The head chef, Paul, catches my eye and lifts his hand towel in a wave. He’s a short, big guy who must be in his late seventies by now. His face is almost always covered in flour and his cheeks pink. “Evan! You should’ve told me you were stopping by. I would’ve prepared some scones for you to take home.”
“That’s okay,” I say, smiling as I push the key into the door that leads to the library. “Next time,” I tell him, but he’s too busy commanding his kitchen again to hear me.
The door opens and I hear Scarlett’s audible gasp from behind me.
The library is quite literally a hidden gem, reserved only for the people that know it exists. It’s tucked away behind aninconspicuous door, opening to a world of timeless elegance. It’s breathtaking in a comforting way that reminds me of the days my dad would drop me off here after school to spend time with my mom.
Scarlett does a slow circle, taking in the large room. “Where did you even find this place?”
“My mom built it.”
“Your mom?” she asks, clearly surprised. “I kinda thought you were raised by hellions.”
I clear my throat, guiding us through the shelves toward a private study area. “She left when I was a kid, but she and my dad worked on this together before I was born. She always thought of expanding it, but after she and my dad split up, she didn’t bother. So now it’s just used as a quiet place for friends and family to use.”
I turn around to find Scarlett staring at me, her eyes wide and curious. We make it to the closed-off room, tucked between bookshelves, the glass ceiling bringing in all the natural light. “Wow,” Scarlett mumbles, and when I think she’s going to say more, ask more about my mom or what happened, she changes the subject instead. “So, what are you going to Boston for? Another one of Daddy’s launches?”
I chuckle, pulling out my laptop from my bag. “No, I’m playing with a band.”
Scarlett’s eyes get impossibly wider. “A band?”
“More like an orchestra,” I explain, and her mouth pops open. “Jaden Rhodes holds this event every year where he invites people to an industry mixer. He thinks it’s a good way for bigger businesses to interact with the smaller ones and create connections. My dad has been friends with him for years, and I grew up going to their events. There’s a live orchestra that plays over a short film they show at the start, and then they play music throughout the night. It’s not a huge event, but I enjoy it.”
Scarlett blinks at me. “And . . . what? You got invited to play because your dad put in a good word for you?”
I laugh. “I’m a good pianist, Scarlett. If you behave, maybe I’ll put on a show for you.” I nod to the locked piano at the other end of the room. I think I still have the key somewhere from when my mom would hold small gatherings here.
Her eyes narrow. “What makes you think I want to listen to you play?”
“You’re not at all curious about my piano fingers?”
She swallows and shakes her head firmly. “Not in the slightest.”
Something about the slight blush that dances on her cheeks tells me otherwise, but I don’t say that. Instead, I slide my laptop onto the table, and pull out my notebooks and pens. Scarlett does the same, but when her laptop opens, she immediately shuts it, glaring at me.
“I have a bone to pick with you,” she says, folding her arms against her chest.
“You do?” I ask slowly. She nods firmly. “Well, you’ve been ignoring me for the past week, so I can’t imagine what I’ve done to piss you off.”
She scoffs. “I haven’t been ignoring you.”
“You have,” I press, and her eyes narrow. “But if it’s any consolation, you don’t need to be embarrassed about what happened in Denver.”
She lets out an incredulous laugh, shaking her head. “Thank you, but I don’t need any consolation, Evan. I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
Something in her eyes flickers and she averts her gaze, but she recovers quickly, clearing her throat and pushing her hair over her shoulder. “You didn’t think to mention that onlyoneof us gets the SEI?”
“That’swhat your mad about?” She nods and I tilt my head to the side, scratching my eyebrow. “I thought you knew.”
“If IknewI would have asked Lawrence to switch partners.”
“We get marked on our individual contribution to the project, so I don’t think that would have helped,” I explain easily. “Besides, the better our project is, the betterbothof our chances are at getting it. I think Lawrence just wants to make sure everyone’s taking their grades seriously.”
Scarlett bites the corner of her lip, rolling her eyes. “Still.”
“Still, what?” I lean across the table, and Scarlett watches me carefully, tracking every movement I make. I raise my eyebrows, waiting until she gives me what I’m gunning for and she leans forward too, our faces just inches apart. “Are you scared I’m going to beat you?”
