Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
Scarlett
23 Years Old
The hand pressed against Scarlett’s waist felt like a brand through the thin silk layer of her dress. Five years had done nothing to make her forget the way Colin’s bare skin felt dragging and pressing against hers. Even through clothing, she could feel the whisper of what once had been an imprint. Colin’s fingers were stiff, digging into her side in a way that was just shy of too much, as if he thought she might disappear if he didn’t keep her grounded. But it was the same pressure. The same feeling that flipped in her chest. The same far-off look on his face she knew too well that meant he was concentrating. It was almost painful now not knowing all of his thoughts. To know the shape his face made when he was focused, but to not know why. Their time together all those years ago had been like a crash course on knowing every facet of someone’s being just for them to become a stranger months later. The scars he had left behind were still on her skin—faded in color, but permanent.
Other couples had finally made their way onto the dance floor after a few rounds at the open bar, and it made the night seem significantly more successful. There hadn’t been a chance for Scarlett to examine the auction sheets, but she had been watching donors circle the room with pens in hand. She wasn’t the only one who had put this event on, yet she felt solely responsible for the outcome nonetheless. Dancing with Colin felt like more of an indulgence now than a calculated plan to entice people out onto the dance floor. She had done that already. She had gotten the ball rolling. Yet there she was, still holding on to Colin and swaying to the music when she should be making rounds.
“What are you thinking about?” Colin asked, like the game they used to play when they were younger.
“I’m thinking about how I might have put the wrong color pens down for everyone to use. What if black was the way to go? You always used to prefer black ink. And what if we spent more money on this event than what was donated? What if everyone gets food poisoning? We served salad, and I’m always hearing about recalls on lettuce and random strains of E. coli in stuff like that. Could you imagine the headlines saying that the cancer foundation gave everyone cancer?” She paused only to suck in another breath to keep talking. “I don’t even know if E. coli and cancer have anything to do with each other, but probably giving anyone an illness or a disease is a bad rap for the foundation. Maybe I was seeing things earlier on stage and no one is really enjoying themselves right now. Maybe I should have laid the guilt on more? I don’t really like going about it that way, but donations tend to happen when people have a guilty conscience, right? I don’t know. Maybe this dress is too tight, and I’m overreacting. Maybe this dress is too dressy in general. I said this was a formal event on the invite, but I think there’s a man wearing cargo pants in the corner. Then again, I haven’t seen him in a while, so maybe he was just in the wrong place. Or he’s our biggest donor, and he left because he hates everything about this event.” She jerked her head around, trying to find the long-lost guest again.
“Are you done?” The low tenor of Colin’s voice had a lifted edge to it, and the strange sound of it made her decide to fully look at him for the first time in several minutes. The bastard was actually smiling.
“I’m done,” Scarlett grumbled. She shouldn’t have been speaking all the thoughts that came into her mind like she used to when she was lying in bed naked with Colin anyway, but he brought out this uncomfortable truth in her that she still couldn’t shake. “Sorry.”
“I always like hearing your thoughts, Scarlett. I’m the one that asked, and I’m glad that you told me. I miss you telling me things,” he said. The already spiraling thoughts in her head changed course and curled around her heart. The last part of his response, he had said so softly, almost like he didn’t want to tell her that information but couldn’t help himself. Her emotions warred between wanting to scream into the ether that he didn’t get to miss her like that and begging for him to let her tell him every single tragic thought she’d had since the start of the gala. “I only asked if you were done because I wanted to know if you want me to solve any of those problems or if you want me to just listen.”
That was new. Usually, Colin jumped into an immediate response, categorizing her thoughts into smaller, more manageable pieces. The implausible or completely illogical were debunked with a statistic or two on why they were a non-issue. Most of which she already knew were not logical in the slightest. Then he would parse out the rational bits and find solutions to each one. The eager look on his face made it seem like he wanted to do what he used to do but was holding back for her sake.
“I do know the E. coli bit seems unlikely,” she said. “And maybe if someone is that particular about blue or black ink, then they should probably carry their own pen.”
Colin bobbed his head. “I keep a black pen with me because I like black ink, so if someone wasn’t prepared, I think that’s on them. I like that you run the charity off of integrity and real experiences. You’re honest, and you don’t intentionally make people feel guilty. The cargo pants man is a plus-one for one of the lab assistants from my lab. They met on a dating app, and since my coworker is still here and the cargo pants man seems to no longer be in attendance, I don’t think the date went well. Probably because he showed up to a formal event in cargo pants. Your dress…” He paused and looked down past her face. His eyes drank in her body in a way that felt all too much like the way he used to peruse her outfits when she would self-consciously ask. It wasn’t the usual way men would casually glance up from their phones and give women placating answers. Colin looked , and he never paid a compliment he didn’t mean. “You’re the most beautiful person here.”
“So the dress is bad?” She raised her eyebrows.
“On the contrary. It accentuates your best features.”
“Which are?” Scarlett egged him on, and she had no idea why she was goading him. It wasn’t like Colin had ever faked being physically attracted to her, but for some reason she felt like playing with fire tonight.
“Your breasts, obviously. They’ve always been fantastic, but they’ve only gotten bigger, so that’s a nice surprise.” The way that he said it with a completely straight face made Scarlett let out a loud cackle that she quickly muffled with her hand to her mouth and her forehead to Colin’s shoulder. When she finally peeked back up at him, there was a smile pulling on his lips, making his frustratingly handsome face look even more so.
“I probably should have guessed that,” she said through another laugh. “I don’t suppose you stopped being a boob man.”
“Do you want to hear the rest of my list?” Colin asked.
“Do I want you to continue to compliment me?” Scarlett pretended to consider it. “That would be a huge hardship for me.”
“Oh, okay,” Colin said quickly.
“Sarcasm,” she explained. “Please, tell me. Did Johns Hopkins bring out your inner foot fetish?”
He shook his head. “I am still not into feet. I think my newest favorite is this.” His hand left its spot on her waist and traveled up her left arm, where the watercolor flowers stretched across her skin. Every place he touched felt like a fire scorching her. “Walker’s tattoos are all dark and black. I like that yours are colorful and bright.”
“Yours is also black,” Scarlett noted. She hadn’t seen him much since the fire and the shirtless cat incident, but the image was burned into her retinas. It wasn’t exactly an unwelcome image anymore, either. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of Colin marking himself with her, because if she was going to have permanent mental scars from him, the least he could do was ink their time together onto his body.
“My dad said that when he and my mom were dating and he was too poor to buy her flowers, he’d pick wildflowers. That’s what this reminds me of.” Colin held her arm and turned it from side to side to look at all the flowers.
“That’s a lovely thought.” She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but her voice had transitioned into something softer and more intimate. Their positioning and hushed tones would seem like a lovers’ conversation to any outsider. They were still swaying to the music, but Colin had stepped closer to her, pulling her in so her head was right beside his shoulder, and she could smell the light, sweet, honey scent of his skin. It wasn’t overly fragrant, but a calming smell she always loved. She had never asked him what kind of shampoo or soap he used when they were together, and the urge to ask him now felt dangerous. Too risky. There should be no good reason for her to want to know that information.
“Your eyes are also very pretty,” he finally murmured into the shell of her ear.
“You never look at my eyes,” she argued.
Colin hummed introspectively, “I don’t like eye contact, but it doesn’t mean I don’t look at your eyes when you’re not looking at me. They’re green, with a ring of copper around your pupils.” He reached up and swiped his fingers over her forehead, adjusting her hair and sweeping a long strand out of her face. “Your bangs are cute, too. They frame your face well.”
“Hm.” Scarlett bit her lip. She knew all too well she should stop this conversation in its tracks, but Colin ended up doing that for her.
“What’s left of your worries? Donations outweighing the costs and people enjoying themselves?”
After where the conversation had ended up, Scarlett had completely forgotten about her list of anxieties. She had forgotten about anything other than Colin and was almost surprised to find they were still on the dance floor and there were other people dancing around them. Pulling back a bit to right herself from what must have been a too-intimate embrace with her ex, she cleared her throat and gave a jerk of her head. “Yes.”
“I’m a donor, and I’m enjoying myself,” Colin said.
“I don’t think you dancing with me counts as fun.”
“I never got to dance with you at prom. This is quieter than that, and I get to be close to you, so I think it counts as fun.” The thumb he had pressed into her side started making sweeping circular movements.
“We did dance at prom,” Scarlett carefully side-stepped his comment.
“Barely. It was too loud, remember?” he asked, as if she could ever forget that night. The night that he had lied. The night that he had told her everything she wanted to hear, and she had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.
“Yeah.” She swallowed. “I remember. Do you remember how you punched Piper’s ex in the face, and then we…”
“The hotel room,” Colin murmured, eyes sparkling when she looked up at him. “I remember everything, Scarlett.”