Page 98 of Embrace

She blinks at me. “Ishida? Like the hockey player? As in my boyfriend’s best friend?ThatKian?”

“Also the guy I’m tutoring and mydad’shockey player.”

She cringes ever so slightly before masking the look. “Does your dad know? Like did he see you two making out on the bleachers or something?”

I let out a horrified laugh. “If that ever happened I’d transfer to a new school.”

“Hey! You’re not allowed to leave me,” she says. “So are you into him?”

I shrug. “Does it matter? I told him to forget about this kiss. It’s just—we can’t. I mean, he’s on a date right now.”

Her head tilts. She looks at me like she understands, and I know she does. She’s heard enough lectures from my dad to know how disappointed he’d be.

Sierra sits back again, eating the chocolate in silence. I turn the TV back on.

We’re only halfway into Dale’s report when she speaks again. “You know what? No.”

My brows furrow. “No what?”

“Since freshman year, I’ve seen you do whatever felt good to you. When it stopped feeling good, you did something else. I know you, and I know those hookups were fun, but you never felt anything for those guys. You didn’t want to then, but now when it’s right in front of you, you’re choosing to let it go?”

“It’s not mine to hold on to.”

“Then make it yours.” She sighs. “You’re the smartest person I know, Scar, you should trust yourself more.”

Something pulls me back, like a rubber band snapping from the tension. I try to let her words go, but they don’t sink. They spread through me like oil on water, catching light where I don’t want to look, resurfacing until I’m in my room, staring at the ceiling instead of studying.

It is torture. Finally sick of the torment I’m inflicting on myself, I pack up my stuff on my bed and head to the one place that calms my mind when I’m like this.

I park behind the library and walk through the side entrance, hoping it’s open. When I push, the door gives way and I let out a relieved breath once I’m inside. It’s like a sanctuary, a secret garden, yet it feels coated in memories of study sessions with Kian.

But those memories stay locked up when I open my laptop and focus on the textbook I was reading earlier. I don’t even realize I’ve braided my hair until I’m looking for an extra hair tie I don’t have.

Suddenly, there’s a loud knock on the study room door. The one that’s only accessible from the outside, after a long dark tunnel. I creep toward the door, feeling a chill run up my spine.

Slowly, I turn the knob. The door screeches open, and when the light spills out and onto a tall figure, my breath catches.

Kian stands outside, completely soaked from the rain, one hand shoved into the pocket of his black dress pants, his white shirt sleeves rolled up. The soft cotton strains along his forearms, ink curling out beneath the fabric, veins trailing down the ridges of muscles like a road map I shouldn’t know so well.

My stomach twists.

The air between us stretches, thick with things better left unsaid. I press a palm against the doorframe, my pulse skittering under my skin.

“I can’t forget, Scarlett. Iwon’t.” The words spill out, rough and unpracticed.

“What are you doing here?” I glance at the time on my phone, my eyes snapping back to him. “You’re supposed to be on your date. With Cassie. Remember?”

His jaw flexes, the muscle ticking just below the surface. “I couldn’t do it.”

I blink, staring past him, trying to find some logic in this. “Okay…did you forget something?”

He shakes his head, slowly, like I’m missing the obvious. A gust of cold air blows into my study space, and I realize he must be freezing.

“Come in, you’re soaked,” I hiss, pulling him inside the room and closing the door behind me. “What is happening right now? Is this like some weird performance anxiety?”

A low laugh stumbles out of him, quiet and wrecked, as he steps in closer. I instinctively lean back, my spine brushing the door behind me.

“It’s not that,” he says.