Page 108 of Embrace

“That also meansyouwere up late, Si,” I say. “How many hats did you knit this time?”

She shrugs. “Let’s hang out tomorrow. It’s been a while.”

“Tomorrow,” I agree.

The moment I hear her leave from the front door, I spring out of bed to pluck my phone from where I left it last night. A dark feeling sinks into my stomach when I have no messages.

As I attend my classes for the day, I only feel worse. I find myself looking into every mirror I pass, like I’ll find something there that would explain Kian’s silence.

I’m running on pure irritation when I walk all the way past campus to the numbered streets, straight up the porch steps of the hockey house, and bang my fist against the door.

Cole opens it, and his brows pitch upward when he sees me. His blond hair is neatly combed back, and he’s got a towel around his waist that’s very short and could probably slip off with just a strong breeze.

Cole stands there awkwardly. “By the way, about the kiss—”

“It meant nothing,” I interject.

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Yeah? Okay. Cool! ’Cause Kian keeps glaring at me. So, if I happen to go missing…”

“Right. Is he home?”

“Nah, but you can wait in his room until he’s back.”

Here I was thinking he’s sitting in his room ignoring the half-naked pictures of me in his messages. He’s probably studying or at the gym.

Now I’m not even sure what I wanted to say to him.Tell me I’m pretty?

I take a step back. “Actually that’s okay. And no need to mention that I stopped by.”

When I turn, my body slams right into a slab of muscle covered by a Dalton Athletics T-shirt.

“Scarlett?”

I think I’m developing a stress rash. “Hi.”

“Come in,” Kian says. A towel-clad Cole stares between us with a level of scrutiny I really don’t need right now.

When we reach his room, his old radio is already going, a country song I don’t recognize playing softly in the quiet.

“Did you see my texts?” I ask immediately.

He drops his stuff on the floor, tosses his keys on his dresser, and finally pulls his phone out and plops it on his desk. “I did,” is all he says.

I nearly sprint to his bathroom and never come out. “Oh. Okay,” I say, already turning away to head out. Well, that didn’t last very long. But I should have expected it.

“Where are you going?”

I pause, unable to look at him. “I’ve got homework and stuff.”

“Can you please sit?” He must see the uncertain look on my face because he gestures to his chair. I don’t move. “You can sit—”

“I can do better,” I blurt out. “If you don’t like them, I can do better. Whatever you would enjoy.” Desperation bleeds into my shaky voice.

His brows knit tightly, and the look is so small and fleeting that I think I imagined it. “Scarlett, please sit down.”

“You don’t have to be nice, I get it—”

“Can you sit down first?” he says, somehow softer this time and it makes me obey.