Chapter 14 Scarlett
SCARLETT
Cross grabs a hold of my arm and drags me over to another door. “Let’s go.”
I huff and try to tug out of his grip. “Go where?”
The door opens, and instead of the noisy crowd appearing, it’s a long dark hallway. Cross glares at me over his shoulder. “To get the money to pay off your boyfriend,” he hisses.
I jerk on my arm again, but Cross keeps pulling me behind him. “He isn’t my boyfriend,” I stress.
He rolls his eyes. “Ex-boyfriend, then.”
“He’s not even an ex-boyfriend!” My voice echoes against the walls and follows us all the way out to the back parking lot.
Cross spins me around, his grip on me still tight against my arm. “Then what is he?”
My mouth clamps shut, teeth clattering against one another. Cross raises an eyebrow. His swollen cheek bone is bruising, and there’s dried blood on his lip. I move my eyes back and forth between his as he waits for me to answer, but I don’t.
I can’t.
Eventually, he rolls his eyes and continues pulling me over to his car. I try to put the brakes on, but it’s no use going up against Cross.
“What about my phone?” I ask as he angrily opens the passenger door.
He pushes me inside. “Tyler will get it.”
“And what about–” The door slams in my face, and I growl.
As soon as he’s settled in the driver’s seat, I continue. “What about Sawyer? I came here with her. She’s going to wonder where I went.”
Cross floors the pedal, and we zip out of the parking lot. “Tyler will get her too.” He glances at me, and his mouth flattens. “Put your seatbelt on.”
I do as he says, though it nearly kills me.
It takes us no time to get back to the house. I put my hand on the door handle when the car is in park, and he snaps his attention over to me so quickly the air moves.
“Stay here.”
I cross my arms. “I’m not a dog!”
His eyes narrow in the dark. He gets out and slams the door again.
I’m tempted to get out and run, but after seeing Nicholas and learning that he’s so close, I’m more afraid to do that than stay in this car with my broody stepbrother, whom I’ll now owe twenty thousand dollars.
When Cross gets back in the car, the silence is nearly deafening. He drops a thick, padded envelope on the center console. It’s folded in half and secured with a rubber band.
His hands, still wrapped around the knuckles from his fight, grasp the steering wheel. Wordlessly, we head back the way we came.
The closer we get to the warehouse, the more nervous I am. My fingers tremble so much I’m forced to tuck them underneath my legs.
Gravel crunches beneath the wheels as Cross comes to a stop, putting the car in park, and if I weren’t here an hour prior, I never would’ve believed there was an elaborate fighting scheme. The warehouse is desolate now, the crowd leaving without a trace.
More silence stretches between Cross and me, and I refuse to look over at him.
I hate that he's privy to something so personal in my life and that I owe him. But there’s also a small part of me that’s full of gratitude, because he’s willing to part ways with his money just to banish Nicholas from my life–if he sticks to his word.
I can only imagine what that video shows of me in a drunken state, drugged from something he slipped me.
My stomach churns at the thought.
I pull my hand out from beneath my lap and wrap it around my torso, slumping forward slightly to ease the nausea.
Cross shifts beside me, and I glance at him out of the corner of my eye.
That’s all it takes for him to break the cold silence. “So that’s your type? Rich pricks?”
He strikes a nerve, a gasp dropping from my mouth. I snap my attention to him, and as much as I want to blurt out the truth, I choose indifference instead. He knows more than enough about me at this point. He isn’t getting anything else.
“Everyone is rich at Yale,” I quip.
He snorts and adjusts himself again in the driver’s seat. A wince digs into the shadows across his face, and for a split second, I feel bad. The fight was short-lived, but Nick got a few hits in. With every right hook to Cross’s jaw, my heart would skip a beat.
“Do you know what video he’s referring to?” he asks.
My spine straightens. I bite into my bottom lip to keep it from trembling with fear, or maybe anguish? Probably both.
Nicholas took a part of me that I’ll never be able to get back. As much as I don’t want to let his actions ruin that zest of life that ran within, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust another person as much as I blindly trusted him.
“You do know,” Cross says quietly. “I can tell by your body language.”
I look out the window while arguing, “No, you can’t.”
He snorts. “You’re easy to read, Scar.”
I jerk my head over to him, a wave of nausea cresting in my stomach.
He makes a face. “I mean…Scarlett.”
We stare at each other until a pair of headlights comes into view.
My heart races, and I bring my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them.
Cross makes a noise that resembles a low growl before snatching the envelope full of money from the center console.
He holds it tightly in his grip and opens his door.
The cool air swoops into the car, making me tremble even harder.
Loose gravel crunches under his weight, and I move to unclick my seatbelt, but before I can do so, he leans down, and we catch eyes. “Lock the door.”
I furrow my brow. “You don’t want me to go with you?”
A sarcastic chuckle leaves him. “And reward him by letting him look at you again?” His sinful smile disappears. “Lock the door.”
He straightens, but before he can shut the door, I blurt out, “Cross.”
He lowers himself again, his face pulled taut with impatience.
“I’ll pay you back,” I force out.
He stares at me intently then leaves me alone in the car. He strides across the lot with his shoulders straight. I envy his confidence in this situation.
I quickly hit the lock button, checking over my shoulder just in case. There’s no one there. I swivel back just as the passenger door of the other car opens. Cross hands off the envelope to someone other than Nicholas.
The coward is probably inside the car, opposite of ours, with his sights on me. My skin crawls.
I slump down farther in my seat, out of view. Cross was right to have me wait here. Even the thought of his eyes in my direction sends me into a complete spiral.
“Why are you so jumpy?” Sawyer asks, her eyes crinkling on the sides with suspicion.
“Me?” I ask, playing stupid. “I’m not jumpy!”
Sawyer snorts. “You’ve been beady-eyed since we got here.”
I glance around the dining hall, bypassing several faces I saw the night of the fight. It’s packed with students talking to their friends over cereal and eggs, drinking stale coffee in between rubbing the sleep from their faces. How many of them were rooting for Nicholas? How many of them know him?
“I just recognize some faces from the other night.”
It’s not a lie.
But it’s not really the truth either.
I am beady-eyed, but I can’t tell Sawyer the real reason I’m on edge. Ever since my run-in with Nicholas, I’ve been on alert. My body has been in fight-or-flight mode for the past several days, and I swear someone is following me.
As if on cue, Cross comes into the dining hall with his backpack slung over his shoulder, wearing his bruises loud and proud. We immediately lock gazes. I turn my back to him, annoyed that he keeps appearing out of thin air.
I mean, we live with each other, so passing by him in the kitchen makes sense. However, I’ve found him lurking outside my classes multiple times this week. Sometimes, he’s with a group of his lacrosse friends, and other times, his arm is slung over some girl’s shoulders.
Either way, I keep catching him in my proximity, looking in my direction.
“Come on.” I gesture to Sawyer. “The coffee cart has better coffee.”
I toss our to-go cups of coffee in the trash and walk in the opposite direction of Cross and his friends.
“Two coffees, one with cream and sugar, and one with only cream,” I say.
Sawyer tries to step in front of me to pay, but I beat her to the punch.
“You know, I’m fine with paying for our coffees every once in a while too.” She elbows me.
I smile. “You can get the next one.”
To be honest, I should let her get the next one—since I owe my stepbrother twenty thousand dollars.
“Oh shit,” she blurts. “I’m going to be late for class.”
Sawyer pushes her phone into her back pocket and gives me a quick hug. “Text me later!”
Then she’s off, half-running down the sidewalk toward the science building.
I laugh, until it’s cut short when I hear a deep voice behind me.
“You just want a black coffee?” the barista asks. “Nothing in it?”
“Just black,” Cross repeats.
I turn and gape at him, and sure enough, he’s leaning on the coffee cart with one elbow, staring directly at me.
“Are you following me?”
He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he just stares, expressionless.
“Do you need something?” I ask, popping a hip.
The barista hands him his coffee, and he takes it before giving him a nod of gratitude.
“I sent your last assignment to your email,” I stress. “So I don’t owe you anything. Why do you keep following me?”
Cross takes a long sip of his coffee, his throat moving with a swallow. He pulls the cup from his mouth, and my stomach slips when his tongue jolts outward to lick his bottom lip. I’m suddenly flushed. I pull my hair to the side, letting the cool air rush to my warm neck.
“You don’t owe me anything?” He hums. “I disagree.”
I pull my phone out of my pocket and check my email. “I swear I sent your assignment–”
“You did,” he interrupts. “I got an A.”
I pull my gaze toward him, and a sly smirk is waiting for me.
“You do still owe me, though.” His head tilts. “Remember? Starts with a two…four zeroes following it?”
My shoulders suddenly feel heavy, like bricks are resting on top of them.
“I remember.” I take a sip of my coffee, hoping it’ll burn my tongue so I have an excuse not to talk to him.
Cross eyes me closely. His dark eyes drive so deeply into mine I’m afraid he can read all my thoughts. My heart beats loudly inside my ears, and the only thing that breaks our stare-off is the clearing of a throat.
I jerk backward, my coffee spilling from the top of my cup.
Tyler is standing in between us, eyeing us both with confusion. I panic and turn away from them both. I hurry off toward my next class, and I’ll be looking over my shoulder yet again.
But I’m not sure who I’m expecting to see more: Cross or Nick.