before something irrelevant could come out. Instead, I chose to get straight to the truth. “You told me to bring back what was yours. So—” I shrugged “—I did.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “I have eyes that see. Tell me something I don’t know.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. I felt the anger rise, rise, rise, until it came barreling out of my mouth. “You gave me the jacket. And now you want it back. Why didn’t you come and get it sooner if it meant that much to you?”
“Reasons.”
I took a step closer to him. I waved the ribbon of silk at him. “You have something of mine too. Something you took without permission. At least you gave me the jacket. I didn’t give you this.” I waved it harder.
He reached me in two strides, grabbing my wrist, stopping the frantic movement—the accusation. He applied just enough pressure to stop me but not hurt me. We glared at each other, neither of us moving, just breathing hard. His eyes searched mine, back and forth, back and forth, until he released me. It seemed hard for him to let me go, but he did.
“I found the thing—the strand of blue silk in your hand the night it snowed. It had been in your hair. You must’ve lost it on your way back in. I picked it up. I’ve had it ever since.” He waved a dismissive hand. “The jacket is yours. We’ve had this discussion before.”
“You told me to bring it back!”
“I didn’t.”
“Yes you did.”
This childish argument went on for a couple of minutes until finally he became adult enough to steer the conversation in a different direction.
“Give me the exact time I said the words bring me back my jacket.”
“You said, ‘You have something of mine. Bring it back to me.’ Well—” I lifted my hands and slapped them against my legs “—today is the day.”
He pointed at me. He pointed to himself. “You thought I was talking about the leather jacket.”
“Of course. What else have you ever given me?”
“Scarlett.” He took a step closer, but not as close as he had been. He turned his face away from mine and looked outside, at the rain coming down in sheets. “The jacket is yours.”
“I’m confused, Brando. What did you mean then?”
He held up a hand. “Give me a second.” He cleared his throat. “You. Whatever it was you gave me that night in the snow. Mine.”
The moment of silence that passed between us was interlaced with the sound of hard pounding rain and that eerie sound the wind makes when it whistles past during a storm.
Finally, I collected my wits. Understanding hit me harder than the tempest outside the window.
“Oh,” I barely got out. “Oh,” I said a little louder.
He laughed, a humorless sound, still refusing to look at me. “Yeah. Oh.”
“I thought…” I slapped my hand against my head. “I didn’t think. I assumed. I—”
“You misunderstood.” He finally turned to me, perhaps having collected his own wits. The residue of oil on his face seemed to make his features more pronounced, like a beautiful man in a charcoal painting. The darkness of the coal highlighted all of his most prominent, perfect shapes and curves.
His face was angular, his cheekbones high and sharp. I had never noticed a man’s nose before, but it was close to impossible not to notice his. Coming to a point, it was neither small nor large, but somehow fit his face perfectly. His mouth was wide, his lips full enough to fit the strength of bone, and his teeth…I bet he brushed three times a day. The darkness of his hair complimented the bronze of his skin.
Each separate part of him seemed to be designed by a hand that created only beautiful things, but together, he became a creature that my eyes had never seen before. He was almost too gorgeous for his own good. And the intensity he seemed to produce as easily as sweat?
He was enough to send a sane woman running for the hills. Good thing I was not that.
I smiled, a bit shyly, thinking of him calling the ribbon a thing. I took a step forward and lifted the strip of silk. “This is called a ribbon. This one is really special to me. It came from my very first pair of ballet slippers. My mom wanted me to have pink ones, but I refused. I wanted blue.” The memory tugged at warm memories, and in return,