Page 105 of Embrace

“I want to spend time with you. You don’t have to dress up, but it’s cold.” I pause, shrugging off my jacket. “Wear this.”

She hesitates, staring at it for a moment. “What about you?”

I point to my thick crewneck. “I’ll survive. So is that a yes?”

Her smile is light and a little shy, but it hits me right in the chest. There’s something almost childlike in the way she nods.

I open the Jeep door and she hops inside. She’s awfully quiet thewhole way there, playing with the ends of her hair. I place a hand over her thigh and she takes it, intertwining her fingers with mine.

When I park in the library lot, Scarlett’s watching me. I lead her out the car and down the familiar path, the one she takes to her secret study room.

“I know I study a lot, but we don’t have to do this on our first date.”

“Just trust me, okay?”

“I always have,” she whispers, more to herself. Then I lead her in front of me, covering her eyes with my palm. We walk through the door and into the warmth of the room.

“If you needed extra tutoring, you could’ve just told me.” I remove my hand and her mouth drops open. “What— You did this?”

After practice, I didn’t have much time to plan something better, something bigger, something she deserves, but I needed to do something.

We’re in her private study room, the big table moved to one side and replaced by two chairs, a table, a candle, and a single rose in the center. My turntable is here, too, music playing softly in one corner.

I got Cole and Sebastian to help me get this place ready, and Summer acted as the manager. She texted me it was done the minute I parked. I was hoping we didn’t run into them and ruin the surprise, but I’m pretty sure they hid behind one of the shrubs along the path.

Scarlett steps farther inside and suddenly she gasps, falling back into me when she notices a guy sitting in the corner playing the harp. “You got a harpist?”

She doesn’t seem too surprised. “That’s my rookie. He’s in the freshman choir. And desperate to get on the first line,” I tell her.

Her chuckle lights me up, and I’m eager to make her do it again.

“You’re good to go, Brett,” I say. “A few more practices and I’ll talk to the coach about bumping you up.”

The freshman’s eyes widen and he gives me a fist bump before he takes his lap harp and heads out the door. Then it’s just me and Scarlett again, and a nervous rush makes my hands sweat. I need this to be perfect for her.

She stares at the fairy lights hanging around the window, looking out into the university. “This is beautiful, Kian.”

I watch her carefully. “Yeah, I know.”

Scarlett turns, walking up to me and pulling me into a hug. The move makes my heart melt like butter. I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her.

“Something” by the Beatles starts to play, and Scarlett sways in my arms. I chuckle, pulling back, taking her arms and sliding them up to my shoulders. She tiptoes a bit, running her thumbs over my ears like she usually does.

We stay like that, dancing in her sanctuary, while I hold mine.

Thirty-six

Kian

My girlfriend isbeautiful in every light, but she’s the most beautiful when she’s coming out of my bathroom, her entire body illuminated by the light.

Okay, technically, she isn’t my girlfriend—we haven’t had that conversation yet—but I’m calling her that in my head. Sue me.

It’s been a few days since our date, but I’m heading out for a game tomorrow, so I’m desperate to get my fill of Scarlett before I leave. She’s been busy at the shelter and with school, so the only time we’ve really gotten together is when it’s time to study. And as I’ve learned, my girlfriend is very serious about keeping our tutoring schedule.

Now Scarlett is fresh out of the shower, her skin warm and pink, her hair damp and carrying the smell of citrus. I insisted that she shower here and not have to go through the hassle of the communal bathroom at Iona.

Her black tank clings to her, and her shorts trace her body in a way her usual clothes hide. But what intrigues me the most is her unguarded softness. Scarlett moves across my room in my fuzzy slippers, putting her glasses on, and falling so easily into the versionof herself that burrows into my chest. It’s her in-between moments when I start to memorize her, music playing in my head like she’s a scene from my favorite film.