Good Grades & Mystery Games (North University Series Book 2)

I’m not a stupid person. On paper, I get straight A’s and I pass every test with flying colours. I have basic road safety knowledge, I know first-aid and I can start and put out a fire. But for some reason, I act like an absolute fool around Scarlett Voss.

Not only did I act like a dick by pulling her away from her date, but her friends also scalded me for it. Which also means if Wren were to complain to Miles, he wouldn’t shut up about it. Luckily, after watching Scarlett get into her car with that weird British dude, I got back, and Miles wasn’t home yet.

The first thing I did this morning was go for a run. I don’t usually run and I’m not the most athletic person, but after having a few days like I’ve just had, I need to burn off my energy somehow.

Scarlett’s being closed off about seeing her uncle at the restaurant, which is not helping because I need to give my dad some answers tonight. I think she’s afraid to say what I’ve been thinking.

From what she tells me, it makes sense that her uncle would try and attack her dad. He could have used the drugs to blackmail him while continuing to buy faulty diamonds to scare the businesses. It’s the perfect motive and the perfect story. Something about it being tied up so neatly with a bow on top doesn’t sit right with me. There is something messier, deeper, and darker that we’re missing out on.

My run quickly turned into a sprint, so I turned back towards my house, jogging on the cool-down.

When I get home, I shower, clean up the stubble on my chin and try my best to refresh myself. I can’t keep getting caught up in whatever green eyed monster that has taken over my brain when it comes to Scarlett. Mostly, it’s a primal, protective nature that I have over her. I’ve always been like this, and she’s just been too in her head to notice. I’m mostly at the events she attends, and I covertly protect her. I make sure no creeps or weirdos go near her or when they do, I give them a look to fuck right off. I make sure she gets home alright every night.

Even being in competition, our families have known each other for years which meant I knew Scarlett growing up – sort of. We attended events together when we were in kindergarten and middle school. We never really spoke, but there was always this strange comfortable silence that settled between us whenever we were alone.

She’s the youngest of four brothers and I’m the only son of a multi-millionaire who developed anxiety early on and obsessive compulsive disorder not too long after. We were both ignored and belittled. Without knowing, we found a silent solace within each other. It’s ironic now because all we do is argue.

Once I’ve gotten ready, it’s well into the second period and I know that I’ve missed class. The way I lose track of time sometimes worries me. I’ll be reading a book, trying to forget for a few minutes and then three hours have passed. I don’t know how I managed to do it this morning. I could’ve sworn my run only lasted twenty minutes. Maybe I shouldn’t have skipped breakfast.

I don’t bother to give a lame apology to Anderson about missing class and I head towards the music rooms instead.

The rooms are each small soundproof cubicles with a piano on one side of the wall, a mirror above it so when I look in it, I can see the door.

Once I’ve put my bags to one side in the corner, I stretch out my fingers and I start playing. What comes most naturally is Bach’s ‘Prelude in C major’, which is the first composition I learned without sheet music. I can play almost anything by ear now, but as a kid, it was one of my great achievements.

Now, I don’t even think twice as I let the music carry me to a place beyond this room. To a place where my mom was still living with us and we’d spend the morning waking my dad up by sharing a seat on the bench next to the Steinway, doing a duet. To a place where my anxieties could be soothed by a book and some music. To a place where it’s just pure, quiet tranquillity and silence where I’m not obsessing over numbers.

I make a smooth transition into SYML’s ‘Where’s my love,’ closing my eyes as I allow my body and my mind to settle. My hands mostly move on their own accord, playing the song seamlessly. It’s a beautiful song. It’s one of the few non-classical songs that I take my time to perfect. I had to learn this one to perfection or else it would never do the original justice.

I’m lost somewhere between the chorus and the verse when I open my eyes for a split second and I take a look in the mirror, Scarlett is standing in the doorway, her tote bag on her shoulder, dressed in a two piece black corset top and a black skirt. It gives off the same flair as Voss clothing, but I’ve never seen it on the website. Her eyes are closed and she’s listening to me play.

I don’t get nervous playing around people. Sometimes my dad would make me sit in the living room at soirées just to get the guests to gush over me. But it’s judgemental, poised, Scarlett Voss who is listening to me play. I go back to playing, trying not to make it obvious that I know she’s there.

I get around to the chorus again and she starts to hum. I don’t mean to be dramatic – actually, I don’t care how insane this sounds – but the way Scarlett is humming right now is the sound I want to hear when I go to heaven. People can sing, sure. People can play instruments, or they can dance. But the way she’s humming is sculptured, crafted, just pure perfection. A lot like her.

Then the worst thing that could possibly happen, happens.

She starts to sing.

It’s not loud. She probably doesn’t even notice she’s doing it. I love that she does that sometimes. She says things, whispers them, or she touches things and I swear she’s so in her head sometimes it’s like she doesn’t realise she’s doing it. It’s a quiet whisper, but her enunciation of the words seems like she’s had real practice or training. It’s in a lower key to how the song is originally played, but it contrasts perfectly with the key I’m playing in. After a few seconds, she goes back to humming and I can’t help myself.

“Holy shit, you can sing,” I say as I stop playing. Her eyes catch mine in the mirror and her expression isn’t what I expected. She doesn’t look like she’s been caught or that she’s embarrassed. She just seems at peace.

“I can’t,” she argues.

“You can.”

“Barely.”

“Totally,” I correct. She drops her gaze from mine in the mirror to my hands on the piano. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“It’s not a secret,” she challenges. I shrug. “Why weren’t you in class today?”

“I overslept,” I lie. She wouldn’t understand if I tried to explain what it’s like to be in my head sometimes.

“Bullshit… but I don’t care,” she says, waving her hand at me. “Look. I’ve got to cancel the next study session for the project. I’ve got a date.”

Great. She’s spending more time with that fuckwad, Max. I don’t know him very well, but after a quick google search, I’m fine with keeping my distance. He’s got a successful family, but he doesn’t act like it. He acts like a regular twenty-something who doesn’t feel like he needs to impress anyone. Which is ridiculous if he’s dating Scarlett.

The girl has looks to kill. Any man would be stupid not to be on their knees begging her for even a minute of attention from her.

“What? Why do you look like you’re going to puke?” she asks, stepping back a little from me. I glance at myself in the mirror, and I look pale.

“I’m not,” I say defensively. She doesn’t seem too convinced as she raises an eyebrow at me. “I’m just surprised you’re dating him because you’re…”

“What? Successful, funny, smart, intelligent, interesting, amazing…” she lists. I swear this woman and her ego will be the death of me. She takes a deep breath and continues listing things about herself which are no doubt true.

“Hot,” I say, cutting her off. Her surprise is just as good as mine. I rub my hand across my face, defeated, as I see the grin crawling up her face. I can’t help but clarify, “You’re hot.”

“Oh my god,” she gasps. “Evan Branson thinks I’m hot.”

“You didn’t need me to tell you that.”

She points at me, making a clicking sound as if she’s forgotten something. “Ah, you’re right, I didn’t. But it still felt good.” She smiles at me, but I’m not smiling back, realising what a dumb mistake I made feeding into her ego. She shakes her head as if to get rid of what she was thinking. “Plus, just because we’re going on a date doesn’t mean we’re dating. We’re just fooling around…consistently.”

“It sounds like you’re dating to me,” I say. She ends the eye contact in the mirror and instead stands beside the piano, leaning one arm into the top, revealing a sliver of skin on her stomach and hip and I can see the tattoo peeking out again. God, I want to know what it says so badly.

She snorts. “What do you know about relationships? It’s weird, actually. You’re constantly surrounded by beautiful women, like me as you said, but you never take them home. Why is that?”

I laugh this time. “Okay, calm down. I never called you beautiful. I said you’re hot. There’s a difference.”

There isn’t a difference. You couldn’t put Scarlett’s beauty into words if you tried. Those two words are pathetic excuses of adjectives trying to define the woman in front of me. Nothing could truly do her justice.

“Evan,” she presses.

“Scarlett.”

“Just answer the question, you idiot,” she urges.

I sigh, rolling my head back a little. “I just don’t want to. I had a relationship in my first year and it didn’t end very nicely. More for me than for her.”

She shakes her head at me. “That’s why you gotta do what I do.”

“And what’s that?” I ask. “Just fooling around?” She nods, grinning. “Doesn’t everyone’s feelings just get hurt?”

“You’d have to have actual feelings for the person for them to get hurt. See, I do this thing where I detach myself from the person I’m sleeping with.”

“How the hell do you manage to do that?”

She sighs now, looking around the room, trying to find the words for what she’s trying to explain. It already sounds like a dumb idea. And impossible for somebody like me.

“Sex is supposed to be liberating, Evan. A release. It doesn’t have to be this magical, slow, candle-lit experience. Sometimes, all I want is a good time and a quick fuck.” I just blink at her because holy shit. I had an idea that is how she operates, but hearing her say it aloud is jarring. A quick fuck. She narrows her eyes at me as I still stare because…holy shit. “Anyway. I don’t know why I just told you all that. Erase it from your memory now.”

“Done,” I whisper.

Only I know I won’t be able to. It’s hard to forget things when it comes to her. Even when she’s gone, I’m still thinking about it.

My mind goes rotten as I think about exactly what she means by a quick fuck. Does she need to be attracted to a person to do that or is she constantly chasing the release of an orgasm? Then my mind goes into an even filthier place, thinking about what she would look like on her knees, desperate, soaking wet and needing for me to touch her. Her hands tied behind her back with that stupid fucking ribbon so she can’t touch herself. The power she would lose to stop talking about me while my cock is down her-

Oh, fuck.

I’m attracted to Scarlett Voss, and I want her.

Badly.

* *  *

When I get to the Branson estate, I see a black Ferrari in the driveaway. I know my uncle Jack is here. He and my dad are fraternal twins, but as a kid, they’d always manage to trick me into believing Jack was my dad. They don’t look much alike now as my dad is desperately still trying to grow out his grey hair while Jack shaved his into a buzzcut. Being around both of them, you’d think they’re college students who never grew out of their ‘I’m still in competition with my brother’ phase.

All in all, it’s always fun being around them. Mostly because Jack constantly makes fun of my dad, and my dad lets him.

When I walk through the doors to the living room, they’re not in there, only Mila rolling around on the rug. I kneel down next to her, trying not to crease my shoes as I scratch her on the stomach. She’s such a good dog. I sometimes wonder if she gets lonely here, though. I know my dad would never admit it, but when I come here early in the morning and my dad’s just getting out of bed, I know she sleeps in the bed with him. I guess they keep each other company.

“Junie was too good for you.” I hear my uncle’s voice booming from the room over. Great. So, we’re doing this again. I lean against the swivelling door, trying to get a better listen only to be hit with a strong wave of Deja vu.

“You think I don’t know that, Jack?” my dad responds, sounding exhausted.

“You shouldn’t have let her go.”

“The best thing I could do for all of us was to let her go. You know that.”

I accidentally put too much pressure on the door, and it swivels open. I stumble a little, but try and style it out, brushing off my shoulders as if this was meant to happen. My dad and Jack are sitting beside a small table, an unfinished game of Go on it as they both lounge in a plush chair on each side. Jack has the biggest smile on his face while my dad shakes his head at me, picking up his glass.

As he slams it on the table, he says, “Haven’t you learned your lesson from last time, boy?”

I shrug, taking a seat across from them. “It’s great to see you too, dad. And you, Uncle Jack.”

“It would be great to see you too, but your dad is telling me you’ve not been doing your job,” Jack coos, shaking his head. I roll my eyes.

“Which job? The one where I have to lie to someone I actually like so you can try and take her family down?”

“That’s the one,” Jack says triumphantly. I lounge back in the chair, rolling my head back. I don’t want to keep doing this to her. Especially not with the realisation that I might actually, definitely like her more than I would ever admit. “You said you like her.”

“Yes, but not like that,” I lie. Jack studies me for a minute, nodding.

“I get it. She’s pretty and you’re distracted. There are millions of beautiful women, Evan,” Jack explains. But there’s nobody like her. No one could even come close to the type of beauty and confidence she exudes.

“That’s beside the point,” my dad says. “What’s new?”

I tell them everything I can. Scarlett isn’t giving me much to work with since she hasn’t spoken to her uncle since we saw him at the restaurant. I explain to them how it must be him behind all of this and his lack of encouragement for Scarlett continuing the case could be because he was trying to make sure that she didn’t find out it was him.

“And..” dad says.

“And something is still missing,” I admit. Jack stops looking out of the window, and he turns to me now, silently urging me to continue. “I don’t know what it is, but something doesn’t feel right. It makes sense that it is him, but we have nothing to pin it on him. Nothing substantial anyway.”

“That’s what I’ve been asking you to find out,” my dad says. He rubs his hand down his face, sighing. “It’s no good hanging out with this girl to not get something concrete. We can’t have you wasting your time.”

“I’m not wasting my time. You try getting information out of a twenty-year-old girl who wouldn’t even look at me a few weeks ago,” I challenge. They both snort. “Look, it’s not going to be easy. We’ve known that. But I’m telling you, the second it gets too dangerous, I’m out. For all of our sake.”

My dad blinks at me. I had to draw the line somewhere. Each day we’re getting closer and closer to something it also means we’re getting close to whoever hurt Scarlett’s dad. They could hurt us too if we’re not careful. I’d easily risk my life for her, but I don’t want to be in a position where that would have to be the case.

“Okay, fine,” my dad concedes. “Just figure it out quick, boy.”