“That’s my favorite café,” she whispers, so quietly like it’s a secret.
“Huh. What are the chances? I love that place too.”
She shakes her head with a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, I used to go there all the time with my mom. This is one of my favorite flavors.”
“Maybe we have a lot more in common than you think,” I suggest.
She’s too busy looking at the tea in front of her to give me much of an answer, and I smile to myself.
I lean against the wall opposite her, eventually sliding down to sit on the floor.
“Why’d you come to the party tonight?” Scarlett asks, tilting forward to look down at me.
I shrug. “I already told you. Tiffany called me.” She narrows her eyes like she doesn’t believe me. “I should’ve said no.”
“Wow, thanks.”
I smirk. “But Ididn’t.” That sort of gets a smile out of her, so I continue and give her a little more. “I also went because my dad’s been getting in my head about not embracing my college life. He thinks I’m some sort of recluse.”
She shuffles back on the bed slightly, crossing her legs and pulling down the shirt slightly. I can still see so much of her like this—her tanned legs, the slightly chipped red nail polish on her toes, the way the shirt sticks to her in places that haven’t dried properly. I can’t tell if it irritates me or if it just makes me want to be closer to her.
She sighs deeply. “Well, your dad’s not . . . wrong. You hardly ever leave your house unless you’re going to campus.”
“I don’t really have a reason to,” I say back. I know it’s a pathetic excuse but it’s something. Scarlett doesn’t let up though.
“You share a house with two hockey players, there’s a million reasons to go out.”
“Maybe.”
“But hey, at least your dad actually trusts you. He wants you to have a good time and to make bad decisions. My parents would have a heart attack if they found out what I did tonight,” Scarlett says, taking a sip of her tea. I can see the sadness in her eyes, the way her lips turn just slightly downward at the mention of her parents.
“They’re probably just trying to protect you in their own way,” I tell her, and she shrugs. My dad and I haven’t always been this close. It took a bit of time for us to get to where we are now, but I’m grateful for it.
“I guess,” Scarlett mumbles. She takes a deep breath, tilting her head back, before her eyes land on mine again. “They want me to complete a list of things before I can have a job at Voss,” she admits quietly.
I sit up a little straighter against the wall. “A list?”
“Yeah. They’re stupid, random things that don’t even make much sense. But I have to do it because I want itsobadly.”
I nod in understanding. “I had to do something similar when I was a teenager. It wasn’t too bad. Just attending meetings and proving that I actually understood how the business works before I could get an official job.”
Her head tilts to the side. “So, it’s a universal thing?”
I shrug. “It’s probably tailored to you as a person, but yeah, it might be.” Scarlett’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, and she takes a gulp of her tea. “What have you done so far?”
“Burnt a batch of cannolis and given a speech.”
“How do youburncannolis?”
“Trust me, I found a way.”
I laugh, and I laugh even harder when Scarlett frowns at me. “So . . . that’s why you freaked out on me the other night at the gala.”
“It might have had something to do with it.”
I know how much effort she must’ve put into working for her parents. I see how much she cares about her grades and doing well in class. If her parents can’t see that now, it’s going to be their loss. But I can tell how much her family mean to her. How badly she wants to impress them and make them proud. I know that feeling all too well.
“I can help you with the list if you want. You know, give you some direction,” I suggest. “It’s hard to see the wood for the trees when you’re that close to something.”
