7. Scarlet
7
SCARLET
TWO YEARS LATER
L ife is not like a box of chocolates, or however that quote goes.
It’s like a dumpster that’s on fire, chasing you down the street, but the street is downhill, and you have no shoes on.
Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but the past two years have been an endless roller coaster that I can’t seem to get off.
Two years later, and everyone still believes Ren is the bad guy, that he’s out for blood, hiding, waiting for the perfect moment to attack, but I still find it in my heart to believe he’s a good guy.
I haven’t seen him, at least truly seen him, or talked to him since the night of my sixteenth birthday. He broke his promise to me. He never showed on my seventeenth birthday, which was disappointing. I wanted to believe he still wanted me, but I had no way of knowing.
My heart craves him, even after all this time, and I’m holding on to the hope that he will find a way to see me so we can figure out a way to make our relationship work. It’s stupid, but I can’t let it go. I feel him here, but at a distance, and I can’t live the rest of my life like this.
I’ve already waited long enough. I need to force his hand.
“What are you doing?” Tessa’s playful voice enters my ears, and I find her eyes in the mirror.
Dammit. I was spacing out again.
That happens often—in class and during conversations. My mind is always somewhere it doesn’t need to be. I’m thankful the year is ending. MIT isn’t for me, and I need to break the news to Tessa, but I will save that for another night. Tonight we are going to the end-of-year bash.
The theme: costume party.
“Finishing up my makeup.” I smile back, adding some gold shimmer to my left eye. I can feel Tessa assessing my costume, her gaze lingering. It is a little on the short side and definitely tighter than it needs to be, but I’m a big girl.
“You’re aware you’re not really an angel, right?” I catch her grinning at me in the mirror.
“And you’re aware you’re not really a butterfly, right?” I retort, cocking my head.
Pursing her lips, she flaps her arms, imitating a butterfly. “Don’t tell me what I can be.”
We both giggle, and I finish adding the final touches to my makeup. Looking in the mirror, I adjust my halo, which hangs a couple of inches above my head, secured with a headband.
I curled my hair earlier and am wearing a tight white dress with gold accents. I look innocent and sweet. I’m hoping that appeal will bring Ren out of hiding tonight. That is if he’s been the one following me all along. It could’ve been one of my father’s many bodyguards, but that isn’t likely.
They are there to protect us, and in no way, shape, or form would one of them dare to cross the line. Loyalty is huge to my father; he’d not only kill them but refuse to offer their families protection.
Thinking of them makes me pause, but not for long. This is hardly the first party we’ve snuck out to this year, and there’s never been a problem. It’s easy, really. If you understand the men tasked with protecting you are also creatures of habit. They have a schedule they follow day in and day out.
I check the time on my phone before slipping it into a small gold clutch.
“T-minus three minutes,” I announce, which Tessa knows is code for getting her ass in gear. We only have a small window while the men switch shifts at ten sharp. It has to be the most boring job in the world, sitting in front of an apartment with nothing to do but wait for danger to present itself.
If they’re lucky, it never does, which means spending hours bored out of their mind. Then again, my father pays them well.
And there are worse ways for a man to earn a living.
With all the caution of a couple of spies on a mission, Tessa and I hover by the front door. I open it no more than a crack, peering out into the hall. As always, music comes from at least one or two of the other apartments on this floor, overlapping TV shows and movies, with muffled conversations.
The difference?
The absence of the man whose job it is to sit outside the door. They don’t always stay put—they walk the halls rather than stay in one place for hours on end. Sitting still would drive me mental, so I understand.
After one glimpse, I find the hall empty, so I wave Tessa on behind me. We slip out, darting to the nearest stairwell, giggling softly like we’ve just broken some unholy rule.
While I won’t miss much about my experience here at MIT, I will miss this. The fun we have together, sneaking around, laughing about nothing important.
It’s two floors down to the ground level, where a keypad is mounted to the wall beside the door leading to the parking lot. My father insisted I stay in the most secure building on campus, and I can’t pretend it isn’t reassuring to know we have to enter a code to go in or out. Even if that little fact makes it less likely that Ren will be able to make secret visits.
Though if he could so easily sneak in and out of my father’s compound without so much as stepping on a creaking floorboard to give himself away, I’m sure learning a code isn’t beyond his skills.
I’m grasping at straws. It’s pretty pathetic.
The sense of freedom I feel stepping outside brings the same rush of relief it always does. I’m grateful for my father’s insistence on my safety, but at times, it’s hard to breathe with the sense of someone looking over my shoulder with every step I take.
Not somebody who I want to be looking after me, either.
As we walk away from the apartment building and cross the street, I scan the area around us. A matter of habit, yes—I’m still a Rossi, and I’ve heard too many stories over the years to ever completely let my guard down. Even if I wasn’t a Rossi, I’m still a girl walking the streets at night.
That’s dangerous enough, sadly.
Tessa gives voice to my initial impression of the other students wandering the sidewalks. “It’s like Halloween with all these costumes.”
Yes, and some people took the theme seriously. There’s a guy walking around in a crazy outfit that I know has something to do with a sci-fi movie, but they’ve never been my cup of tea, so I can’t put my finger on it.
“Predator,” Tessa says before calling out to him. “Super detailed. Way to commit.” She gives him a thumbs-up, which he returns.
For the most part, though, everybody seems to have used this as an opportunity to wear as little as possible. There’s a lot of skin showing, at least when it comes to the girls.
“And you thought my dress was short?” I whisper to Tessa, whose eyes widen when three girls saunter our way dressed in ass-skimming, sheer nighties and fuzzy mule slippers.
“We almost look overdressed,” she frets, chewing her lip once they walk past, earning honks from a passing car.
“Nah, we’re fine. Look, there’s a cowgirl and a baseball player,” I point out, gesturing toward the house where the party’s being held, a block off-campus. People hang out on the lawn and the front porch, vaping and drinking from plastic cups as purple and red lights flash from the windows.
“When you grow up, you don’t have many chances to dress up like this,” I muse, glancing over my shoulder.
Is it because I expect to see Ren’s dark jacket, or because I want to?
It doesn’t matter because he’s nowhere to be found.
“We slipped them. Don’t worry about it.” She’s so touchingly innocent, thinking I’m worried about escaping the security guards.
“I’m sure you’re right.”
Ren. Your angel is looking for you.
I’ve lost count of how many times over the past two years I’ve replayed the sound of his voice in my head, the throb in it when he called me angel . His angel. If my costume isn’t strong enough of a signal, I don’t know what is.
Unless I’m completely losing my mind, making things up in my head. I guess that’s possible, as much as I don’t want it to be.
If you think about something long enough. If you believe in it, you might start to think it’s true when really it’s a delusion. If I didn’t feel what I feel in my soul for Ren, I’d believe that thought, but I just can’t.
“Happy end of the year!” A total stranger throws his arms around our necks and pulls us in for a sloppy hug once we enter the noisy three-story house. “We fucking did it!”
“Yeah, we did.” I manage to escape before he grabs my boob, which his hand is pretty close to, and I pull Tessa along with me.
Some people will use any excuse to get handsy. There’s only one person I want to get handsy with. Nobody else will do.
I know Tessa wants me to loosen up and start dating. There are only so many ways to shut the idea down without coming out and admitting the truth—I’ll only ever want one man. The one man I’m never supposed to be with. She would never deliberately rat on me, but she might accidentally let it slip in front of the wrong people one day, and I can’t have that.
So it’s safer for her to think I’m, I don’t know, uninterested.
We stop at the kitchen for beers from the keg before taking a tour of the rest of the party. It’s filling up quickly, so it takes time to elbow our way through the crowd. Usually, kids come in from Boston and surrounding areas on the weekends to party here, but this is a one-off sort of event taking place in the middle of the week. Silly me thought that would make it less crowded. If anything, this is the most packed I’ve ever seen a house party. Everybody wants to let loose now that the last exams are finished.
Tessa recognizes a few people from one of her classes—I can’t hear over the thudding bass blasting from speakers nearby—and gestures for me to follow as she cuts through the crowd to say hi.
It’s not like I have anything better to do, so I trail behind her. Considering the amount of dancing, drinking, and dry humping going on around me, keeping track of her is no easy feat. The scent of so many different perfumes and heavy, cloying body sprays mix with perspiration and spilled alcohol in the air make me as dizzy as I’d be after several more beers.
The back of Tessa’s head bobs up and down but almost disappears when a trio of girls dancing like nobody’s watching just about knock me down.
“Sorry, babe,” one of the girls screams before straightening my halo. “You look hot!”
“Uh, thanks?” She’s already forgotten me, arms thrown over her head as she bounces up and down to the heavy, throbbing beat that reverberates through the floor and up my legs.
It isn’t that I feel above them in any way. I’m fun. I’m just not one of them.
We’re entirely different species. I don’t even know how to fit in.
I’m not actively avoiding making friends. But more like I don’t have it in me to put myself out there. What’s the point of putting in the effort of getting to know someone if they can walk away without a word?
Why open up and make myself vulnerable when I’m clearly not worth sticking around for?
At times like this, it’s enough to take my breath away. When the thought of Ren makes me want to double over and clutch my stomach since I’d swear somebody kicked me while wearing a pair of steel-toed boots.
That’s nothing compared to the very real ache spreading through my chest when I see one couple after another dancing, making out, and clinging to each other. Why can’t I be one of them? Why can’t my life have that?
Is something so wrong with me? Am I that unlovable?
My chin trembles, and tears threaten to blur my vision before I blink them away. It’s all so unfair.
I miss him so much .
I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve asked myself what it would be like to have him with me. Sitting in class, going to a movie, hanging out at home. It doesn’t have to be anything special. His presence is what would make me feel settled.
What I wouldn’t give for his presence now. It’s getting a little too crowded, and my chest is tighter every time somebody jostles me—which is, like, every three seconds. At this rate, I won’t make it until midnight before my brain shuts down from lack of oxygen.
Where is Tessa? Shit, I lost sight of her, and there are so many moving bodies, enough that it feels like walls closing in on all sides. They’re going to crush me—there’s not so much as a gap to escape through.
Breathe. In. Out.
This has to stop. It’s one thing for anxiety to creep in while I’m alone, where no one will see and no one can take advantage if I get woozy. Why don’t I paint the word victim across my ass, passing out in the middle of a crowded college party?
You’re a Rossi, dammit. Get your shit together.
If only it were that easy. If only I had my brother’s strength. The strength Ren always swore I possessed.
Panic begins to bloom in my chest, and I look around, the dim lighting and endless crush of bodies making it tough to catch sight of Tessa. Where did she go? I call her name, but the damn music instantly swallows up the sound. It’s pounding in my head, threatening to cleave my skull in two.
It’s like living in a nightmare I can’t wake up from. Everywhere I turn, there are more bodies, more people drinking, laughing, dancing, grinding, and making out. They loom over me like blank-faced ghouls, their faces all but obliterated in the darkness, in my confusion.
“Tessa…” I gasp, struggling to sip in enough air through my tight throat so I don’t pass out and get trampled. “Ren…”
I need air. Fresh air. Now. Nothing in the world matters more than getting out of this house. Salvation is outside, and it’s the only hope I can cling to as I throw elbows in an attempt to break out of the tight clutch of costumed bodies trapping me in place.
“Watch it!” a girl shouts close to my face when I hit her ribs. I’d apologize but fuck her. I’m dying. I need to get out of here.
Somebody shoves me hard from behind, and my panic turns to full terror. I barely manage to stay on my feet and avoid getting trampled the way my overworked brain is so sure will happen.
The only reason I don’t drop to my knees is the very tall, very hard body I fall against. A body in a black T-shirt and jeans. It absorbs my weight without so much as flinching.
Not that there’s any time to relax against the broad, firm chest since a pair of large hands close around my biceps and hold on tighter than necessary. Possessively tight. Well, shit. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
My head snaps up, and I’m prepared to thank whoever this is in hopes they’ll let me go, but the fact that I’m looking into an animal mask rather than a normal human face only adds to the sense of foreboding and fear. It takes a moment to identify that it’s a wolf, complete with pointy ears and fake fur. The eyes are black, making it impossible to see the eyes of the person beneath.
“I have to go.” I don’t know if he hears me or not. I can’t hear myself over the cacophony, no matter how much force I put into my screaming. I won’t be able to speak in the morning, and I’m sure I’ll be deaf for a while, too.
I’ve been to arena concerts with my brother that weren’t this loud.
The stranger’s grip tightens, and he begins moving through the crowd much easier than I did, pushing me before him like the blade in front of a snowplow, pushing me back in the direction I just came until he’s wedged me into a dark corner of the room.
“What are you doing?” I shout, but the sound is swallowed up before it gets anywhere. He’s going to do with me what he wants.
And nobody even notices. The bodies close in again as soon as we pass them. It’s a heavy realization that nobody cares. Even Tessa didn’t see us—I can’t see around him and don’t know where she is. Panic bubbles out of me.
I can’t see her, which means she can’t see me, either. This guy is way too big, blocking me from everybody else.
My insides are churning, my body’s shaking, and I’m pretty sure this is what they call fight-or-flight, but it feels like a heart attack. My chest. It hurts so much. Am I dying?
“I can’t…” I can’t even breathe enough to tell this guy I can’t breathe. I’ve never felt this sort of helplessness. The weak little push I give him does nothing but leave him leaning in closer, pressing against me until there’s no moving at all.
He’s going to hurt me, and nobody will know. Nobody will hear me if I scream—if I could scream, which I can’t because I can hardly get enough air into my lungs to stay conscious. His frame is all-consuming. Every self-defense tip I ever heard runs through my head all at once, but there’s no use because I can’t move, much less slam a foot against his instep or drive an elbow into his nose.
His fucking wolf nose.
“I… I…” In a last-ditch effort, the words come out in a tremble. “I’m scared.”
There’s no seeing his eyes due to the mask, not to mention the darkness around us. All I see are two black holes, unnerving me worse than ever.
Did he even hear me?
Suddenly, his hold loosens.
He’s still got me pinned, but instead of gripping my arms like he wants to snap them, he’s merely holding them still. His touch, dare I say, gentle.
Delusions, that’s what I must be experiencing, making it up in my head because I need a grain of hope to cling to. His chest expands slowly in what seems to be a deep breath before he lets it out just as slowly.
Is he telling me to calm down? Demonstrating how to do it? It’s so dark I can barely see him.
Something in me reaches out to that idea and grabs it. He wants to help me. He’s trying to calm me down, just like Ren would.
I must be crazy. Why else does my chest loosen the instant that wild thought flashes brightly in my head? The mere thought of him is the pin that bursts the bubble, leaving me trembling as I begin to breathe deeper than before.
The brick wall in a wolf mask nods slowly, not saying a word—or maybe he is, for all I know. There’s no hearing him over the party. I can’t even read his lips in that mask.
He could take advantage of me, but he hasn’t. I understand now he was only trying to help me. He kept me from falling and pulled me aside to calm down. He’s not trying to hurt me.
Every ounce of intelligence I possess wants me to pump the brakes. Just because he’s not trying to flat-out rape me doesn’t make him a prince. It doesn’t even make him worth knowing.
But…
I’m so tired of being alone.
Untouched. It’s been so long since I was touched, and his hands are trailing up and down my arms, and it feels so good. His masculine scent, cinnamon, and something else I can’t quite make out, makes me want to press my nose to his shirt and breathe him in.
His warmth, his strength, his solid body…
I didn’t know until now just how deep my need runs. The need for connection. For somebody to give a damn again.
I want Ren. I need him. I’m falling apart without him. I can’t even make it through a party without longing for him, without my broken heart crying out for him every time I see a couple together.
I might need him, but it’s clear he doesn’t need me. He never did if he could turn around and essentially abandon me.
I’m going to have to start getting over him eventually. I should’ve started before now, truth be told. I look up at the masked stranger before me, and all I can think is how much I crave something other than loneliness.