Page 72 of Ruthless Edge

I pick up the try pile and head back toward the fitting rooms, and I'm aware of what I'm doing and why, which is the slightly unbearable part. I'm going to spend my Saturday night at a bar waiting for Knox Carter to see something that I don’t know how else to explain to him.

I'm standing in a mall holding three dresses and a try pile and I think Paige was right earlier.

I know what I'm scared of. That's not exactly the same as knowing what I want.

I'm not ready to look at the difference.

"Try the navy one first," Paige says, right behind me, and I go into the fitting room and close the door.

Chapter Eighteen

Knox

Emma's text said the bar on Calder Street at nine, show up and follow her lead, and that was it.

So I'm here at nine-oh-three, pushing through the door of a bar that's warm and loud and smells like woodsmoke and old wood, and I scan the room until I find her.

Emma is at a pushed-together pair of high-tops in the corner. Paige is beside her, and Rory and Sienna are across from them, and Ethan and Jace are there too, which is not at all what I was expecting. That's fine. Emma didn't say it was just us, I'm just happy we're spending time together. And besides, my best friend Ethan will have my back. He knows how badly I’ve got it for Emma. I start toward the table and Emma sees me coming, and she looks almost nervous, or maybe like she's anticipating something.

There's a man I don't recognize sitting next to Emma.

He's around our age, well-dressed, with good posture and a relaxed expression. He's watching me cross toward the table with what I can only describe as professional interest. I don't know who he is or why he's here, but I know I don't love it.

Greeting everyone. Jace and Ethan stand. I grab Knox's hand, and pull him into that quick half-hug before breaking apart. Then, do the same with Jace. They both pat my back as if to say, we got you, don’t worry.

I pull up a chair beside the mystery guy, as close to Emma as I can get.

Emma says, "You made it," like it was ever in question.

"You told me to be here," I say, smiling at her.

"Knox, this is Marcus Reed," she says, and gestures to the unfamiliar man. "He's a theater major. We have two classes together."

"Knox Carter." I offer my hand.

Marcus shakes it with a firm, warm grip and holds it just a half-second longer than standard. "I've heard a lot about you," he says.

"Good things, I hope."

"Always," he says, and smiles, and releases my hand slowly.

Something about the smile bothers me. I can't name it yet, so I just pick up a menu.

The table settles into the easy noise of a Saturday night out, everyone talking in the overlapping way that happens when a group knows each other well enough. Everyone has a beer glass in front of them, and there are two pitchers in the middle. Emma slides a full glass towards me.

Jace is telling Rory something, and she's trying not to laugh. Sienna and Ethan are doing their thing, which is sitting close together and talking quietly while pretending they care that anyone else is with them. Emma is talking to Paige. I'm watching Emma, because I always watch Emma, because I've been watching Emma since our first year of college and I've stopped pretending I'm not.

She looks good tonight. She's in something dark and fitted, hair down, and she keeps almost looking at me and then looking at something else, which I find both encouraging and interesting. Thoughtlessly, I sip my drink and try to calm my nerves.

Marcus is already turned toward Emma, both forearms on the table, leaning in like whatever she has to say is the only thing worth hearing in the room.

"Alright, so I was telling you about the performance, and I'd just gotten to the good part… where he falls off the stage," he's saying to her. "Emma, I promise you, the entire front row just watched it happen like it was in slow motion."

Emma laughs, loud and genuine. "He didn't!"

"He absolutely did. Full commit, all the way down." Marcus demonstrates with his hand, a slow diagonal descent, and Emma covers her mouth and laughs harder, and his shoulder presses against hers while she does it.

I pick up my drink again.