Chapter Two

Scarlett’s POV

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, bathing him in their dim glow. He looks ethereal, leaning on the door, his eyes drinking me in. I feel heat creep up my cheeks, and I turn away sharply, tugging the paper towel from the dispenser.

My pulse refuses to slow down. I can still feel him staring at me.

I am about to say something else when my eyes take in the sign on the door, clearly saying MEN.

Shit!

I was so distracted after that tense moment during dinner that all I wanted to do was get away from the table. And Bianca’s arrival just made it worse. I don’t even know why I am so angry about the fact that he has a fiancée.

I’m angry at myself for being angry.

Maybe I should just go home.

When I turn around again with my hands dripping water onto the ground, he still has that look on his face. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, swallowing. “I…I didn’t realize…”

"That it's the men's bathroom? You said you are on the Dean's Honor List in college.” His tone is bland, but his eyes aren’t. I can tell that Ares isn’t annoyed, but there is something else under his gaze that I cannot place my hands on.

Something that makes me suddenly so self-conscious.

Curiosity?

“I just…” I begin, then stop, taking in a deep breath. I have no reason to be nervous. I did nothing wrong. But maybe this isn’t about what I did.

“Look, it was an honest mistake, okay? I just went in the wrong door."

Ares folds his arms across his chest. “Funny how you keep showing up where you are not supposed to be.”

I blink. The jab stings more than it should.

“Don’t you remember? My third year in College. I still don’t know how you got a train ticket or who gave you directions. You ruined my date that night, and I had to babysit you till the next day because Spencer was out of town.”

I remember that night clearly, and I would like to add that it was good riddance because Spencer told me she'd only agreed to date him because she knew how wealthy his family was.

Ares should be thanking me.

"I'm leaving." I snap instead, reaching for the paper towel again. But my hands are shaking, making it difficult to get a strong grip. It tears halfway, and I sigh in frustration.

Suddenly, I feel him next to me, close enough that his now familiar scent curls into my senses. I hold my breath as he plucks a towel himself and holds it out. Avoiding his eyes, I snatch it with the speed of lightning and start rushing out of the bathroom.

But his voice makes me halt.

“Are you always this defensive, Scar?” he questions, his tone sounding husky now, like a throaty laugh under the dark lights of a pub in the heart of New York.

Now, I’m beginning to psych this. 

I turn around, my unfounded anger itching its way to the surface. Everything is making me pissed tonight, from the fact that I bumped into him outside without knowing who he was, to the cocky look on his perfect features, and the damn fact that he has a fiancée and that I seem to be really bothered about it.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“I wouldn’t be defensive if you stopped looking at me like that!”

Maybe that isn’t what I should have said, but the words slip out before I can stop them.

"Like what?" His voice is rougher this time, and unconsciously, I suck in a sharp breath.

A deafening silence rings through the bathroom, the ghost of my words still lingering in the air. When I look up at Ares, his expression has changed. The smirk on his face is gone, now replaced with something else.

He seems to be studying me, like he's realizing something he didn't notice before.

“Scar…”

“You keep looking at me like I am trouble,” I whisper, my heart thudding hard against my chest. “Back at the diner and here.”

He doesn't smile. "You are trouble, Scarlett. You are my best friend's little sister. That's as much trouble as it gets."

There it is again. The wall that has always been between us. The unspoken rule. Years back, I accepted that it was because I was a kid and that I had nothing to offer him. I thought it was some silly crush that would go away.

And I really thought it did, until tonight.

But it is the first time ever that Ares has acknowledged it.

“You don’t have to treat me like a kid, you know,” I say softly. “I’m not Spencer’s little sister anymore.”

Ares looks like he wants to dismiss it with an awkward chuckle. But it dies in his throat as his gaze betrays him. It moves down to my face, as if memorizing every curve, and then, to my lips, lingering a second too long before snapping back to my eyes.

Every bit of this feels dangerous. My throat suddenly feels so parched as a strange heat engulfs me. I want to take a step closer to him, but at the same time, I want to run far away. It feels like I am standing on a cliff edge, aware that one wrong move will send me falling.

“Ares…”

"You should go," he says stiffly, pulling his gaze away from me and raking a hand through his hair.

I should. It is the right thing to do. But my feet wouldn’t listen to my brain. Instead, I give in to my body, stepping just a little closer to him, daring us both.

His eyes darken as I stop in front of him. Too close to him. One more step and I will be in his arms.

“Don’t,” he warns.

“Don’t what? Admit that all these years, you were aware of my silly crush and that maybe you…”

Suddenly, he cuts me off, closing the space between us. I gasp as the heat from his skin hits me, as he moves sharply, edging me towards the sink until my back hits it, trapping me.

And then, a knock on the door.

Ares locked the damn thing.