Page 47 of Embrace

I hum in acknowledgment, not liking the way my stomach tightens when they both move out of my line of sight. Cassie says something, and I know I should probably be listening to be polite, but I can’t pry my gaze away from the bar. Then I spot Scarlett’s bright hair again.

She’s laughing with Cole. But her attention’s all over the place, eyes glittering under the lights.

The brown top I picked out for her clings to her like a second skin, outlining each curve on her body, until her skirt takes over, sending my gaze plunging lower until—what the fuck am I doing?

I see Cole whisper something to her, pointing to the tattoos on her arm and leaning down to hear what she has to say. I try and fail, for the second time, to pull my gaze away.

I should be over there. Should be the one standing too close, making her laugh, pulling her attention back where it belongs. Back to me.

But instead, I’m here trying to focus on Cassie, who is the reason I’m in this bar in the first place.

“You seem distracted,” she says, tilting her head, her hand brushing my arm like she’s trying to reel me back in.

Yeah.Distractedis one word for it.

“Do I?” I say, dragging my eyes back to Cassie, forcing my voice steady, but it’s already a lost cause. Because my gaze keeps finding Scarlett. How her smile tugs higher with each thing Cole says to her. How her hair falls over her shoulder, messy and perfect. How her eyes dart toward me finally.

“Yeah, you’ve been in your head this whole time.”

I feel like a dick. “Sorry, my mind’s been a bit of a jumble.” The reason being my tutor.

And then I don’t hear what she says because Scarlett’s moving and suddenly she’s on the dance floor, watching Cole bang his head to the band.

“You wanna dance?” Cassie asks.

I pull myself back. I can’t keep watching her like a guard dog.

“Sure.” Cassie and I head to the dance floor, and that’s when the band finishes their set.

The music goes back to the speakers, something slow, all smoke and heat, and I don’t like this. Not the way Cole is looking at Scarlett, and definitely not the way he’s dancing. They’re not even touching, and Scarlett is dancing, but it’s close to him, almost as close as we were earlier. I feel like a bad friend bringing her here and forcing her into a situation she’d rather not be in. So instead of letting that happen, I move through the crowd, wedging my shoulder between them and standing in front of Scarlett.

Her eyes widen, then, as if something dawns on her, she tiptoes up and I lean down to hear her. “Is this not a good look for my rep?”

It takes me a second to understand what she’s talking about. And then I shake my head, hating that that’s the first thought in her head. “No, you’re fine. But it wouldn’t hurt if you were with me.”

She gives me a look. “So first you drag me here, and now you want to dance?”

There’s a teasing note to her voice that makes the hair on the nape of my neck stand up, it doesn’t help that she’s got a hand on my shoulder, trying to balance herself there so she can press her lips to my ear as she talks. It’s entirely too much, but I don’t pull away. I could keep talking to her, right here, like this, forever.

“You won’t give me one pity dance? I think I deserve it.”

She chuckles, and the sound zings down my spine. “If you can answer one question.”

“Scar, you can’t test me in the middle of a dance floor. You’re not my tutor here.”

What is she, then?

She presses closer. “Guess it depends on how much you want this dance.”

“Fine, hit me.”

Her eyes brighten. “What does it mean if the P value is 0.05?” The question slips off her lips, and I wonder how a statistics question makes me feel this way. I actually think I’d ace Dunn’s course if he had Scarlett ask the questions like this.

It’s a basic question, almost too basic. But when she pulls back to look at me, I see the slight smile on her face. I know she’s taking it easy on me.

A part of me wants to answer it wrong, hoping she’d be so appalled that she’d drag me to the library right now and torture me with mock tests until I understood it. But I think I’d rather dance with her here.

“Statistically significant. Reject the null hypothesis.”