Page 48 of Embrace

There’s a bright smile on her face when I pull back. “Okay, I’m a woman of my word. One dance for you,” she says, just as the musicchanges and “Promiscuous” starts to play. The song makes Scarlett throw her head back on a laugh, and when she dances, it’s all hips and heat. The lights catch the shimmer on her skin as she turns, letting the rhythm roll through her, her hair swaying and skimming my abdomen as she moves.

I tell myself not to stare, to just dance with her like I would anyone else, but that goes up in smoke when she turns, hips rolling, shoulders relaxed, and eyes on me. She slides her hair over her shoulder, catching the light, and it’s like the beat syncs with my pulse.

I’m not sure how long I watch her, trying to dance while I attempt not to focus on the way my heart feels like it’s going to pound clean out of my chest. But then the song changes, and instead of a few minutes, our dance felt like hours, yet somehow still too short. That’s when Cole comes back to her side and Cassie returns to mine.

Cassie pulls me toward her, and we dance together, but my mind is still stuck on red.

Sixteen

Scarlett

“The Dalton Royalsare coming apart at the seams before our very eyes. And Coach Kilner? If he can’t clinch the playoff berth he’s built his reputation on, the king might start looking a lot more like the court jester.”

Ever since Dylan Donovan got suspended, Dad hasn’t been keeping his cool.

“If these idiots are so damn smart, they should become coaches,” Dad mutters.

I reach over to turn the volume all the way down. “It’s seven a.m., Dad. The last thing anyone needs is you being pissed off so early.”

“Good call. So how’s the study group? Your mom told me you started tutoring some athlete.”

My heart stops. “Uh, yeah, he needs help with his senior-level course.”

“Anyone I know?”

I sigh. “Dad.”

“Okay, okay.”

I stare out the window to hide my burning face.

He drops me off at Porter’s. I’ve decided to squeeze in some timeto study, and a burger. Going to the library sounds like too much when my brain’s gone awry. Except I still have to log into the study group video call.

Everyone’s already there, waving through their webcams, but I notice Kian’s camera’s off. That might be a good thing. I mute myself and continue studying.

But I realize pretty soon it’s hard to study or eat when the only thing you’ve been thinking about all weekend is your six-foot-two hockey-player tutee. The thought of resting my hands on his hard shoulders and letting my body press against his might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.

Giving up, I stand to pack my things and head to the dorm. When I’ve finally convinced myself that I can still focus, Kian walks into Porter’s, gaze homed in on me.

He’s wearing a backward hat, a Dalton Royals T-shirt that’s stretched too tightly across his chest and is too short, barely covering that V that leads down into his black jeans.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came looking for you.”

I look around. “How’d you even know I was here?”

“The study group. I could recognize Porter’s anywhere,” he says. “I didn’t know you liked to come here.”

“Like?” Scott, the owner, laughs when he overhears. He lifts a few boxes onto a dolly. “The girl comes in here so often I’m thinking of selling her the photo booth.”

Kian stares between us. “Photo booth?”

I point at it. “It’s like a memory. I take a picture every time I hit a milestone. I’ve been doing it since I was little.”

“What’s the milestone today, kid?” Scott asks.

“Can’t a girl just get a burger?” I say.