Chapter Eleven Evan
I’ve been staring at the ceiling of my hotel room for the last four hours and I still can’t sleep.
After the mixer, I went straight back to my room, showered and read for a while. I thought after I got a few chapters down, naturally I’d fall asleep. But that didn’t happen. Instead, I’m left trying to pinpoint the exact moment I became an anxious, uptight, stressed mess.
I know I should go to the bar and socialize. It would be a step toward really throwing myself into college life, and getting back in with B&Co. My dad’s been checking in on me every week, subtly asking me what I’ve been up to and if I’ve done any real socializing.
But I don’t do bars. I don’t do parties.
The mixer earlier was tough, but it wasn’t too bad being with Scarlett.
She took the lead on a lot of things, making it easier for me to focus, but it’s still taken me all this time to self-regulate.
I’ve gotten so much better at masking over the years.
It’s easier to pretend that germs and disrupted plans don’t bother me as much when I’m around other people.
I’m good at pretending I’m like them. That I can be a regular guy and experience the world just like everyone else does.
Deep down, I know that I’m different. I’ve known that since I was a kid, and my mom did nothing but remind me how difficult it was to raise me. But I’m past that. I’m better now.
So why can’t I just get out of this room and have fun tonight?
I flip over my pillow to the cold side, fluffing it until I’m satisfied, and lie back down. I just need to keep still. Maybe then I’ll get bored of my own thoughts and finally get to sleep.
Just as I close my eyes, my phone rings on the bedside table. I consider ignoring it before I see the unknown caller ID. I swipe answer, holding my phone to my ear, waiting for the person on the other end to speak first.
“Evan?” the voice asks, and it takes a few seconds for me to recognize who it is.
“Tiffany? Is everything okay?” I ask, rubbing my hand against my forehead.
“It’s Scarlett.”
My heartbeat picks up in my chest, a tight, achy feeling weighing down on me. “What happened? Is she okay?”
Tiffany sighs on the other end, and the loudness of the bar around her is muffled like she’s moved to a quieter place. “She’s . . . fine, I think. Just very, very drunk. I thought you were here with her, but you’re not and she’s refusing to talk to anyone.”
“What? Why?”
She sighs again. “She got into an argument with Michaela and they kind of blew up at each other. They both said some pretty nasty stuff and Michaela left, but it doesn’t look like Scarlett’s going anywhere.”
I pinch my eyes tight, trying to make sense of this.
Scarlett Voss arguing isn’t new. But that’s usually something she does with me in a classroom, not with anyone else. Especially not in public. “I don’t know,” Tiffany continues, “I’m worried about her, but she won’t speak to me, so I thought you’d . . . you know.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
She lets out a sigh of relief. “Thanks. I’ll text you the address.”
I hang up the call and stare back at the ceiling.
I can’t believe how quickly I agreed to that, and how am I even going to make it into that bar without panicking. But I have to. I’ve done it before, and it didn’t kill me.
I can do this. I’ll be in and out. I’ll find her, take her back to her room and then I can be alone again for the rest of the night.
It’ll be easy.
The bar isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
It’s like every bar I’ve seen—sticky high tables covered in coasters and abandoned glasses, loud pop music bouncing off the walls—and it’s full of people from all the colleges that attended the mixer. It’s Halloween weekend, so there’s a few people dressed up in costumes too.
I pull my hoodie up over my head, dipping it slightly as I make my way through the crowd.
I breathe in and out slowly.
Inhale.
Hold for three.
Exhale.
I make my way toward the makeshift dance floor, finally lifting my head when there’s a clearing.
And then I see her.
I can’t tell if it’s just the lighting or if my eyes are making it up, but I swear, even though she’s drunk, Scarlett is glowing.
A golden pool of light spills over her entire body.
Her dark hair shines, pink lips set in a soft smile.
Her hands are in the air as she dances, her eyes closed, and her head tilted back slightly.
She sways in time to the music, her hair sticking to her forehead in a perfect, messy way.
She looks so soft. Unreal. Like something I’m not allowed to touch or even look at. She’s the sound caught between notes on a piano. Something delicate and beautiful that can’t be replicated.
“Hey, you made it.”
It’s only then that I realize her eyes have opened and I’m standing right in front of her. I don’t want to stop looking at her. Can’t.
I swallow. “Tiffany called me to come get you. She said you weren’t doing good.”
Her eyebrows furrow and I shouldn’t find it so adorable, but I do. “Why? Am I being too loud?”
“Something like that.” She nods, but she doesn’t stop dancing to the music, her arms swaying by her side now. I step a little closer to her, leaning in so she can hear me, and I ask, “What happened, Scarlett?”
She scoffs. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I would. That’s why I’m here.”
I lean back so I can see her better, but her eyes wander around the room. “Michaela was trying to pick a fight with me,” she says quietly. “She was making fun of my family and making comments about me and the past, and I freaked out on her and she left.”
“Did you slap her?”
Scarlett’s eyes shoot to mine. “No, Evan, I didn’t slap her.”
“Just me then.”
She glares at me, and I bite back a laugh. Her face softens slightly and my fingers brush against her hip bone. I can’t tell if it relaxes her or makes her feel worse, but she doesn’t move out of my grip yet.
“I think everyone here hates me,” she mumbles.
“Shut up,” I say, laughing.
Her nose scrunches. “No, they do, and—”
“Shut up, Scarlett,” I say again, my voice a little softer this time. “No one here hates you. They just don’t know you. You don’t let anyone know you.”
Her eyes stare into mine and I can’t look away. I don’t want to look away.
I might know how to get on her nerves by spending enough time with her in class, and knowing about her family, but even I don’t truly know her.
Not the same way her friends do. I’ve come close to getting information out of her like I have tonight, but I don’t know Scarlett any more than she knows me.
But I want to. And surely we’re getting past our whole bickering thing now.
“Well,” Scarlett starts, hiccupping, “since you’re here, I think you should dance with me.”
She tries tugging on my arms, but I don’t budge, and it only makes her stumble slightly.
I reach out for her before she can fall, wrapping my arm loosely around her waist until she stands upright.
Her skin is so warm beneath my hand. Usually I’d want to pull away, but I don’t.
I just apply a little more pressure, holding her tighter until I feel better and she relaxes into my touch.
Big brown eyes stare up into mine and her palms fall flat against my chest.
My breath catches. “I think we’re kinda becoming friends,” she whispers.
“You do?”
“Yeah . . .” She rolls her neck, avoiding my eyes again. “You sat with me on the bus, you helped me with Richard, you came here because Tiffany called you . . . I think you like me, Evan Branson.”
I swallow, looking down at her. “You do, huh?”
“Mmhm. I don’t think you want to . . . but you do.”
“Is that right?”
Scarlett grins. “It’s so right that you can’t even deny it.”
I open my mouth to say something, tell her how much I don’t like her, but it’s just not true.
I’ve always liked her. Always thought she was the smartest person I know.
I’ve admired her from afar for years. But since she’s adamant about extending our families’ rivalry to us, I’ve been playing along, figuring it was easier to pretend I don’t like her than admit the truth.
“I think you should get back to your room,” I say finally, letting out an unsteady breath.
Scarlett shakes her head, stepping back from me. “I think you should dance. You came all the way here.”
“Scarlett—”
“Come on. This song is right up your alley.” She reaches for my arms and shakes them. Again, I stand still, trying to hold my ground.
“Scarlett, you should—”
Before I can finish my sentence, she lets go of my arms and drops to her knees as she throws up on the floor.
She just about misses my clothes and shoes, and I’m grateful for it, despite the way my heart races in my chest. The dance floor clears slightly, and I have to take a deep breath and close my eyes for a few seconds to steady my breathing.
This is fine. This happens all the time. It’s not a big deal.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, taking in another deep breath, when Scarlett stands again, wiping the side of her mouth. “Come on, let me take you home.”
She steps away from me, walking to the nearest table to grab a napkin. I follow behind her. “No. I’ll get a cab. I-I can take care of myself,” she says with her back to me.
“I know you can, but right now, you’re going to let me help you.
Okay?” Her back is still to me, and I watch as her shoulders drop with a sigh.
I rest my hand on her shoulder, swiping my thumb against her shoulder blades.
I lean in slightly, just enough that my breath brushes against her ear. “Okay?”
She sucks in a sharp breath before she finally turns to me. “Fine. Whatever. Do your worst.”
It’s a struggle, but I manage to bring her back to the hotel in one piece.
The elevator doors ping at the floor that our college has booked out and I walk out first, Scarlett quiet behind me. She’s not spoken much since we left the bar, and I’ve been trying my best not to upset her more than she already is.
“What room are you in?” I ask.
She closes her eyes tight, shaking her head. “It’s soooo far away.”