Page 99 of Embrace

“Then what? You did something crazy, didn’t you?” I narrow my eyes. “I told you to stop jumping in front of people’s cars.”

His gaze flicks up to the ceiling, then back to me. “This whole week, I didn’t get why I felt like my life was spinning out of my control, like every turn I took was the wrong one.”

I continue blinking.

“So I went to Iona. I told Cassie I couldn’t go on a date with her, that if I did I’d be doing what I have been doing the whole week. Avoiding what I really want. What I can’t stop thinking about.” His voice splinters at the edges.

“What do you mean?”

“I was wrong.” His gaze falls back to mine, completely wrecked. “God, I was so wrong.”

There’s so much happening on his face that I can’t pinpoint a single emotion. I still don’t get why he’shere. “About what?”

“I don’t want Cassie.”

I shake my head, almost stubbornly. “But you said yes to the date.”

“I didn’t—okay, I did, but I was an idiot. I was annoyed that you weren’t at my game, that even at Porter’s it looked like you wanted to be anywhere but there. I didn’t—I don’t like her like that. I can’t.

“I like the idea of having someone to care for, someone to be with like I’ve seen all my friends have. But I realized tonight—fuck, I think I realized it a long time ago—that I don’t want that with just anyone.”

He takes another step, and there’s nowhere left for me to go. The door is pressing cold into my back, my lungs are tight, and the room is tilting sideways.

“I want it with someone who does things like stress-braid her hair when she’s studying, or chews her pens raw when she’s nervous. I want someone who cares about other people, enough to volunteer time she doesn’t have, and who still believes in the goodness of someone who’s let them down. Someone who gives people like me a chance. Someone who focuses on the pockets of good.” He gently presses a hand against my jaw. “I want it with my best friend. I want it withyou, Scarlett.”

The words short-circuit every rational thought I have. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

There’s no way he can mean that. How did he even know I’d be here?

Because he knows you.

Kian runs a hand through his wet hair, looking at me with eyes that could pry my heart from my chest.

He watches me with an intensity that could melt the paint on the walls. It could curl the pages of the books. We’ve been in this room so many times, but never like this. Not when he’s staring at me like he’s starved himself and the only bit of relief he’s gotten is from the sight of me. Even now, when I can see his need bursting from the seams, he doesn’t move. He waits patiently.

That threatens to split me in half. Kian still doesn’t see me as something he can have whenever he wants. He sees me as his friend.Best friend.

“I want you so bad that I can’t think about anything else,” he admits, the words dripping from his lips like honey. “I want you so bad that if I don’t kiss you right now, I don’t think I’ll survive.”

Thirty-three

Kian

For the firsttime in my life, I want something. Bad enough that I’ve asked for it. But like always, I can never be sure if it wants me back.

Scarlett’s frozen. Just blinking up at me in complete shock. Her gaze keeps roaming my soaked clothes, as if she’s trying to make sense of everything. When I realized her car wasn’t at Iona House, I didn’t need to guess where she’d be. I left my car in the parking lot, sure it’ll get towed, and ran straight to her.

“But we’re friends. That’s what we agreed to on the phone. You said so yourself.”

There’s a tremor to her voice, and the way she fidgets with her fingers tells me she’s nervous. I take one step closer to her, preventing myself from just holding her in my arms. I miss her, but she’s right here. I’m so sick of missing people who are close enough to touch but never to be with.

“We are friends. Best friends,” I confirm. “But I don’t think about my friends the way I think about you.”

“How do you think about me?” Her words are hesitant, like she’s afraid of the answer.

“Like six seconds will never be enough for me when to comes to you,” I say. “I don’t want to be anywhere that’s not close to you. And it’s okay—really, it is—if that’s not how you feel, but I had to tell you. I need you to know that I want you. I’m not just picking you like it’s some choice, because it’s never been one.”

She doesn’t speak and I don’t want to take that as her answer, but it would be worse to force her to want me the way I want her.