Scarlett White

by Chloe Smith

  "Want to dance?" Scarlett yelled over the booming noise.

  "Yeah, sure."

  Maroon 5 and Christina Aguilera's new hit, 'Move Like Jaggar,' was playing, so Scarlett pulled Tristan directly into the middle of the floor and began moving her hips against his. Tristan was shocked at first; he had never seen Scarlett dance before. He had once met Kate, Ginny, and Meghan at a club, but they hadn't been dancing, so Tristan had no idea that Scarlett knew how to move so…well, seductively. He could feel himself turning on simply by the touch of her skin against his. And it was mostly just her skin. She was wearing barely anything; something else Tristan wasn't used to. She was clad in a tight, green halter top that stopped just above her navel. Her shorts could have been mistaken for underwear. And then she was wearing boots. They were thigh high, black, leather, and had four inch heels. He was surprised that she managed not to step on his feet with those things on.

  After dancing to three upbeat songs, Scarlett's skin was coated in a thin layer of shining sweat, which made her shimmer. Tristan was shocked to realize that even her sweat turned him on.

  "C'mon, let's get something to drink," Scarlett suggested, leading him into the kitchen to get a cup.

  As they walked through the crowd into the kitchen, Tristan felt his chest clench with anger as he noticed half of the male population in the house turn to watch Scarlett walk pass. He placed his arm around her waist protectively. While Scarlett poured them two drinks, Tristan recognized someone. Dale. It was the boy who had been behind the register at Starbucks. His jaw instantly tightened when Dale spotted them and made his way over to Scarlett.

  "Hey," Dale greeted.

  "Oh, hey, Danny."

  "Dale," Dale corrected with a smile planted on his face.

  Tristan felt a little happier that Scarlett hadn't remembered his name correctly.

  "Whoops, sorry, I got you confused with someone else. You look just like this sophomore I know who goes to my school."

  Tristan's good feeling vanished as soon as these words escaped her lips.

  "No biggie. So, this is a pretty damn nice party."

  "Yeah, Chloe really knows how to get things moving," Scarlett commented, taking a drink from her red, plastic cup.

  Tristan followed suit, to realize quickly that it was orange juice mixed with champagne. It was a mimosa. He didn't think Scarlett drank alcoholic beverages. She had really changed since when she had left Watson High. She wasn't the sweet, kind, naïve nerd anymore. She was the feisty, sexy, bad ass hottie that everyone hit on. And he wasn't sure if he liked it all that much.

  Dale poured himself a mimosa and drank the entire contents in four gulps.

  "Thirsty?" Scarlett asked with raised eyebrows.

  "I've had a stressful day."

  "I'm sorry. What happened?"

  "Just family stuff," Dale replied as he got another drink.

  "You might want to slow down there, killer. Champagne really gives you a headache if you drink too much of it," Scarlett said.

  "I know that."

  "Just making sure," Scarlett replied. "Well, if you'll excuse us…" Scarlett grabbed Tristan's hand and led him out of the kitchen into a hallway.

  "Where are we going?" Tristan asked.

  "I don't know. I just didn't want to be around him when he got shitfaced," Scarlett answered.

  "Good idea."

  "Are you horny?" Scarlett asked out of the blue.

  "What?"

  "Do you want to have sex?"

  "Scarlett—"

  "Ah, c'mon. Please?" Scarlett begged, looking deeply into his eyes. He was stunned to find that simply staring into her beautiful eyes made him want to jump her right then and there.

  "Fine. Where?"

  Scarlett squealed and gave him a huge hug. "Follow me."

  She led him up two flights of stairs, down a few hallways, and into a dark, quiet room.

  "How do you not get lost in this place?" Tristan asked as Scarlett began unbuttoning his shirt.

  "I've been here quite a few times," Scarlett answered, beginning to take his jeans off.

  "You seem quite horny, yourself."

  "Yeah, I think it's the mimosa getting to me," Scarlett replied, removing her little clothing. "Do you have a condom?"

  "No, I didn't expect this to happen."

  "Well, that's okay," Scarlett said, moving over to the bedside table and pulling out a pack of condoms.

  "Whose room are we in?"

  "Chloe's parents. They're in Hawaii on vacation," Scarlett answered, throwing the pack to Tristan.

  "Are you sure we should do this?" Tristan asked.

  "Why?" Scarlett asked, her eyes going wide. "You didn't like it before?"

  "No, that's definitely not it. I just—I mean, you're buzzed. You're not thinking straight."

  "When do I ever not think straight? That's right, never. I always think straight. It's fine. We'll make it quick," and then Scarlett paused, "Listen, if you don't want to do this—"

  "That's not it," Tristan interrupted.

  "Then what is? Why are you so hesitant to do this?"

  "I don't know. You're different."

  "No, I'm not," Scarlett denied.

  "You're not the girl I knew in Florida."

  "What is that supposed to mean?" Scarlett narrowed her eyes.

  "All I mean is you're more confident."

  "So, what you want is a girl who is completely helpless? A girl who is less popular than you? Is that why you cared about me in Florida? Is that why you said you loved me?"

  "No, it's not that."

  "Well, it most certainly sounds like that," Scarlett replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

  "What I mean is you seem more…more…"

  "What? I seem more what!"

  "Slutty!"

  Scarlett took a step backwards, her eyes filling with tears.

  "You think I'm slutty? Is that why you won't have sex with me? Well, excuse me, I'm sorry. I thought you liked slutty girls, seeing as you fucked practically all of them at Watson High. Alice, Brianna, Anabelle, Alexia, Lucy, Miranda, Jessie, Vickie, Chelsey, Anna-Lisa, Elaine, Natalie, Diana…Did I leave anyone out?"

  "That was the old me. I was confused back then."

  "People don't change that quickly, Tristan."

  "You did!"

  "I did not! Just because I'm popular now doesn't mean that I changed!"

  "The Scarlett that I knew would never wear what you're wearing, dance the way you danced back there, talk the way you did to that Dale guy, drink alcohol, or want to have sex so much!" Tristan yelled.

  Scarlett jolted. She couldn't believe he had just said that. She could feel the sting of tears about to fall from her eyes. And then she screamed, "Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Get out! I hate you! I hate you so fucking much!"

  "Whatever! You're not the girl I fell in love with. You're just a slutty version of her," Tristan mumbled, trying to shake the feeling he had gotten when she said she hated him. He hastily pulled his jeans back on.

  "Yeah, well, you're not the boy I fell in love with either. You're just a selfish bastard," Scarlett said, tears easily sliding down her cheeks now.

  Tristan froze as he buttoned up his shirt. "What did you say?"

  "You're a selfish bastard," Scarlett said, turning around, so he couldn't see her cry.

  "Before that."

  "What? That you're not the boy I fell in love with."

  "You fell in love with me?"

  "Of course I did, you moron! That's why I gave you my virginity!"

  "You never told me that. You never told me you loved me."

  "I was going to. Tonight, actually. I didn't realize it until Christian—" Scarlett stopped, widening her eyes.

  "Until Christian…what?" Tristan asked, taking a step closer to her.

  "It doesn't matter anymore," Scarlett said.

  "It does to me."

  "Well, why don't you go ask him? I'm not talking to you anymore."

  "What did h
e do?" Tristan asked. "Did he hurt you?"

  "No, he didn't do anything like that. Now get out of here! I don't want to see you anymore."

  "Scarlett, I—"

  "Leave me alone."

  Tristan looked at her trembling form one more time, saw her shaking shoulders, and thought better of trying to touch her. He reluctantly left her alone.

  Scarlett was angrier than she had been in a long time. She was mad at Tristan. She couldn't believe he had said all of those things to her. She wasn't a slut. She wasn't a whore. Sure, she dressed a little differently than she used to. Sure, she talked differently to boys. Sure, she was more confident and comfortable here than she had been in Florida. But she wasn't different. She was still the same. She was still a nerd. It's just now she was a sexy nerd.

  She was getting ready to put her clothes back on when the door opened again. She was certain that it was Tristan, so when she turned around to yell at him, it was a complete shock to her to see Christian clumsily tripping over his own feet with an empty beer bottle in his hand. Christian looked up and noticed her, his glazed over eyes widening in curious surprise.

  "Whaddya doin' in 'ere ah-la-lone?" he asked.

  "Chris," Scarlett said worriedly as she wrapped the sheet from the bed around her naked body, "You're drunk out of your mind. You really need to cool it on the drinks."

  "Imma fiiiiine. But my numbs are a little gum."

  "Your what?"

  "My numbs are gum!" Christian shouted as if he thought Scarlett had a hearing problem.

  "Your gums are numb?"

  "Yesh, yesh, my numbs are gum! Guesssh what!"

  "You need to lie down," Scarlett said, grabbing Christian's hand and pulling him over to the bed.

  "I sshaid, guessh what!"

  "What?" Scarlett asked, trying to push him onto the bed.

  "You look sssuper sexy," Christian said, finally plopping down onto the bed.

  "What?"

  "You're sexy tonight," Christian repeated.

  Scarlett wasn't sure exactly what happened next. Later, she would like to think that she tripped on the edge of the sheet, but if she was to be truthful, she willingly fell on top of Christian when he intertwined his fingers among hers and tugged lightly. She straddled Christian's waist, her hands were on either side of his face as she supported herself above him. Her long, curly, red hair fell over her shoulders, framing her face. Suddenly, Christian's eyes zeroed in on her eyes. Scarlett's breath was coming in short, quick bursts. It felt extremely hot in the room now. Christian brought his hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

  She knew this was wrong. She knew she had only just broken up with Tristan. Well, had they broken up? The words hadn't been spoken. They technically were still together, which made this whole situation even worse. But she was buzzed and horny and angry. She needed to release her anger in some way. Scarlett bent down lower, closer to Christian, and he met her halfway.

  Their lips touched, softly at first, but then hormones kicked in, the beer settled in their systems, and the intensity of the moment caused Christian to wrap his arms around Scarlett's body and pull her closer, and Scarlett began undressing Christian as his hands roamed her body.

  The sun slanted through the window, waking Christian up from his deep slumber. He rolled over and realized he was butt naked. He brought his palms up to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He groaned. His head was throbbing from the headache, a result of all the alcohol he had consumed last night.

  He finally opened his eyes and looked around the room. He definitely wasn't in his own room. He thought back, trying to remember where he had gone last night. Chloe's house. He was at her party. And he had come into a room, thinking it was a bathroom. He had found Scarlett. Naked. Funny, at the time, he hadn't even realized how odd it was that she was alone in a room by herself completely and utterly nude.

  He rubbed his eyes again. Why had he gotten so drunk? He remembered being groggy. He recalled talking to Scarlett, but he couldn't conjure up the memories of what she said. He groaned. That could have been his chance. If he had been sober, he could have charmed the pants right off her—granted she wasn't wearing any pants, but that was beside the point.

  Just then he heard a murmur from beside him. He froze. Who was in the bed with him? Whom had he slept with? He removed his hands from his eyes and slowly turned his head to look at the girl who was lying beside him.

  He jumped out of the bed. Fiery, tangled, scarlet hair was splayed across the pillow. It couldn't be. It wasn't. He hadn't slept with Scarlett. There was no way in hell that he had slept with her.

  Just then the girl turned over, and her hair fell away from her face to reveal that it actually was Scarlett who was sleeping next to him. His heart raced inside of his chest. He had done it. He had slept with her. He had finally done what he had wanted to do from the very beginning. He was excited and filled with ecstasy that he had had sex with Scarlett. He almost couldn't believe what he was thinking.

  What surprised him even more was that he had gotten her in bed even while he was drunk. What upset him was that he couldn't remember anything about what had happened last night. He was sure it had been great though. He was sure she had been great.

  Scarlett's eyes fluttered open. They looked around the room lazily and then they landed on Christian.

  "Oh, fuck."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Tristan had gone straight to Christian's house after he left Scarlett alone in that room at Chloe's party. He hadn't felt like dancing or drinking or laughing or smiling or having any sort of fun whatsoever. He only felt like being alone. Well, actually he felt like being back with Scarlett. He wished he hadn't said all of those crude and mean things to her. He wished he could take all of them back. But he couldn't. And he knew that. He knew that Scarlett would probably never want to talk to him again. And he didn't blame her one bit. Hell, he wouldn't want to talk to him if he had said all of those scathing comments to himself. If that made any sense at all, which it didn't.

  Hours alone turned into days alone. And days alone turned into weeks alone. He only had a few more days before his flight back to Florida. And among those few, short days was Rosa's wedding. He wasn't sure if he should go. For all he knew, he was considered uninvited by Scarlett. Would Rosa think him rude if he didn't show? Would she think him rude if he did show? He just wasn't sure what he should do in this situation. All he knew was that he was sorry for thinking and saying all of those mean retorts. If only he could reverse time.

  It was the Friday before he had to leave to go back to Florida when his phone buzzed for the first time in days. His heart leapt. Could it be? Would she forgive him? But he was disappointed to read the caller ID.

  "Hey, Chris," he said gloomily into the phone.

  "Uh, hey. Just wondering if you could do me a major favor." Christian seemed to be out of breath.

  "What's that?"

  "So I kind of…um…my keys got locked in my car."

  "Okay," Tristan replied slowly.

  "I was wondering if you could come down here and help me."

  "And what exactly am I supposed to do about your keys being locked in your car?"

  "There's a spare hanging on a hook in the kitchen. If you could drive my mom's car to the school, I would be forever grateful."

  "Yeah, sure. I can do that."

  Tristan slid his phone into his pocket and made his way to the kitchen. Walking outside was a shock. He hadn't left the house for about a week and a half, and the cool, brisk air was refreshing. But it still didn't cheer him up. He still felt as if his heart was made of rock and his head was made of concrete.

  It didn't take him long to get down to the high school, and sure enough, Christian was waiting by his car with a meek expression of humility on his face.

  "Thanks, man."

  "Sure, no problem," Tristan said, handing over the spare keys. "So, uh…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Have you seen Scarlett around school lately?" It was a dumb questio
n, but that wasn't what he was thinking about. He realized that simply saying her name made his throat burn and his heart race.

  Christian froze for a minute, before he fumbled with his keys. "Yeah, why? Did you two get into a fight or something?" Another dumb question. It must be hereditary. Of course, everyone knew that Scarlett and Christian's mysteriously good look-a-like were fighting. It was always big news when someone who was even mildly popular was in a fight with his or her significant other.