Page 47 of Even in the Dark

Which begs the question: why is he even cutting it in the first place, then?

“So, what’s the occasion?” I pry lightly. “You trying to woo someone?”

His forehead wrinkles. “Woo?”

“Attract someone—hoping to put the moves on them.”

“By cutting my hair?”

It really is like he’s lived under a rock his whole life. I guess he sort of has.

“Okay, so then why the sudden urge to cut your hair?”

“Just felt like it.”

Bullshit. It’s obvious he couldn’t care less what his hair looks like.

“It was Phil, wasn’t it?” I lift an eyebrow. “Or Diane? I bet it was Diane who asked you to cut it. She totally hates—”

A ping sounds from my phone on the vanity.

My stomach lurches into my chest.

It’s been happening ever since those texts from Carter three days ago. My heart rate spikes every time my phone pings with an incoming message. I’m constantly on edge, anticipating another one. Basically, Carter has slid from my DMs straight into permanent residency somewhere in the back of my brain.

I lean across Dylan to pick up my phone.

The text isn’t from Carter, though. It’s Gavin. The message lights up:

Gavin

Hey babe. ur coming w me to Xave's tonight right?

“Another mother-daughter movie night?” Dylan drawls, hooded gaze tracking my fingers as I start typing my response. He must have seen Gavin’s name pop up.

“Reading my texts now?” I give him a sardonic smirk. “Nice.”

I hate that my snarky comeback doesn’t negate the fact that we both know he has one up on me, with that bald-faced lie he caught me in last week. I also hate that the best retort I could come up with just now was a lame “nice”. Usually, I’m the queen of zingy retorts, putting people in their place with the speedand efficiency of a snappy fly swatter. Except with Dylan Braun, apparently.

Itwason the tip of my tongue to point out that at least I have options on my Friday night. But I restrained myself. Partially because, let’s be honest, the truth is he could be the guest of honor at any number of parties this weekend, if he wanted, or any girl’s bed—but also, because, unlike him, I at least have a minimal standard of civility.

“Out of curiosity,” I ask Dylan as I finish typing out my response to Gavin, letting him know I’ll meet him at Xave’s later on, “why are you always such a dick to me?”

“Out of curiosity,” he volleys, his eyes flicking briefly to mine as he stands up. "Why do you care?"

My body jerks back. God, what an asshole.He lifts the chair easily despite his bandaged hand, stepping around me to bring it back to the bedroom as I look on. Why does he insist on continuing to act this way? When I’ve done nothing to threaten him or to be mean, other than the comment in the car that one time. Which I apologized for right away, and about half a dozen times after.

I stand alone in the middle of the marble tiled room, reeling. My eyes lift to the mirror, my own harried gaze reflected back at me.

He’s right, though. WhydoI care?

I’m not sure I have the fortitude to explore the answer to that question just now. Especially under such scrutiny. I square my shoulders, then turn and cross the threshold from polished tiles to stained hardwood. “By the way,” I say casually as his bare arm brushes against mine on his way back to the bathroom. “Diane wanted me to let you know dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

I’ve been up here with him for the past fifteen minutes. They’re probably sitting down for dinner as we speak. ButI’m feeling petty and yes, I’m hurt. I’m allowing myself this tiny childish retaliation. It’s our weekly Braun-Thiels meal—not Thanksgiving turkey. No one’sreallygoing to care. They’ll just be annoyed they have to send one of the girls up to get Dylan after I already did. Just enough, it’ll take a tiny nibble out of the pedestal they’ve all had him on since his arrival on the scene.

Chapter Seventeen

Scarlett

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