“And you just almost had a heart attack.” I breathe, and she does too, her shoulders dropping. “Look, you don’t have to explain everything to me,” she continues. “I was being nosy and it’s really not my business. Just forget I said anything.”
I swallow. “I wanted you to know.”
Her eyebrows pinch together. “Why?”
“Because I feel like I’ve spent so long convincing myself that nothing’s wrong with me, and the way you even bothered to ask makes me think you’re one of the only people who would understand.”
Scarlett blinks at me. “If you need to, like, take a break or something, or if you just need a minute away from all of this, you don’t have to explain anything to me. I won’t judge you.”
“You won’t?”
Scarlett grins, tilting her head to the side. “No. Your tidy puzzle brain is what makes you so annoying. It’s something I might never understand.”
I break out into a full-on smile. “My tidy puzzle brain?”
“Yeah. Your noggin, your information-storer.” She leans across the table, her dark hair falling in front of her face for a second, and she taps her pen to my temple. Her lips curve up as she says, “Tidy puzzle brain.”
Something inside me settles, like a fire that’s just been put out. Before she can retreat, I encircle my fingers around her wrist. She drags her gaze from mine to her wrist, but I don’t move, and neither does she. I swipe my thumb against her skin, and she lets out a shaky breath. Her pulse hammers where our bodies meet, and my heart roars in my chest.
“Thank you,” I whisper, “for trying to understand.”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” she says, but her voice is breathless.
Neither of us moves, and we’re caught in one of those moments again, where time seems to both stretch and still. I swipe my thumb against her again, and it’s so subtle, but I watch the way her eyes flutter slightly.
“Scarlett,” I say slowly, “we need to—”
“We really don’t.”
“Yes, we do,” I say, tightening my hold on her just a fraction. When her eyes try to leave mine, I dip my head slightly, gaining her attention again. “You kissed me, Scarlett, and we didn’t speak the whole hour it took you to drive us back home. And then you all but kicked me out of your car when we got to my house.”
She swallows. “So?”
“So . . . what the fuck does that mean?”
“It doesn’tmeananything,” she seethes, and she pulls her hand out of my grasp. “We were scared and high on adrenaline. It was just a moment of weakness.”
I blink at her, repeating her own words back to her slowly. “A moment of weakness.”
“Yes, we don’t . . . we don’t need to make it into a big deal, or whatever”—she gestures between us—“whatever this is. We’re friends now, right, Branson? I don’t want to complicate that.”
I swallow hard, leaning back in my seat. “Okay, yeah, you’re right. It’s not a big deal.”
“Yes, exactly.” She nods, dropping her gaze back to her own laptop.
I’m lying again. She has to know I am. Shehasto. I’ve always played everything at Scarlett’s pace. Gone along with every game she sets up for us. If she wants to make this into a big deal, then that’s what we’ll do. If she doesn’t . . . Well, I guess I’ll just have to suck it up and understand that that might be the only time I get to kiss Scarlett Voss.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: SCARLETT
“Why don’t we do what people our age aresupposedto do and go Christmas shopping online?” Kennedy complains for the hundredth time today as we make our way through the Christmas markets downtown.
Wren and I share a look, but I just roll my eyes, not wanting to get Kennedy on another I-want-to-go-home rant. She’s not the only one who feels that way.
It’s fucking freezing outside today, and the entire town are doing their last bit of Christmas shopping before the markets close for the holidays. I, unfortunately, am among them. I might have my college life under control and a plan for my future, but when it comes to any sort of holiday shopping, I am the worst at getting organized for it. I hate shopping online for gifts. I like to go out to stores and see what I’m buying before I get it. I like seeing something random and realizing it would be a perfect gift for someone. I just have bad luck with picking the right time to go.
With how busy I’ve been with the project for class and the list, I feel like I deserve this night out with my friends. My SEI application is coming along well, I’ve successfully completed another thing off the list, the winter line is coming together well enough that I could probably show my parents my designs over Christmas break. The cannolis are still a work in progress, but it’s progress nonetheless.
Being here, surrounded by my friends and the smell of roasted chestnuts and hot chocolate is just what I need.
