Chapter Thirteen
Thirteen
Kian
“I look stupid,” Scarlett mutters.
It’s Friday afternoon, and I finally convinced her I’m a great teacher, not that I’ve ever done this before. I hold back a laugh when she pouts, staring at me from under the massive helmet on her head. It’s my hockey visor from junior year, the one I dug out of the garage fifteen minutes ago.
Her hair peeks out from one of her messy braids.
Earlier, when I stopped by her dorm, she was lying on the floor beneath a pile of notes.
She was murmuring definitions under her breath.
The moment I stepped inside, she gave me a look—half Go away, half Save me.
Still, she didn’t say no when I asked her to take a break.
Now we’re both outside the hockey house, standing in the driveway. She’s perched nervously on my old bike, and I’ve got a firm hold on the handlebars because she made me swear I wouldn’t let go.
I reach up and straighten the helmet. “You don’t look stupid. You look brave.”
“Did you read that off a cheesy shirt?” Her eyes widen, and she tilts her chin toward me.
“Nope. If I ever got into a bar fight, you’d be the first person I’d call.”
Scarlett tilts her head. “Knowing you, you’d probably become best friends with the guy trying to punch you before I even showed up.”
I shrug, grinning. “You ready?
“No!” Her hands tighten on the handlebars. “Can we just go to Lola’s? Pancakes on me.”
“On you?” I joke, cringing as soon as it’s out of my mouth.
Scarlett waves a hand like she’s swatting away the moment, then clutches the handlebars again. “Sure. Yeah, that too. I just really don’t want to do this. Please don’t make me do this.”
Her voice cracks slightly, and my stomach pulls tight. She probably doesn’t even realize the way she sounds when she pleads, as if the words were dipped in honey and made just for me.
“One loop around the driveway,” I say softly. “That’s all. Just one.”
Earlier I made sure the guys parked on the street or in the garage so we had more space.
She narrows her eyes. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
There’s a long pause. Then, almost in a whisper, she asks, “Is it left foot first, or right? Wait—how do I stop? Kian, how do I stop?” Panic creeps into her voice.
I crouch down so I’m eye level with her.
“Scarlett. Breathe. Okay? Doesn’t matter which foot. Whichever one feels natural. And if you want to stop, just squeeze the right handlebar.”
Her foot finds the pedal and pushes hard. Too hard. The bike jerks forward and my hands slip. I wasn’t expecting the sudden speed, and before I can grab her again, she’s shrieking.
“Scar!” I sprint after her. The bike tips sideways, wobbling toward the edge of the pavement. I reach her just in time, wrapping both arms around the handlebars from behind and steadying her weight with my chest against her back. We’re both breathing hard, her body trembling against mine.
“I’m gonna die,” she whispers, her eyes squeezed shut.
I rest my chin lightly on her shoulder. “You’re not gonna die. You’re just riding a bike.”
“Same thing,” she mutters. I can feel the way she relaxes when I press a hand on her shoulder.
“You did half the loop,” I tell her. “Want to finish it?”
“Nope.”
“Lola’s, then? They have croffles now.”
She turns her head just enough to glance at me. “Extra whipped cream.”
I help her off the bike, and when her feet hit the ground, she breathes a sigh of relief.
“You okay?” I ask, steadying her.
She pulls off her helmet. “No. But I think I could do anything if you’re with me.”
···
I’m having withdrawals.
The thought of leaving Scarlett this morning didn’t sit right with me. So, now she’s sitting in front of me, sipping on a strawberry milkshake, unaware of the whipped cream that’s found a place on her upper lip.
She chats animatedly about one of her favorite assignments, where she got to volunteer at an adoption center. Hearing Scarlett talk about herself might be my favorite thing. It’s so rare, and whenever she does it, she somehow still makes it about others. It’s fascinating.
I don’t want her to stop because she seems to be on a bit of a high, but I feel a pull to wipe the whipped cream off her lip. Just as I’m leaning forward, about to raise my hand to swipe it with my thumb, the door to Lola’s chimes, distracting me.
Cassie walks in with Cole, the twins clearly bickering over something when they spot us. There’s an awkward energy hovering over the table when they come to say hi.
“What are you two doing here?” Cole asks, sliding into the booth beside Scarlett. He smiles at her, introducing himself, and a small “I know” leaves her lips.
Cassie, on the other hand, stays standing, looking around the place like she’s never been here before. But then I touch her wrist, catching her attention, and those blue eyes land on mine.
“Hey, Cassie.”
A breath of relief leaves her, like she expected me not to talk to her. When I gesture for her to sit, she immediately slides into the booth beside me.
“Hey, I meant to ask if you want to come to Starlight Saturday night. They’re doing a small showcase and I’m singing. The person with the most votes gets a whole week off bathroom duty.” She laughs a little, and I can’t help but remember how light it used to make me feel.
Starlight Karaoke Lounge is where all the music enthusiasts go to eat, dance, drink, and sing their hearts out. We’ve had some fairly good bands play there, and Cassie’s pretty much a regular there on Thursday nights.
I used to go support her sets when we first started hanging out, but then she invited me to come less and less. I think Julia wasn’t comfortable with me cheering so loudly for her.
“We can get a whole bunch of people to attend if you need,” I tell her, looking over at Cole.
He waves a hand. “Don’t even try, man. I told her the hockey team would be there in a heartbeat, but she wants to win ‘fair and square.’ ”
She shrugs. “Seems like an unfair advantage. And besides, I’m inviting you because I want to. We had fun together, right?”
I swallow. “We did.”
“You still up for more? My set isn’t long, we can hang after.” She wears that same look she had the first time she said yes to a date. Is she asking me out?
I glance at Scarlett, who stares at her strawberry milkshake like she’s going to find the answers to her next exam there. “You want to come, Scar? That’s okay, right?” I ask Cassie.
Scarlett’s eyes widen. “Oh, you don’t have to—”
“It’ll be fun,” Cole chimes in, and I don’t love his sudden enthusiasm. “You can hang with me. Like a double date.”
Scarlett coughs, and I immediately hand her the water. I’m glaring at Cole, who still waits patiently for her answer, oblivious as fuck.
“So? You in?” he asks.
Scarlett shakes her head. “I think I’m okay. I have a lot to study.”
Cole shrugs, nodding in acquiescence.
“No, I mean like on dates.” She blushes. “Not my thing.”
The table falls silent, and I hate what the quiet implies. It’s one thing to be her friend, to try to prove that her reputation isn’t as set in stone as she fears. But it’s another to see her hold back from going out at all because of it.
“You’ll have fun,” Cassie chimes in. “Cole’s a complete gentleman, and if he’s not, I’ll kick his ass.”
Cole makes a face, and she smiles. “I can pick you up and drop you home whenever you want.”
“I can take her,” I blurt out on instinct. I’m not sure where it comes from, but I feel the need to establish that. Cole’s not a bad guy, but the thought of them alone in his car just feels wrong. That’s not where she’s supposed to be.
“No, really. I’m okay,” Scarlett says. “I promised Sierra we’d have dinner, anyway.”
Cole changes the subject and starts talking about our first game back, and whether Coach is going to decide who’s going to be captain or if we’re not naming anyone. But I’m barely paying attention to the conversation. I keep glancing at Scarlett, who looks entirely too uncomfortable sitting there.
“Maybe he’ll pull the same move he did freshman year when Aiden wasn’t there for a game. We had what, like, three alternate captains?”
“When did he do that?”
“The game against Brown,” Scarlett says absentmindedly. As if she realized she said it out loud, she straightens. “I mean, it probably was.”
“No, you’re right. It was Brown. I remember ’cause I was dating this girl from there,” Cole says. “You know your hockey, huh?”
She plays with the sleeve of her sweater. “I don’t. I just— That was a guess.”
I laugh. “No way, you’re totally a fan. Have you been watching my old games, Scar?”
She rolls her eyes. “You wish, Ishida.”
“Oh, it’s Ishida now, is it?” I lean in closer, nudging her hand with mine. “Is that the name you’ll have on your back when you come to my game?”
“Depends. How much are you going to pay me?”
“Well, he will be captain then, so you’d be lucky to get a jersey,” Cole chimes in.
“I still have mine,” Cassie says, nudging my arm lightly. I’d nearly forgotten she was there. Hell, I almost forgot Cole was here, and he’s sitting right in front of me.
When I look back at Scarlett, she’s gone quiet. She glances at her phone, looking like she wants to be anywhere but here. Before I can say anything, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I drop a few bills on the table and push out of the booth, making Cassie do the same.
“We gotta go,” I say. “See you at practice, Cole?”
He nods.
“See you Saturday?” Cassie asks, her hopeful blue eyes watching me as her arm brushes my shoulder.
I nod, then extend a hand to Scarlett. “You coming?”
Her expression twists, like she half expected me to just leave her there. The thought makes my chest ache. Scarlett nods, murmuring a soft “Excuse me” as she slips past Cole, who’s smart enough to move without a word.
Once we’re outside, she gently pulls her hand from mine. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone secure a date so fast,” she says as we head toward my car.
I shrug, unlocking the door. “It’s barely a date.”
She shoots me a look. “Oh, it’s definitely a date. She was staring at you like she’d wilt if you said no.”
I laugh under my breath. “Come on, you got a date just as fast as me.”
Scarlett shakes her head, her hair bouncing with the motion. “That was a pity date.”
“Trust me, Scar. A date with you could never be a pity.”
Her lips part like she’s about to argue, but she snaps her mouth shut and turns toward the window. The ride back to campus is silent.