Page 22

22

LANE

“ Y ou’ll catch a cold.” My voice sounds dour as I stand leaning against the island in the kitchen, my arms folded tight over my chest, watching Scarlett and her friend taking pregame shots in the living room before going out.

Scarlett rolls her eyes before they close in a grimace at the shot of whiskey burning down her throat.

But however hot the liquor feels as she swallows, it’s nothing compared to my gaze razing over her. My eyes are so hot as they roam over the skin exposed by her tight, revealing dress that I’m surprised my lashes aren’t being singed off.

“I’ll be fine,” Scarlett says, shaking off the effect of the alcohol. “The club’s just a couple blocks away, and I’m wearing a coat when I’m outside, obviously.”

My brow pulls lower over my eyes. I become aware of just how tight my jaw is clenched. “Still.”

I put myself in the shoes of one of the guys at the club Scarlett and her friend Harper are going to.

Seeing Scarlett with that dress on. How the cut-out design shows off a generous peek of cleavage and a diamond of skin just below her tits that look fucking sinful underneath the fabric. Her bare arms and shoulders, her long and shapely legs, all that glowing skin dotted with artful, eye-catching tattoos.

I imagine what they’re going to think, what they’re going to feel, the fantasies that are going to run through their heads, and suddenly I want to commit multiple felonies.

Since she’s moved in, I haven’t seen Scarlett with any guys. If she’s in the mood for a hookup, she sure as fuck won’t have trouble finding one tonight, not looking like that.

That certainty makes it feel like there’s a tight fist in my chest, squeezing my heart. My face is so tense that there’s a continuous tick at my left nostril.

“Are you feeling left out of girls’ night, Lane?” Harper asks me teasingly. “You seem upset.”

This is my first time meeting Harper. She seems like a pretty cool chick. Responsible. The kind of girl I feel more comfortable knowing Scarlett’s with if she’s going to some meat market packed with horny college guys. Not that Scarlett isn’t responsible. I know she can take care of herself in any situation. But still.

“I’m very upset,” I reply, hoping to shake off my caveman jealousy with some sarcasm, “I don’t handle being left out well.”

“Maybe you can come out with us on the next girls’ night, but you’ll have to wear a dress,” Harper says. Scarlett sputters a laugh into the bottle of water she’s sipping from. I insisted they both hydrate if they were going to pregame.

I grin. “Don’t make an offer you’re not prepared for me to accept.”

Scarlett tilts a wry look at me, her eyes elevatoring up and down my body. “I think that’s a sight a lot of people would pay good money to see.”

Something tells me she’s undressing me with her eyes, and my cock twitches behind my sweatpants.

But just as I feel a swell in my groin announcing an oncoming stiffy, I think back to a couple days ago when we walked back from her pre-law mixer.

How the night ended with her dashing away from me and up to her room, right after I told her I haven’t forgotten a single thing about that summer in Chicago.

The summer that feels like yesterday in my head, so much so that I can still feel the invigorating warmth of the sun on my arms when we sat in the park together, even while we’re deep in the frigid Vermont winter.

I remember the way my chest sank as I saw her hurry away from that admission. It’s enough to divert the blood flow from my dick.

I was stupid to admit that to her. She made it clear back then that she didn’t see anything between us beyond the time we spent together in Chicago. And frankly, it’s just shitty of me to insinuate that I have lingering feelings when we’re living together and she has nowhere else to go.

If I make things weird and uncomfortable between us by opening up about how I really felt, how I really still feel, she’ll have no choice other than to just suffer through it. That’s the last thing I want.

I was dumb to even reference that summer. I can’t make that mistake again.

My attention gets pulled back to the present when the door opens, and Sebastian walks through.

“Back already, Seb?” I ask. “I thought you had a booty call.”

“I thought so, too,” Sebastian grumbles. “But when I got to her room, this chick pulled out a grey wig and wanted me to wear it and pretend to be one of her professors. I didn’t?—”

His voice comes to a screeching halt. His eyes latch onto Harper sitting in the living room. Furrows dig into the skin of his forehead.

“What’s she doing here?” he asks.

My gaze slices between them. “You two know each other?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately.”

Their voices overlap, the effect making them both curl their lips hostilely at the other.

Scarlett looks at me, amusement dancing on her expression. “Yeah, when I invited her over, Harper warned me that she and Sebastian aren’t exactly the best of friends.”

“How did you two meet?” I ask them, my mouth carving with interest.

“Long and unpleasant story,” Harper answers breezily. “Let’s save it for another time.”

Harper gets up from her seat on the couch to pour herself another shot. When she bends over to tip the liquor bottle, I don’t miss how Sebastian’s gaze snaps to her butt, nor do I miss the flames licking in his eyes.

“Sacrificed any puppies lately, Harper ?” Sebastian asks ironically, venom coating his voice when he pronounces her name.

“Written anything lately that wasn’t weighed down by awkward mixed metaphors and stale cliches, Sebastian ?” Harper parries, mimicking his own tone as she spits his name. She throws down the shot.

Sebastian nods to Scarlett. “Make sure you take a couple more shots yourself. You’re going to need them if you plan on spending a whole evening tolerating her company.”

Scarlett crosses her arms challengingly. “Harper and I are besties now, Sebastian, and she’ll be over a lot more often, so you’ll just have to get used to it.”

I stifle a laugh as Sebastian’s lips roll with annoyance.

“You have my number, right?” I ask Scarlett. “In case you need to get in touch for whatever reason?”

I’ve just assumed she still has my number in her phone. We haven’t had a reason to text each other since she’s moved in yet, though. But now that she’s going out, I want to know she’ll have a way to reach me if she needs to. Plus, I want to be able to check in on her if the clock starts to tick into the early hours of morning and she still isn’t home.

“I have a new phone. I lost my last one on that day in …” she shakes her head. “I just lost my last one a little while ago.”

After we trade numbers, Harper pushes up from the couch. “Alright, let’s go, Scarlett. There’s too much testosterone in this room.”

“Don’t wait up, boys,” Scarlett sings as she spears her arms into her coat.

“Be safe,” I tell her. My eyes scrape over her one more time. “And zipper up that jacket.”

“She’s not responding,” I grumble, looking at my phone despondently.

“Duh, she’s out having fun,” Rhys says, basically calling me an idiot with the tone of his voice. “She’s not checking her phone every five minutes for texts from her overbearing roommate.”

“I’m not overbearing and I’m not texting every five minutes,” I respond like a petulant child disputing that he’s six years old because actually he’s six and a half.

“I can’t believe I haven’t met your new roommate yet,” my little sister Maddie says, snuggled under Rhys’s arm. “You guys should throw a little party or something. Get Olivia and Summer over to meet her, too.”

A warm feeling spreads through my chest at the thought. Hudson and Summer. Tuck and Olivia. Rhys and Maddie.

Me and Scarlett.

Then I remember the other night again, how just letting a glimpse of my feelings peek through the cracks for Scarlett to see had her running away from me like I was radioactive.

A sour feeling seeps into my mouth. I toss my phone to the side and try to distract myself from wondering how Scarlett’s night is going by watching the movie that Rhys and Maddie have on.

It doesn’t work very well.

After the movie, Rhys and Maddie head upstairs. I approve of their relationship completely, but I don’t think I’m ever going to totally get used to seeing my sister heading into my best friend’s room for the night.

Without anyone left in the living room to judge me, I pick up my phone and send another text. But before my thumbs move over the screen, a flash of realization hits me. Something Scarlett said right before she left that I’m only picking up on now.

I lost my last one on that day in …

The sentence she trailed off and didn’t complete when she answered about still having my phone number.

What day? Where? When?

A seed of thought sprouts in my brain. Is it possible that her last day in Chicago, she …

I shake the thought out of my head. Now I’m being ridiculous. Clutching at straws. I just told myself that I need to stop dwelling on that summer. The last thing I need to do is make up absurd scenarios in my head that lend me false hope.

I pull up my new text thread with Scarlett and send her another message.

Hey, just checking in since it’s getting late. You guys okay?

This time, text bubbles jump on her side of the screen. A sense of excitement mixed with relief pulses in my chest. Honestly, I should be ashamed of it.

But when her message arrives, and I read it, it’s only white-hot rage that shoots through me.

SCARLETT

Yo, this is Mike. Stop blowing up Scarlett’s phone, dude. She’ll reply after I’m done with her.

My grip clenches around the phone in my hand so tightly that it’s a wonder my screen doesn’t crack. A film of red coats my vision, my throat constricts, and my neck goes stiff as a rod.

Immediately, I press the call button. Before the first ring I’m already on my feet, pacing around, my free hand curled into a tight fist at my side, my knuckles itching to make contact with Mike’s face. More than once.

Scarlett’s phone answers the call, but I don’t hear anything for a second.

“Who’s there?” I grit out, the words coming through grinding teeth. “If this is fucking Mike , I’ll …”

My ear is flooded with laughter.

Scarlett’s laughter. Loud and booming, a full-throttle belly laugh.

“Oh my gosh,” she chokes out. “You actually bought it.”

“Scarlett?” I ask, needing confirmation, even though I couldn’t possibly mistake her voice for anyone else.

“Duh,” she answers, still laughing. “Oh, man. You should’ve heard yourself.”

My chest loosens with a measure of relief, but I still feel edgy and pissed off. “Don’t joke like that.” My tone is humorless.

Hers, however, is swimming in it. “Go find a mirror and tell me how red your face is.”

“I’m glad you’re so open to weaponizing your roommate’s concern for a prank,” I grumble, salty enough to flavor an entire day’s sales of fast-food French fries.

“Aww, you’ll get over it,” she coos dismissively. I can tell from her voice that she’s more than a little tipsy. “Anyway, I’m staying over at Harper’s place. We’re here now. There’s no Mike, or any other guys for that matter.”

I should really be concerned by the amount of relief that sinks into my chest at that last piece of information.

She gives a little giggle. “I only just now saw all the texts you sent. I wasn’t checking my phone when I was in the club with Harper.”

Now that I know she’s fine and I have no reason to worry, I can see that Rhys was right. I was being overbearing. Embarrassment piles on my shoulders.

“Yeah,” I say, running my fingers through my hair and cringing at myself. “Sorry about that.”

“Nah. It was … nice. Sweet. That you cared enough to text that much.”

A light, thrumming feeling floods my chest.

“Can’t promise I won’t do it again next time you go out.” I know I shouldn’t be flirty with her like this, but I’m finding it hard to help it.

I can practically hear her roll her eyes through the phone. “Well, I can’t promise I won’t pull another prank on you if you do.” She giggles again. “You sounded like one of the men in my mafia romance books. Next you’ll be telling guys touch her and you die .”

I let out a chuckle. “Don’t tempt me.”

She breathes out a tired sigh. It’s a swoony sound that slides through my ear and wraps around my heart. “I’m tired. Gonna pass out now. Good night, Lane.”

“Night, Scarlett.”