Chapter 8

CHAPTER8

SCARLETT

I’m staring at my phone and chewing on my lower lip, trying to come up with the courage to send Ian a text, when my phone lights up with a notification.

A text from Ian. What, he’s reading my mind?

I take this as a sign that we’re meant to be. Of course.

Opening the text, I ignore the nerves making my stomach twist and read his message.

Ian: You’re going out with a boy band member now.

That’s it. That’s all the text says.

I drop the phone on my bed and flop backward on it, my mind racing with possible replies. How can I tell him that kiss meant nothing without making the incident sound bad? I suppose I could tell him the truth.

Or I could try to make Ian jealous by telling him that yes, I’m definitely seeing the former boy band member and my life is fantastic thanks to him.

Sitting up, I grab my phone and start tapping away on the keyboard.

Me: We’re not going out.

I hesitate for only a moment before I send the next text.

Me: Yet.

There’s no response. Ian takes so long I start pacing around the room, chewing on my fingernail as I wait for his text. My palms are literally starting to sweat, and when he finally answers, I grab my phone and open the text immediately.

Ian: I thought you were saving yourself for me.

My heart drops into the pit of my stomach. Does he actually mean that?

Another text appears.

Ian: Kidding.

It’s accompanied by a laughing-face emoji.

An actual growl rises from my throat, and I’m tempted to toss the phone across the room, but I hold my impulses in check.

I decide to be bold. It’s so much easier, doing that sort of thing over text instead of face to face, though it has much more meaning when you tell someone in person.

But screw it. I’ve been chasing after this seemingly clueless guy for the last couple of years of my life, and I’m tired of waiting for him to make a move. Looks like I need to be the one to make something happen.

Me: I mean . . . I WAS saving myself for you, but you never seemed interested.

I send the text quickly, before I can second-guess myself. I try to swallow past the lump that forms in my throat, but it’s like I can’t. A dull throb starts at my temple while I wait for his response.

Which doesn’t come for a solid five minutes.

When my phone finally dings, I almost shriek out loud.

Ian: I was always interested.

I don’t bother playing the hesitation game. I respond fast before I lose my nerve.

Me: Then why didn’t you do anything about it? You’ve had your chance for years.

Ian: First off, you were too young. And now . . .

He’s typing. I can see the gray bubble in our text thread, and I wait, breathless. This could be my chance. He could finally say, Yes, let’s go out on a date. Let’s spend time together, Scarlett. Real, actual time when we act like a couple and not friends.

I close my eyes as I clutch my phone, hoping and wishing I’ll receive the answer I so desperately want.

When the text sounds, I wait for a couple of beats, scared he’s going to turn me down.

Ian: I lost my chance. You’re finally eighteen and look at you. You’re gorgeous. You could have anyone you want, and I’m pretty sure that Tate Ramsey guy wants you.

Ian: You two make a great couple.

Um . . .

That is not what I expected him to say.

There’s a knock on my bedroom door, and in walks my best friend, a determined look on her face that tells me she means business.

“You kissed Tate Ramsey? Seriously? And you didn’t even think to call me? Or text? Or, I don’t know, send a message to me via a raven or something?” Rachel holds out her phone, that damn photo of me and Tate lip locked blown up on her screen. “Look at you two! I’m pretty sure he has his tongue down your throat. Lucky bitch.”

“Uh . . .”

She doesn’t even give me time to explain. “That’s when you snuck off, right? You big liar! I even asked you if you hid away in a corner with Tate or whatever, and you told me no. How could you keep this from me? This is huge!”

There is not even a hint of seriousness in Rachel’s tone, which tells me she’s not truly mad.

“How could I tell you when I knew you’d make a complete scene in the middle of my party?” I shrug, watching as she starts pacing around my room just like I did not even five minutes ago.

“True, true. I would’ve screamed at anyone who was listening that you made out with the Tate Ramsey. How freaking exciting, Scarlett! You’re seeing him again, right?”

“I don’t think so,” I say weakly, noting the disappointment on her face.

“Seriously? Wait a minute.” I could get whiplash from the way she shifts the conversation. “What if this is just a onetime thing and that’s it? What a cool thing to claim, though. On your eighteenth birthday, you made out with the lead singer of a boy band that you crushed on when you were fifteen.”

“Fourteen,” I correct her. “Thirteen, even.”

“Whatever. Semantics.” She waves her hand dismissively, then strides toward my bed and plops her butt on the mattress right next to me. “How was it?”

“How was what?”

“The kiss! Tell me. I need all the details. Was it good? Better than you dreamed? Better than Ian?” Rachel’s eyebrows shoot up, and I’m sure she’s just waiting for me to bash on Ian.

I think she believes I’ve actually kissed Ian before, and I’ve never really corrected her, because Rachel hooked up with a few guys when we were in high school, and compared to her, I always felt . . . lacking. She had a serious boyfriend for the last three months of our senior year, only to promptly break up with him the day after we graduated.

“I only wanted a guaranteed date for prom,” she admitted to me after it was over, and I was in shock she was so nonchalant about it.

She had sex with that guy too. Said it was no big deal and she was relieved to finally rid herself of her virgin status. While I’m over here stuck with mine.

“Well?” Rachel asks impatiently, waiting for my answer.

“Well, what?”

“The kiss? How was it? Amazing? Life changing? Or was he bad at it.” Rachel’s expression turns dreamy. “I bet he wasn’t bad. Not even close.”

No. Not even close. “It was . . . nice.”

“Nice? That’s it? There was tongue, right?”

“Um, yeah.” This is vaguely embarrassing to admit, even though it’s just Rachel and we’ve shared lots of secrets together over the years.

“Love that for you. Seriously, I do.” Rachel grabs her phone and starts tapping away at the screen. “Should you send him a DM?”

“I am not reaching out to him. Not at all.” I shake my head. “This entire situation has sort of backfired for me.”

“Backfired how? You have like a million more followers. Everyone is talking about you, and your dad’s name isn’t attached to the conversation whatsoever.”

Rachel is one of the only people who know how I feel about our family dynamic. “He’s mentioned sometimes.”

“That can’t be helped. He is your father. But Fitzy can’t say he made out with Tate, so you have one up on him.” Rachel laughs.

I don’t laugh at all. It’s like I can’t. I can only think about Ian and how he believes he doesn’t have a chance with me anymore because of Tate. “That photo of me kissing Tate has ruined my every chance with Ian.”

“Oh, thank God. I was worried you’d end up marrying the guy.” Rachel smiles brightly. “This is a good thing, Scarlett! You’ll get over him once and for all, since he’s not interested in you anymore.”

Her words hurt. More than I care to admit. “It’s not that he’s not interested. Ian truly believes he doesn’t have a chance because of me kissing Tate. He thinks we’re actually together. He told me that we make a great couple.”

“Really? He said that?”

I nod. “And he told me he was always interested in me. He just couldn’t do anything about it because of my age.”

Rachel makes a dismissive noise. “Please. I don’t believe that. If he wanted to make a move, he could’ve done something about it a while ago.”

“He said I was too young.”

“You really think your parents would’ve cared if you were seventeen, dating Mr. Perfect despite him being two years older than you? Your dad probably would’ve loved that.” Rachel shakes her head. “Though I don’t recall Fitzy loving the idea of you and Ian together.”

“He didn’t. Though my father loves that I kissed Tate and the photos are everywhere,” I admit. “He told me he didn’t think I had it in me.”

“What, being scandalous?” When I nod, Rachel continues, “Why does everyone think you’re so boring?”

Ouch. “Gee, thanks, best friend.”

“You know what I mean.” Her eyes fill with sympathy. “I didn’t mean to insult you. You’re not boring. Not even close.”

“Nice try, but no. I’m pretty boring.”

“No, you’re definitely not. You’ re just . . . repressed. No, that’s not the word for it either. You just haven’t been given a chance yet to be your true self. Now’s the time for you to break free and do whatever you want. You’re eighteen, you just had an epic birthday party that people are still talking about, and you’re the darling of the internet. You need to capitalize on that shit, stat.”

My phone dings, and I check it to see I have another text from Ian. Completely unprovoked, which means he double texted me for the first time.

Giddy, I open the text to read it.

Ian: Are you saying I still have a shot? Because if that’s the case . . .

Ian: Challenge accepted.

“Oh my God,” I gasp.

“What? What’s wrong?” Rachel asks.

“Ian just basically said he wants another chance at me.” I lift my head to meet Rachel’s troubled gaze. “He’s still interested.”

Rachel groans, throwing herself backward on my bed so she’s lying across it, staring up at the ceiling. “He’s lying to you. He just likes the idea of you pining away for him. That’s it. He’ll never actually get together with you.”

“You don’t know that,” I say, mildly offended.

I refuse to let her negativity get me down.

My bedroom door swings open, my father peeking around the edge with a cheesy grin on his face. “Oh, Scarlett, you have a visitor.”

Frowning, I glance over at Rachel, who immediately sits up. “Who is it?”

“Tate Ramsey.”