her eyes against the oncoming flakes. White diamond flecks touched her skin, clinging without melting, and in that moment she seemed almost unreal to me—an ice princess.
I started to say that Maggie Beautiful believes snow is an omen in Louisiana, that nature tends to send in a mild nonoccurrence before she releases a natural disaster. But I stopped myself. Instead I said, “We’ll see.”
“We’ll see is better than no, I guess.” She grinned, the reaction warming her face, melting the ice. My heart started to beat faster. “That’s what my mom says when I ask for something farfetched.”
We’ll see. My go-to response after Maggie Beautiful asked me for something, which was usually farfetched, but I kept silent. She was smart enough to know that it usually meant no.
“You’re not much of a talker, are you?”
I blinked the snow from my lashes. “Not by nature, no.”
She nodded. “Why did you stay? Instead of going to the party? I assume you came here with Elliott and Nick.”
I took a deep breath in and let it out. I could smell her in the chilliness of the air: popcorn from the party, leather from my jacket, and something mild but recognizable on her skin and clothes. Rose perfume. Not the kind older women wore. Something subtle, closer to the real thing. Sweet. Doused in snow, the cold made the scent stronger.
“Nick.” I repeated his name, harder than I had intended. For some reason the way she had said his name made my fingers curl into fists. I had to take a deep breath and then release it slowly. The air felt like cold, blue fire in my lungs.
Something I had never known reared its head for the first time.
In under a second, I had to erect iron bars to keep it in check. To restrain it from springing loose and causing havoc. The something that came to life had a mean and ugly temper.
She studied me in the darkness for a moment. I got the feeling whatever she felt from me had spoken to her, louder than the name I had spoken out loud. Her next response seemed to come from reading the unspoken thoughts in my mind.
“Nothing,” she whispered, turning her face away for a moment, giving me her profile. “He’s my brother’s friend.” Her cheeks flushed with blood, making her blush spread like fire.
I cleared my throat. “I lost interest in going,” I said, answering her question. Choosing to ignore the insane rattling of bars.
She moved her ballet shoe across the cement, creating a line in the snow. “Does that happen to you often?”
This time, I allowed the grin. For the first time, she really made an attempt to see me in the darkness. Struggling to make out my features, she took a small step forward, her eyes scrunched to almost slits. She was more afraid of me then she let on—I could almost hear the pulse thrumming in her neck—but something possessed her to stay out in the snow and talk.
Un piccolo gattino curioso: A curious little kitten.
“Depends on what it is,” I said.
“I’ll need more than that.” She pinched her fingers. “Just a little?”
Enough about me. I’d find out more about her. “Does that—” I motioned around the area with a hand, thinking of her crying fit, or whatever it’s called when girls cry that hard “—happen often?”
“That—” she took a deep breath and let it out slowly “—never happens. I can’t explain it.” She took her voice down to a whisper. “It’s the worst feeling I’ve ever felt. The panic. The helplessness. My palms are sweaty just thinking of it.” She rubbed them together to prove her point.
“You seem to be okay now.”
She nodded, her stare lost in the shadows, with me. “I’m going to be. My heart is better.” She smiled, almost shyly, and I couldn’t stop myself from returning it.
“Scarlett!” An older woman in ballet clothes rushed out of the studio. She stopped short when she noticed Scarlett wasn’t alone in the darkness. Placing two elegant hands on Scarlett’s shoulders, the woman spoke to her in rapid French.
“All right.” Scarlett’s demeanor changed, became more professional. Even the tone of her voice became more mature, more commanding, as if she were in the position of power. “But give me a moment. I was just having a word with one of Elliott’s friends. Je vous remercie.”
The woman studied me for a moment and then spoke in French again. Quieter this time. Scarlett answered her in the same language, as