Anew

56

Scarlet watched TV for a few hours in the morning, trying to distract herself from thoughts of Tristan.

Last night in the kitchen, she’d felt something with him.

Something ancient, strong and ,,, beautiful.

Tristan didn’t hate her.

And she didn’t hate him. At all.

But she probably shouldn’t ever have a late night snack with him again.

The back door opened and Scarlet kept her eyes on the TV as Tristan passed by the living room.

Yesterday, she wanted to avoid him because he was a jerk.

Today, she wanted to avoid him so she didn’t do something stupid.

Like lick his ear.

He went into the office and shut the door behind him.

Scarlet sat for another two hours in front of the TV watching infomercials and Scooby-Doo, but not once did her head stop spinning with all things Tristan.

She was a rotten, rotten girlfriend.

While cartoons played in the background, Scarlet looked around the Archer’s living room. A large fireplace took up most of the back wall and there was a bench seat made of stone running along its length. Above the fireplace hung a hand-carved clock, beating steadily into the warm room. The sofas were tan and sat atop a giant rug, and a hand-carved coffee table stood in the center of the room.

All in all, it was cozy.

If Scarlet hadn’t felt so much like a prisoner in the woods, she probably would have loved the cabin. Her eyes fell to the end table beside her and spotted a pen.

She grabbed the pen and absently started drawing her practiced symbol on her ankle. She traced the design around the corner of her foot, leaned back and looked at it. It looked good at an angle.

Out of boredom, she decided to sketch the design on her hip as well. She lifted her shirt a few inches and drew out the circular strokes along her waist. After a few minutes, she lengthened the design and let it crawl up her ribcage before scooting down the waistband of her pants and letting the artwork trail down her lower belly.

A picture flashed in her mind and she decided to add something new to the bottom of the symbol. Biting her lip, she scribbled the new strokes low on her hip and—

“What are you doing?”

Scarlet immediately pulled her shirt down and her pants up, covering her exposed skin. She looked at Tristan with a blush.

“Are you drawing on yourself?” He sounded mad. More mad than he had a right to be.

Scarlet wrinkled her brow, confused. “Yeah, why? Have you…?” Scarlet looked at him hopefully. “Have you seen this symbol before?” She pointed to her ankle. Maybe Tristan would have the answers she was looking for.

Tristan, standing across from the couch, crossed his arms in front of his chest. He ignored her question. “You’re not in kindergarten, Scarlet. If you want to draw, draw on a piece of paper. Go wash it off.”

Scarlet raised her brow, her blush completely disappearing at his tone. “No,” she said, and lifted her shirt again. She started giving more detail to the design on her hip.

“Yes.” Tristan said with a warning look.

She tried to reach into him, to feel what he was feeling…all she got was anger and fear.

He was mad.

And now, so was she.

“No way,” Scarlet snapped. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Tristan. If I want to draw on my body with pen or cover myself in tar, you can’t stop me.” She kept scribbling. “Why do you care, anyway? Geez.”

Tristan let out a frustrated sigh. “Wash it off.”

“No.”

“Wash. It. Off,” Tristan bit out.

“You’re. In. Sane,” she countered, waiting a moment before looking at him.

Tristan looked at the ceiling. “Please?” His eyes pleaded with her.

Scarlet narrowed her eyes and paused. “Is there something about this design,” she pointed to her side, “that you’re not telling me?”

Tristan tucked his lips in and shrugged. “Gabriel’s going to be home any second.”

“So?”

“Whatever.” He threw his hands up with a groan before leaving the living room.

Scarlet continued drawing on her hip and lower belly, determined to complete the symbol in defiance.

Tristan was so weird.

And bossy.

And…mean.

So much for Pancake Tristan.

Regular Jerk Tristan was back.