Good Grades & Mystery Games: Chapter 47

“How does it feel to lose, loser?”

No matter how many times I try to tell Scarlett something isn’t a competition, she thinks I’m bluffing and turns it into one anyway. When I said we were going to be late to class to get our grades after sleeping in, she made it a mission to go back to her apartment and see if she could get to campus before me.

It’s not that I let her win…

Okay, maybe I did.

Only because nothing beats the smile she gets on her face when she’s won something. So that’s the only reason why I’m sulking walking towards her outside of Anderson’s office.

She stands with her hands in the air, one of her hands in an ‘L’ shape on her forehead as she scolds me for being late.

My stomach swarms with butterflies as I notice that her whole outfit is mine. She’s wearing my sweatpants that she stole and my shirt that she took from my closet that says, ‘Suck my Pianist.’ The clothes basically swallow her whole, the sweatpants band rolled down, and the shirt twisted into a knot at the side, showing off the sliver of her stomach and my favourite part, her tattoo.

She looks like mine.

I walk closer to her, shaking my head at her, while she continues to call me a loser. I drag her hand down from her forehead swiftly, interlocking my fingers with hers instead. “Not everything is a competition, Angel.”

Her whole face lights up, those brown eyes staring right into mine. “With you it is. I told you I’d get here before you and I did.”

“Great. Do you want a prize?” I ask, bored.

“You know what? I would lo-”

I silence her by kissing her deeply and she stumbles against the door. I’m pretty sure Anderson can see us from his office. If he can’t see us, he can definitely hear the whimper that comes out of her as I press her against the wall, pinning her with my hips. I kiss her again, biting on her bottom lip before pulling apart.

“What was that?” she breathes, pressing her fingers to her lips.

“Your prize,” I say, smiling down at her. “Now stop making up excuses just to kiss me. You’re, like, obsessed with me or something.”

“Or something,” she mutters before turning around and opening the door to Anderson’s office.

Scarlett

I fucking knew it.

We came top of the class for our project, each of us getting A pluses, as well as receiving a call from the software developer, wanting to make Hard To Tell into a reality. We were both so giddy with excitement, telling each other how happy we were with the way it turned out that I couldn’t even drive back home. I hate when I get like this. Where I get so excited and hot and bothered that I can’t do anything, and I have to work off my energy.

“What are you doing tonight?” I ask him when we get inside my apartment building. “Do you wanna come over?”

“You should probably see what’s going on inside,” he says, nodding up to the elevator. Weird. I open my mouth to respond, but he turns around swiftly walking away from me. “Bye, Angel.”

Sometimes I wonder why I live with these girls.

I knew Evan’s weird goodbye meant something, but I didn’t know exactly what. The second I open the door; the whole apartment is a mess. We usually create a lot of mess, but nothing compared to this.

The airing cupboard is emptied out so towels, tablecloths, and old shit we put in there when we moved in have spilled out onto the floor into the kitchen area. The kitchen is where most of the mess. There’s a stand mixer on the countertop that wasn’t there when I left this morning, the packaging on the floor while Wren stands over it, licking some sort of mixture off her fingers. The fridge door is opened, most of the contents emptied on the side while the Tupperware cupboard spills out onto the floor.

“What is going on…?” I ask, stepping further into the room. Wren turns around as if she’s been caught, her cheeks red and puffy.

“Are you ready for Friendsgiving?” she asks. Has she been hit in the head or something? What the hell is going on?

“It’s the start of May, Wrenny,” I say gently, in case she is on the brink of a mental breakdown. She hardly ever bakes and she’s not particularly good at it either.

“Is it?” she asks, chipper as ever. “Oh, well. We’re all going over to Miles’s for dinner so…” She shrugs innocently, sticking the spoon back in the batter.

“Who is ‘all of us’?” I ask, laughing at the absurdity.

We’ve been hanging out like always, so I don’t know why she’s pushing it. Since we came back from LA, Kennedy has been a little distant, but she usually gets like this around this time of year, given how far away she is from her family. It was a little weird that she didn’t want to celebrate her birthday much this year, so we stayed in and watched a movie for her twenty-first. It was fun as always, but something has seemed off. Maybe that’s why Wren’s pushing this.

“Just Kennedy, Harry, Milesy, me and you, obviously and uh, Evan,” she says, rushing her list.

I narrow my eyes on her. “Why?”

“I just thought it would be nice for us all to hang out now you and Evan are…”

“We’re what?” I ask.

“He’s your boyfriend, Scar. You can say it,” she says, shimmying her shoulder at me for extra effect. That word is still so weird to me. I even considered not calling him anything, but there’s nothing that he does that doesn’t fit my requirements for a boyfriend. And he’s annoyingly perfect at it.

“That doesn’t mean I want to,” I mutter.

“Can you stop being a grump for one night and enjoy this delicious meal that your boyfriend is putting together while I make dessert,” she warns. I nod at her fierce tone. “Okay,” she says it softer this time. “I’ve organised a seating plan, so be prepared.”

* * *

I wish she was more specific about being prepared because with the six of us, and although Wren made it clear she wants to see me and Evan ‘in action,’ she put us at opposite ends of the table as soon as we got here.

I wouldn’t care that much if he didn’t look so good. I just want to ruffle his hair, mess him up a little, take off that white button down and run my hands all over him.

Instead, he’s sitting directly across from me at one head of the table, as I sit at the other. On his right, Kennedy sits next to Evan and Miles on her side, next to me. On my other side, Harry sits across from Miles, while Wren sits on Evan’s other side.

“Baby,” Miles presses as we start to eat the lasagne Evan made. “This seating plan is awful. I can’t do this. Scarlett chews like an animal.”

I kick him under the table, jabbing my heel into his shin and he winces. “If you want to complain, you can sit on the floor for all I care,” I say.

This guy gets more and more immature as the days goes by. After the advice he gave me with Ev, I thought maybe he had grown up, but apparently not. He glares at me, but I roll my eyes.

“What’s up with this seating plan, Wrenny?” Kennedy asks, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. I turn to look at Wren, ready to accuse her, but my eyes snag on Harry watching Kennedy. She’s completely oblivious to the quiet, softie hockey player who is clearly head over heels for her. As much as they can say they’re just friends, the kind of looks he gives her hold so much more than a platonic glance. “I mean, I’m not complaining, but splitting up the couples is brutal. Miles’s veins are going to pop out of his forehead.”

Wren carries on chewing her piece of garlic bread innocently. When she swallows, all of us watching her, she turns to Evan instead, placing her hand on his. “This lasagne is delicious, Evan. Did you make it from scratch?”

“Actually, I got-” he starts.

We’re not doing that. At all. “Wren,” I press. “What are you doing?”

She sits up straighter, pushing her blonde hair behind her shoulder before pinning me with a look. “Do you remember that time when you all said Miles and I couldn’t keep our hands off each other?” I nod as the realisation slowly hits me.

When Wren and Miles started to date for real, they couldn’t stop touching each other. After one of their games, all of us, excluding Evan, were in the living room and Wren was sitting in Miles’ lap while they whispered disgusting things to each other, basically making out in front of us. After Ken pulled Harry away for their infamous seven-minutes-in-heaven debacle, I was left in the room with those two and it started to get less and less child friendly.

“So, you think Ev and I can’t do that?” I ask, glancing at him. He looks so innocent, all put together as he slowly eats the food he made while everyone glances around the table. I want to kiss him so badly. Wren nods, clearly happy with her little genius plan. This is going to be more torture for her boyfriend than it is for mine. “We’re not like you two animals. I can eat a meal across from him.”

Wren shrugs as if to say ‘We’ll see’ before digging back into her food. Miles has been fidgeting at the side of me for the whole meal and he’s about to piss me right off if he doesn’t sit still.

“Is this about self-control?” Miles asks and she nods. “You know I don’t have a lot of that, baby.” Harry starts to laugh. Even as the designated baby on the hockey team, he seems to have more sense than most of them combined. “Hey! You can’t laugh, Butler. When you’re in a relationship then you can talk. Until then, you won’t know how completely devastating it is not to touch your girl.”

“Yeah, I know what that’s like,” he mutters in response.

As the words leave his mouth his eyes connect with Kennedy’s, and I swear time stops. The energy between them is radioactive, but for some reason, one of them seems to be giving it off more than the other. She smiles a little, dropping her gaze back down to her food while Harry’s face burns red.

Strange.

“How are you holding up, Ev?” I ask causally over the table, taking a sip of my drink. He smiles wide, those perfect teeth showing.

“Great,” he replies. “You?”

“Fantastic,” I say, beaming. “Are you having trouble not touching me?”

He shakes his head, swallowing. “It’s no big deal. I’ve been resisting you all my life. I can pretend again for one night.” I press my mouth shut to hide the giddy grin that battles my face not to spread across my mouth, but I don’t let it as the girls let out sitcom-worthy ‘Awhs.’

“You’ve become such a softie,” Miles murmurs to my boyfriend and I kick him again. “You too, Scarley.” It’s like he wants me to bruise his leg. I ignore him and continue eating my food.

“Can I say something?” Kennedy asks. Everyone’s heads turn to hers, Harry’s not moving from already looking at her. “As much as you guys make me want to rip my hair out, you also make me laugh a bunch. So, thank you.”

“Why are you thanking us?” Harry asks curiously.

“Well, you know what it’s like to not be at home. But when I’m with you guys, I don’t worry about that. I know I haven’t been the most fun person to hang out with recently, but you never make me feel bad about it,” she explains, dropping her gaze to the table.

“You shouldn’t have to thank us for something like that, Ken,” Wren says. “We’ve always got your back and you’ve always got ours. It’s that simple.”

“Yeah,” she whispers before coming back to life. “I mean, where would you be without me manifesting you dating a hockey player so we could have an excuse to go to the games.”

I laugh. “You manifested that?”

“Of course, I did. How else do you think they got together?” she explains, gesturing between the couple in question. “You’d be a shitshow without me.”

“You didn’t even like hockey,” Wren retorts, laughing hard.

“You’re a skater. Besties before testes and all that. But secretly, I love hockey,” Kennedy says, waving her hand around in dismissal. She smiles wide, her dimples popping out as she looks at Harry. “Wouldn’t want to miss out on watching my favourite player.”

Harry’s face turns completely red at the compliment. Even as a hockey goalie, he resembles more of a teddy bear than anything else. He gets all shy and nervous around Kennedy’s loud energy, but when I catch them together they feed off each other, just becoming one huge ball of sunshine.

The way they’re smiling at each other now? I don’t know if friends just look at friends that way. Maybe I’m just projecting and getting antsy about not being able to touch Evan. Kennedy’s thing is to overanalyse, so I’ll leave that up to her.

We eat the rest of the meal talking about everything and nothing.

Wren tells us about her vacation this summer, while Miles sulks about not being able to go with her because his family are also going on vacation. They also tell us how they’re spending half of the summer teaching kids how to skate at the local rink. Harry tells us about his family coming to visit him from Australia for a few weeks in the summer, while Kennedy tells us a story about what happened the last time her mom came up here from South Carolina, which ended in a lot of tears.

When everyone’s done sharing and it’s my turn, I don’t know what to say. I don’t have any plans for the summer anymore, other than working on new designs for Voss. I’ve not really thought about it at all. For once, I don’t have a direction. At least when I’m at school, I know I’m working towards something. I have strategies in place, and I know I have a goal. Usually, I try to plan a solo vacation to give me some time to myself, but with a boyfriend, can I still do that? Are there rules now that mean I can’t do things on my own or do we have to always do things together?

I stand abruptly from the table. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Evan stands too. “Me too.” Wren shakes her head. “She’s clearly in need of desperate help, Wren. I’m doing us all a favour here.”

I roll my eyes at Evan’s not discreet excuse as I move from the table and down the corridor to the only bathroom on this floor. I hear his footsteps a few behind mine, but I don’t turn around. I make the quick decision not to go to the bathroom and instead walk out into the street, where the streetlights shine overhead as it starts to rain a little.

I need a second to breathe. I don’t know why I’m panicking about this. I shouldn’t be panicking about this. I’ve been in a relationship before. It wasn’t a great one, but I managed it. So why does this one make me feel like I’m suffocating and nothing is even happening?

I can feel him before he actually touches me.

“Just give me a sec,” I say, holding my hand up as I face away from him. “I think I’m having a panic attack or something.”

I take in huge gulps of air, not knowing if this is working or not, but I need to do something. I can feel him moving behind me. Why is it always raining? Will focusing on that help? As the feeling in my chest tightens, I try to focus on the pavement, watching the rain fall down into the drain, but it doesn’t help. Nothing is working.

“Can I- Will it help if I hold you? I can hold you really tight.”

“You can try,” I whisper.

The second the words are out of my mouth, he comes behind me, wrapping his huge arms around my chest, securing me, and holding me tight the way I need to, resting his chin on my head. I focus on breathing, making sure I don’t run out of breath. My whole body feels heavy and sweaty, even with all the rain. But he’s anchoring me. Keeping me safe.

“I’ve got you, Scar,” he whispers into my hair. “I’ve got you.”

“I know. I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I choke out. “One second I was fine and the next… I don’t know. I’m just worried when there’s nothing to worry about.”

He doesn’t ask about what because I think he knows. “We’re going to be okay, you know? If you keep trying to compare our relationship to everyone else’s, you’re never going to be satisfied. We don’t need a plan for the summer to enjoy ourselves. If you want to go to Italy, walk around museums, go to New York…. Anything you want. We can do it all. Or we can stay here and do nothing. As long as I’m with you, close to you, I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

My heartbeat starts to settle again, and he starts to relax off me, his grip slowly loosening so I can breathe again. He twists us around, so my chest is to his and he crushes my face to his, kissing me on the forehead. How does he manage to make everything better? He just gets me. Sometimes I don’t even have to speak, and he knows exactly what’s wrong. I can give him a look and he’ll just know.

When I start to breathe normally again, I open my mouth multiple times without saying what I want to say. There’s no way we’re going to move forward if I don’t. I sigh, trying to muster up all the courage I need, and I step back from him. He still holds onto my shoulders, studying me curiously in the light rain.

Starting off strong, I say, “Don’t ever quote me on this.” He tilts his head to the side. “I feel like the luckiest girl when I’m with you. You listen to me. You make me feel smart. You take care of me even when I don’t want you to. I’ve been so used to doing that on my own, only looking out for myself and pushing everything else away, and you took that part of me and cared for it so effortlessly. You never complain. You wait for me when I tell you I’m not ready. You just get me. And I get you. I couldn’t ask for a better partner. And I know that word cringes people out, but that’s exactly what we are: partners. Partners in crime, too.”

My brain barely gets to process the fact that I said those words, let alone that his lips are covering mine. He grabs onto my face, holding me tight, kissing me so hard that I almost go dizzy. He’s kissing me so hard that it’s the force of a million kisses, telling me everything I never knew I needed to hear.

I’m proud of you and I’ve got your back, is all I can hear as he kisses the living daylights out of me. When we’re still kissing and the rain has stopped, I can’t tell if it’s a tear coming from his cheek that I can taste or if it’s the rain. I pull back from him.

“Hey,” I say softly, brushing the tear that has fallen from his eye. “Why are you crying?”

“Because I’m happy about what you just said,” he replies, doing his best and not to sound upset. He closes his eyes, tilting his head up to the sky. “Fuck, Scarlett. Don’t say shit like that.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you!”

“No need to shout, Ev,” I murmur, laughing a little, but his face remains serious. My heartbeat roars in my ears, and I have to steady myself against his arms, making sure I don’t slip or melt into a puddle at his feet. “You love me?”

“Of course, I do! Has that not been obvious? I think I’ve been so unhealthily in love with you my whole life, Scarlett. Since we were kids, there has been no one that I’ve loved as much as I love you. I love doing stupid things with you, I love it when you tell me to relax, I love it when you hold my hand when you don’t even realise you’re doing it. No one has ever made my chest burn just by looking at them. No one who has made me want to do better, be better, for them. I don’t think about anything as much as I think about you, about us, about being with you. I would count down the minutes in class for a second to argue with you. I’d play your stupid games if it meant that I had your attention for just two seconds. I’d lay my soul bare for you, Scarlett. I’d let you pick me apart. I’d let you do absolutely anything to me. Because you’re…” His voice wobbles. “You’re everything to me.”

“Why is loving me unhealthy?” I tease, tilting my head. The severity of what he said hasn’t hit me yet. I don’t know why that part is the only thing I’m caught up on.

“Because it’s addicting. Even when you push me away, I still want more of you. All of you. All of the time,” he says, his tone serious and deadly, thick with emotion.

“I want you too.”

“Yeah?”

His smile almost makes me want to cry. He has the sweetest lined dimples that spread across his cheekbones when he smiles too hard. Sometimes he does it when he’s being sarcastic or when he’s trying to piss me off, but he’s smiling like that now. Just for me.

My brain is refusing to process the words that just came out of his mouth. I’m still feeling dizzy from that kiss and now this is making me feel even more lightheaded. Evan Branson loves me. He doesn’t just like holding hands with me or writing me songs. He doesn’t like buying me two hundred thousand dollar paintings or whispering filthy things to me. He makes me feel smart and capable. He makes me want to work harder. He loves me. And I….

“I love you, Ev,” I say, reaching out my hand to rest on his face. I watch him sigh as if he’s been holding his breath for years. “If what we’ve been doing for the past few weeks is what it’s going to be like forever, I don’t want anything else. You make love seem fucking golden. You’re my angel, Evan.”

“I knew you didn’t hate me.” He grins.

“I knew you didn’t hate me either,” I challenge.

“Great.” He steps closer to me.

“Good.” I step closer to him.

“Perfect.” His gorgeous ridiculous face is right in front of me now.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

Then I kissed him again. And again. And again. Because he has me. And I have him. We’re equals. We’re partners. We’re best friends. We’re just everything.

And apparently, kissing in the rain is our thing now.