Page 90 of Embrace

The cold breeze makes me shiver, but I try to hide it. Kian eyes the goose bumps on my skin with a knowing look. Terrible idea to wear a tank top in the cold October air, but I was planning on wearing a jersey—his.

“You’re freezing your ass off when you could just come inside,” he says.

He’s right, and that annoys me.Idiot.

“I know, I’m an idiot. But please can you come inside? I’ll give you a ride back the second my hand stops throbbing.”

I don’t move.

“Please? I’m in pain, Scar.”

I bite the stupid smile that forces its way onto my face. God, can anyone say no to him? “Fine. But I’m not talking to you.”

Kian pouts. “Whatever you say.”

He leads me inside, and I purposely walk four feet away fromhim. In his room, the first thing he does is go straight to his vinyl shelf. Even now he’s thinking about music.

The first notes of “Sink” by Noah Kahan play. Kian strips off his stained T-shirt, and I stare at the only barren wall in his room. It’s even warmer here, and my choice of tank top seems to be the correct one, but I still rub the goose bumps on my arms.

“Cold?”

Burning. But I don’t answer. I just have to wait until I’m home, then I can replay the way his arms looked when he pounded into Adi’s face.

I startle when Kian drapes a sweater over my shoulders. He’s careful in his movement, slow and almost cautious when he pulls back. I remove the Dalton Royals sweater with the number seventy-six from around me.

“Come on, Scar. You can be mad at me, but don’t take it out on yourself.”

I place the sweater on his desk chair before pulling out my phone to check the time. Kian pulls it out of my hand, slipping it into his back pocket, then walking me backward until my ass hits the chair.

He’s towering over me, sobigand imposing.

“You won’t talk to me?” he asks.

Liquid heat pools in my stomach, completely unwarranted. I try to stop the onset of the electrification of my body. But that fails the second he drops to his knees, placing his body between my parted legs.

Kian Ishida is on hisknees.

“Please don’t give me the silent treatment, Scarlett,” he begs. “Not because of that asshole.”

“Y-you didn’t have to hit him,” I nearly pant.

His head tilts, his grip on either side of the chair tightening. “What if I wanted to?”

I narrow my eyes. “You shouldn’t do that for me.”

“You know, I don’t care about what I should be doing. I can’t stand someone talking about you like that.”

His words are like ribbons, tying a bow around my heart and pulling.

“You could get suspended for something like that.”

“I know.”

“I’ve been with guys, Kian. You can’t punch every one.” I swallow, unable to choke back the words. “Are you that ashamed of my past? You could jeopardize your graduation.”

“You think I’m ashamed of you?”

I pause, realizing that’s the only thing he responded to. Not the fact that he could lose the one thing he’s been working toward this whole semester.