Page 33 of Blocked Score

“Wow, I’m overwhelmed,” Jamie responds in a sarcastic deadpan.

“Let’s change topics,” I say. “Nothing to do with sex. As a matter of fact, let’s keep the whole pelvic region out of it.”

Sebastian reaches for one of the PlayStation controllers on the cluttered coffee table. He fixes a challenging look at Scarlett. “Should we see if our new roomie can keep up inInvasion X?” he says, referring to the first-person shooter game we’ve been playing a lot of lately.

Scarlett arches an eyebrow in response. “Keep up? Throw me that controller and prepare your ass to be kicked.”

Sebastian tosses it to her, and she snags it out of the air. “I could grow to like you, Scarlett,” he says.

I squint at Sebastian as he focuses on the TV screen.

Once again, I can’t deny that the feeling slicing into my chest is jealousy. I’ve seen the glimmer of attraction in his eyes when they’ve rested on her today. I don’t forget the look on his face when we saw her walking down the street, either.

Just don’t grow to like her too much, I want to say.

Scarlett’s in bed,in the room right next to mine.

That thought has been blasting through my mind like a stereo with the volume turned all the way up, making it impossible for me to sleep.

It’s past midnight now, and the sheer shock and surprise of everything that’s happened today has worn off.

What’s left in its wake is a tender pang in my chest, an almost physically painful yearning. It’s like the emotions I’ve spent the last eighteen months trying my best to ignore are roaring to life.

I fling my covers away, swing my legs off my mattress, stand up, and approach the wall.

Her room is right next to mine. Hudson’s old room. I know where his mattress and bedframe are, where Scarlett is sleeping right now. They’re pressed right against the other side of this wall.

I rest my palm on the wall, level with the top of the mattress where I know Scarlett is lying right now.

My hand feels warm even against the cold plaster. It feels good to be close to her after all these years. Too good.

Even though my nervous system is discombobulated by the combination of surprise from seeing her again, relief that she’s safe after losing her apartment, sadness at remembering how the summer we spent in Chicago ended, and being wound way too tight with arousal all day long because just seeing her makes my entire body catch fire … knowing that I’m as close to her as I can possibly be right now, pressed against the small barrier that divides us, soothes me.

There’s only one way I’m getting any sleep tonight.

I gather the heavy quilt from my bed and wrap it around my shoulders. I sink onto the floor, back resting against the wall that Scarlett’s on the other side of. The tuft of hair on the back of my head is my only pillow as I lean it against the space where I imagine Scarlett’s head is lying.

I close my eyes and fall asleep just like that.

17

SCARLETT

Ihate math.

I’m sitting crisscross applesauce on the bed in my new room with my calculus textbook open and papers scattered in front of me.

Just days ago I was saying that I was excited to really jump into the class material and challenge myself. Talk aboutbe careful what you wish for.

I haven’t taken a math class since high school. Even though I’m pre-law, Brumehill has a famous philosophy that they want their graduates, no matter what major, to be well-rounded in rigorous subjects, so Calc I is a graduation requirement for any degree.

My teeth grind together as my pencil scratches against my notebook. My next step for the problem I’m working on isn’t making any sense at all.

Holding up the notebook to my eyes, I examine my previous work … and realize I made a major mistake on the second step.

My work that’s filled up two entire sheets of paper is completely wrong. I have to start from the very beginning.

“Oh, fuck me,” I groan, flinging my head back in frustration.

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