t think youwantto . . . but you do.”
“Is that right?”
Scarlett grins. “It’ssoright that you can’t even deny it.”
I open my mouth to say something, tell her how much I don’t like her, but it’s just not true. I’ve always liked her. Always thought she was the smartest person I know. I’ve admired her from afar for years. But since she’s adamant about extending ourfamilies’ rivalry to us, I’ve been playing along, figuring it was easier to pretend I don’t like her than admit the truth.
“I think you should get back to your room,” I say finally, letting out an unsteady breath.
Scarlett shakes her head, stepping back from me. “I think you should dance. You came all the way here.”
“Scarlett—”
“Comeon. This song is right up your alley.” She reaches for my arms and shakes them. Again, I stand still, trying to hold my ground.
“Scarlett, you should—”
Before I can finish my sentence, she lets go of my arms and drops to her knees as she throws up on the floor. She just about misses my clothes and shoes, and I’m grateful for it, despite the way my heart races in my chest. The dance floor clears slightly, and I have to take a deep breath and close my eyes for a few seconds to steady my breathing.
This is fine. This happens all the time. It’s not a big deal.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, taking in another deep breath, when Scarlett stands again, wiping the side of her mouth. “Come on, let me take you home.”
She steps away from me, walking to the nearest table to grab a napkin. I follow behind her. “No. I’ll get a cab. I-I can take care of myself,” she says with her back to me.
“I know you can, but right now, you’re going to let me help you. Okay?” Her back is still to me, and I watch as her shoulders drop with a sigh. I rest my hand on her shoulder, swiping my thumb against her shoulder blades. I lean in slightly, just enough that my breath brushes against her ear. “Okay?”
She sucks in a sharp breath before she finally turns to me. “Fine. Whatever. Do your worst.”
It’s a struggle, but I manage to bring her back to the hotel in one piece.
The elevator doors ping at the floor that our college has booked out and I walk out first, Scarlett quiet behind me. She’s not spoken much since we left the bar, and I’ve been trying my best not to upset her more than she already is.
“What room are you in?” I ask.
She closes her eyes tight, shaking her head. “It’ssoooofar away.”
“They’re all on the same floor. It can’t be that far.”
“It’s room 275,” she whispers, groaning.
“Oh shit. Yeah, thatisfar.”
Scarlett groans even louder, propping herself up against the nearest wall and sliding down it dramatically. She pulls her knees to her chest, dropping her face between them and I stifle a laugh. “I feel like my guts are quite literally being rearranged right now. I’m never going to make it that far.”
I sigh, stepping in front of her. “Hey, look, my room’s right there,” I say, pointing down the hall. “You can sober up there, so Biggins doesn’t kill you and then I’ll walk you back to your room later.”
She peers up at me with teary, tired eyes. “You’d do that?”
