Chapter Twelve Evan
Evan:Are you going to be in class next week?
Scarlett:Obviously.
Evan:Can you cover for me? I’ve got an event in Boston I need to attend.
Scarlett:What do I get out of it?
Evan:The satisfaction of doing something good . . . ?
Scarlett:Not good enough.
Evan:If you do this for me, I’ll help you with your list.
I set my phone down on the bedside table, watching the three dots appear and disappear.
It’s been a week and a half since Scarlett fell asleep in my hotel room.
I’ve seen her in two classes since then and I can’t help but think she’s ignoring me.
I don’t regret helping her. I don’t regret getting out of my head and going to the bar when it was the last thing I wanted to do.
But something tells me I shouldn’t have let her fall asleep on my bed.
I should’ve woken her up and walked her to her own room.
But I didn’t. I sat there, quietly in the chair, only stirring whenever she moved to get comfortable again.
In the morning, all she did was glare and scowl at me before rushing out to her room. She didn’t sit next to me on the bus to the airport, even though I desperately wanted her to make fun of my cassette. Instead, she sat alone at the front of the bus, headphones in her ears.
I don’t know why I care so much. I shouldn’t.
I told her already that it wasn’t a big deal, so why can’t I stop myself from thinking about her?
The way she looked at me in the bar. The star tattoo I saw peeking out behind her ear when I held her hair back.
How she looked in my shirt. On my bed. The way she opened up to me and let her walls down for once.
I’m looping my tie around my neck when my phone pings.
Scarlett:I already told you, I don’t want or need your help.
Evan:I think you do . . .
She doesn’t respond for a few minutes, but I shoot her another text, the real reason why I had her text thread up in the first place.
Evan:Anyway, we need to get started on the presentation. Are you free today?
Scarlett:Yes.
Evan:Perfect. I’ll be at your apartment in 10.
My phone chimes with more notifications from her, but I ignore them.
I know she’s going to try to argue with me about why I’m meeting her at her apartment instead of the library on campus.
I think we both need to get away from that place for a while.
A change of scenery might help clear the air between us.
Just as I expected, Scarlett is waiting in the parking lot of her apartment complex. She’s got a puffer jacket zipped to her chin and a thick scarf wrapped around her neck. She looks adorable, her nose red from the cold and her hands shoved under her armpits.
I step out of my car, leaning against the hood as she walks toward me, each step slower than the last. Her eyes are like daggers, piercing through me as she holds my gaze. I can play this game with her all day.
“Why didn’t you want to meet at the library?” she asks, a puff of cold air coming out her mouth.
“It’s exam week, so it’s going to be extra busy. I found somewhere better for us to go.”
“You couldn’t just send me the address and meet me there?”
“Not exactly.” I push myself up off the hood, rounding the passenger side to open the door for her like the gentleman I am. Her frown deepens. “Come on.”
“I’m not getting in the car with you until you tell me where we’re going.”
I sigh, closing my eyes for a second. “I’m not going to take you to a dungeon and murder you or something.”
“It kind of sounds like you are.”
“I promise I’m not.” I hold up three of my fingers, clapping my other palm to my chest. “Scout’s honor.”
She barks out a laugh. “You, Evan Branson, a Boy Scout? No way.”
I snort. “No, are you kidding? You would’ve had to pay me a lot of money to spend that much time outdoors as a kid.”
Scarlett laughs, and she finally makes her way over to where I’m holding the door open for her. “If you try anything. I’ll—”
“Murder me, yeah, I got it. Just get in the car, Scarlett.”
She makes some sort of angry growling sound at me, and I laugh to myself when she finally slips into the passenger seat. I’m sure she’s grateful for the seat heaters with how cold out it is today, and I turn up the AC a little more just to make sure.
The drive is quiet. A lot quieter than I thought it would be given how much Scarlett usually likes to talk and antagonize me. Smooth R&B music rings through the speakers of the car, just loud enough to mask the sound of my heart beating loud in my chest.
I’m still not fully sure why I’m bringing Scarlett here. I’ve never brought anyone here before. Maybe it’s because I want her to let her guard down with me like she did the other day at the hotel. Maybe showing her some piece of me will get her to trust me and let me help her.
It’s not long before we pull up and Scarlett scans her surroundings, her hand gripping her seatbelt. From where we’re parked, there’s not much to see other than the dumpsters at the backs of the stores that line this part of town.
“You’re not going to see anything unless you get out the car,” I say, unclipping my seatbelt. Scarlett groans before following and I grab my bag from the back seat of the car.
We go through the back door of the bakery at the end of the street, walking through a kitchen bustling with stressed bakers.
The smell of fresh treats invades my senses as an oven door opens in front of us.
We stop abruptly, letting the baker carefully take out the tray of fresh bread before moving toward a worktop.
“What the hell is going on, Branson?” Scarlett seethes in my ear, and I just laugh.
The head chef, Paul, catches my eye and lifts his hand towel in a wave.
He’s a short, big guy who must be in his late seventies by now.
His face is almost always covered in flour and his cheeks pink.
“Evan! You should’ve told me you were stopping by.
I would’ve prepared some scones for you to take home. ”
“That’s okay,” I say, smiling as I push the key into the door that leads to the library. “Next time,” I tell him, but he’s too busy commanding his kitchen again to hear me.
The door opens and I hear Scarlett’s audible gasp from behind me.
The library is quite literally a hidden gem, reserved only for the people that know it exists.
It’s tucked away behind an inconspicuous door, opening to a world of timeless elegance.
It’s breathtaking in a comforting way that reminds me of the days my dad would drop me off here after school to spend time with my mom.
Scarlett does a slow circle, taking in the large room. “Where did you even find this place?”
“My mom built it.”
“Your mom?” she asks, clearly surprised. “I kinda thought you were raised by hellions.”
I clear my throat, guiding us through the shelves toward a private study area.
“She left when I was a kid, but she and my dad worked on this together before I was born. She always thought of expanding it, but after she and my dad split up, she didn’t bother.
So now it’s just used as a quiet place for friends and family to use. ”
I turn around to find Scarlett staring at me, her eyes wide and curious.
We make it to the closed-off room, tucked between bookshelves, the glass ceiling bringing in all the natural light.
“Wow,” Scarlett mumbles, and when I think she’s going to say more, ask more about my mom or what happened, she changes the subject instead.
“So, what are you going to Boston for? Another one of Daddy’s launches? ”
I chuckle, pulling out my laptop from my bag. “No, I’m playing with a band.”
Scarlett’s eyes get impossibly wider. “A band?”
“More like an orchestra,” I explain, and her mouth pops open.
“Jaden Rhodes holds this event every year where he invites people to an industry mixer. He thinks it’s a good way for bigger businesses to interact with the smaller ones and create connections.
My dad has been friends with him for years, and I grew up going to their events.
There’s a live orchestra that plays over a short film they show at the start, and then they play music throughout the night. It’s not a huge event, but I enjoy it.”
Scarlett blinks at me. “And . . . what? You got invited to play because your dad put in a good word for you?”
I laugh. “I’m a good pianist, Scarlett. If you behave, maybe I’ll put on a show for you.” I nod to the locked piano at the other end of the room. I think I still have the key somewhere from when my mom would hold small gatherings here.
Her eyes narrow. “What makes you think I want to listen to you play?”
“You’re not at all curious about my piano fingers?”
She swallows and shakes her head firmly. “Not in the slightest.”
Something about the slight blush that dances on her cheeks tells me otherwise, but I don’t say that. Instead, I slide my laptop onto the table, and pull out my notebooks and pens. Scarlett does the same, but when her laptop opens, she immediately shuts it, glaring at me.
“I have a bone to pick with you,” she says, folding her arms against her chest.
“You do?” I ask slowly. She nods firmly. “Well, you’ve been ignoring me for the past week, so I can’t imagine what I’ve done to piss you off.”
She scoffs. “I haven’t been ignoring you.”
“You have,” I press, and her eyes narrow. “But if it’s any consolation, you don’t need to be embarrassed about what happened in Denver.”
She lets out an incredulous laugh, shaking her head. “Thank you, but I don’t need any consolation, Evan. I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
Something in her eyes flickers and she averts her gaze, but she recovers quickly, clearing her throat and pushing her hair over her shoulder. “You didn’t think to mention that only one of us gets the SEI?”
“That’s what your mad about?” She nods and I tilt my head to the side, scratching my eyebrow. “I thought you knew.”
“If I knew I would have asked Lawrence to switch partners.”