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Authors: Chloe Smith

Scarlett White (14 page)

BOOK: Scarlett White
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"So, you saw me with Francis and just decided it would be a great idea to play 'Romeo and Juliet'. Yes, I can totally relate," she said sarcastically.

 

Tristan laughed, "Well, I didn't expect you to make such a huge deal about it and hit your head on the edge of her bed."

 

"That was definitely not my fault," Scarlett replied.

 

"I guess not," Tristan said. "And I'm sorry."

 

Scarlett turned her head to look at Tristan full on. She blinked at him three times before she shook her head only to find out that it hurt a lot more than she had anticipated. She brought her hand up to cup her head as she pulled her legs up onto the counter to her chest and rested her elbows on her knees. Tristan's eyes momentarily rested on the creamy skin of her long legs.

 

"What?" Tristan asked.

 

"Nothing," Scarlett mumbled.

 

"Why did you give me that look?" Tristan pressed.

 

"You actually apologized," Scarlett whispered into her hands.

 

"You know, you make me out to seem like I'm some kind of heartless monster," Tristan said, looking at Scarlett fully now that she had her face in her hands. She was hot. She had a very nice body, especially when so much of her skin was showing. Tristan was once again dumbfounded at why Scarlett and her two other friends—Ginny and Kate; Meghan hadn't quite physically matured just yet—covered up their bodies so much. They were all hot. And they all—again, minus Meghan—possessed the attitude to be the Queens of Watson High, and yet they stayed at the bottom of the chain. And the weirdest part of it all was they didn't actually seem to care.

 

"Well, if you were in my shoes, you would think that you were a heartless monster," Scarlett said with her face still in her hands.

 

"Why? What did I ever do to you?"

 

"I don't really think it matters that much anymore. What's done is done."

 

"It matters to me. I want to apologize for whatever I did. I feel bad."

 

"How do you feel bad if you don't even know what you did?"

 

"I feel bad for making you feel bad." He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but the words had escaped his mouth before he could stop himself.

 

"Who would have thunk it?" Scarlett said from underneath her arms. "Narcissus actually cares about someone else."

 

"There you go again: thinking that I only care about myself."

 

"Oh no, that's not all I think you care about," Scarlett said finally lifting her head up to look at Tristan, and he saw a light of mischief glitter in her eyes. "I also believe that you think about popularity, sex, and football."

 

Tristan was silent. He was completely dumbfounded. From the outside look on things, she was completely right. But he didn't care just about that stuff. He also cared about his family—sans his father—and he cared about college and keeping his car in check. And there were a lot of other things that he cared about. But he wasn't about to try and explain that to Scarlett because he was sure she wouldn't even listen to him. She would probably shoot back excuses as to why he cared about those other things. She would probably say that he only cared about his family for appearance—popularity; he only cared about college for the football education they gave; and he only cared about his car for grabbing the interest of the female population—sex. Only about half of that was true, but Tristan was almost positive Scarlett wouldn't believe him even if he tried to argue. So, he didn't fight. He let it go.

 

"Can we not fight?" Tristan asked; he was too damn tired to argue with anyone right now.

 

"I don't exactly see how since I'm pretty sure anything you say, I'll contradict," Scarlett replied, finally uncurling her body.

 

"I must have done something seriously wrong for you to hate me so much," Tristan said.

 

"Finally, he gets it." Scarlett rolled her eyes only to find out that that hurt, so she put her hand up to her head to find a large bump protruding there.

 

"You know, most girls would love to have me taking care of them," Tristan commented with a smirk.

 

"Well, I'm not like most girls," Scarlett huffed. "Sorry to disappoint you."

 

"Who said that disappointed me?" Tristan cocked his eyebrow. He was hoping that maybe if he flattered her then he would get the answers he was seeking.

 

"Told you that you were a manwhore."

 

"You never said that." As much as he hated to admit it, that little statement almost hurt.

 

"Not in so many words," Scarlett mumbled.

 

"This is so damn infuriating," Tristan groaned.

 

"What is?" Scarlett's eyes were completely innocent, but the smirk on her mouth told Tristan that she knew exactly what was making him furious.

 

"Can't you and I just have one civil conversation?"

 

"Says the boy who just had a nice go with Alice Barrington a few nights ago," Scarlett muttered.

 

"How did you know that?" Tristan gasped. Had Alice already begun spreading about their affair?

 

"I saw you two. You weren't all that quiet about it. I was taking a walk because my mother…uh…I was upset, and Alice lives right down the street from me, so as I walked passed her house, I heard a few…noises," Scarlett explained. "See, at least I answer your questions."

 

"But you're holding back," Tristan observed.

 

"Am not," Scarlett denied.

 

"Then what did your mother do to make you upset?" Tristan asked.

 

"Nothing. I just had a slip of words. You know, that happens when a rock hits your head," Scarlett tried to cover.

 

"Liar."

 

"Fine. You see, my mother is an alcoholic and a drug addict. So, she needs money to buy all of her 'pain relievers.' And the only way she can save up on money is if I can get a full scholarship to whichever college I go to. So, she gives me this lecture frequently about how I need to keep my focus and study and do extra work, so that I can qualify for a scholarship. And when she's not yelling at me or scolding me about being a better student, she's either out at the bar or passed out on the couch. There. I opened up," Scarlett said as she huffed in frustration.

 

Tristan was shocked. How could she be a better student? She was the best student at Watson High School. She had the highest average in every class, not to mention the highest grade point average in the school. Wasn't she a six point oh student since she was in all advanced placement courses?

 

"Your mom's an idiot if she doesn't see that you're the smartest kid in school."

 

"Why, thank you. For insulting my mother," Scarlett said totally seriously, but with a hint of a smile that was genuine.

 

Tristan didn't exactly know what to say to this because she was completely right. So he decided that since her walls seemed to be slightly down again, it was time for her to fulfill her part of the bargain. He had told her that he had been outside in his car for six hours because of that boy. Now it was her time to tell him about why she despised him.

 

"So, about why you hate me..."

 

Scarlett bit her bottom lip and debated. Tristan could see the wheels twirling in her brain about where to start or what she should say or how to begin. He could see her eyes traveling back in time to where she had been scarred.

 

"You can tell me," Tristan tried to encourage her.

 

"How the hell do you know if I can tell you?"

 

Tristan was silent. He sensed the walls growing taller and taller, blocking her from him.

 

"Exactly," Scarlett continued when Tristan kept quiet. "You don't."

 

Tristan decided this time that he would keep his trap shut. He would allow her the time she needed.

 

"I'm not exactly sure where to begin."

 

"Start from the beginning."

 

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Scarlett shot him a 'duh' look.

 

"You're welcome, Lieutenant Sarcastic." Tristan was tempted to add 'Zinger!' at the end like he would around his friends at school, but he didn't want to press his luck with Scarlett so close to opening up and telling him what happened.

 

"Touché." A smile.

 

Oh my God, Tristan just saw a smile. And not one of those sarcastic smiles that Scarlett had been shooting all night. But what really concerned Tristan was the way that the smile made him feel. When his brown eyes saw the slight curl of her full lips, his heart hammered in his ribcage. His eyebrow cocked at the physical reaction. Why was he acting this way? This was Scarlett White. This was the girl he had grown up with. This was the infamous teachers' pet that everybody looked down upon at school.

 

"What?" Scarlett asked when she noticed the raised eyebrow that Tristan had made to the realization of the reaction of Scarlett's subconscious smile.

 

"Nothing, continue with your story," Tristan urged.

 

"What story?" Scarlett looked truly confused.

 

"Don't play stupid with me," he replied.

 

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about?"

 

"Scarlett," Tristan gave her a dubious look, "The story about why you hate me." It was just then it struck Tristan that this could be a sign of amnesia from the rock he had thrown at her head. Oh, shit. This was the worst case scenario.

 

But just then, Scarlett burst out laughing so hard that a tear slipped out of the corner of her eye, "Your face was hilarious. What, did you think I had amnesia or something?" She spoke through fits of laughter.

 

"It might have passed through my mind once or twice," Tristan replied sheepishly while rubbing the back of his neck.

 

And then it dawned on him why she had tricked him. "You're stalling," he stated.

 

"You really want me to tell you the entire story?" she asked slowly.

 

"No, I've just asked you to tell me this story about one hundred times for no apparent reason," he said cynically.

 

"Fine, fine, fine. It all started back in eighth grade…"

 

Chapter Eight

 

"
Fine, fine, fine.
It all started back in eighth grade—"

 

Scarlett's voice rang in the kitchen for a minute before she continued. She had promised him she would remind him about their past. So, why wasn't she talking?

 

Oh, okay, so that's why...Scarlett was in tears. Wait…Scarlett was in tears? They had come too fast to hold back and had been totally unpredictable. Tristan hadn't even realized that she had begun to cry before her cheeks were drenched with salty tears.

 

"Scarlett! Scarlett, what's wrong?" Tristan asked.

 

Scarlett was looking down, tears falling rapidly down her cheeks.

 

Tristan cupped her face tilting her chin upwards to look him in the eyes. "Scarlett, what is wrong?"

 

"I...I should have run—" What the hell was she talking about?

 

"What is all of this racket in here?"

 

Scarlett gasped and looked at the source of the new noise. Her mother was standing in the doorway. Her messy, red hair was suitable for a rat to live in. Her eyes were blood shot with mascara running down her cheeks a bit and dark bags under the eye sockets.

 
BOOK: Scarlett White
8.3Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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