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“I’ll drive you home.” Alarm bells sound in my head. Going places with Nash. Alone. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.
“Three options, Vi. Either I drive you home”— he holds up three fingers to illustrate, ticking them off one by one—"you get campus Safewalk to come escort you, or I walk you to the train and wait with you. Take your pick.”
Spending time with Nash is like putting my heart up for target practice.
“I thought you said we couldn’t be friends,” I blurt, stepping off the curb to cross a utility road. His gaze slides over to me. “We can’t.” “Then why do you care what happens to me?” We slow to a stop under a yellow-tinted streetlamp. It casts half of his face in shadows, making him even more difficult to read than usual. “Same reason I can’t be your friend.”
I’d rather have you rub me down.”
It’s like the universe is conspiring to make this situation look as sketchy as possible.
Being with her is the highlight of my day.
I was numb.
“Auntie!” Lincoln and Willow squeal in unison.
Whenever I start to become too cynical about love—which is fairly often, because I’m a college student in today’s Tinder-riddled society—I look at my parents, and I know that it can happen for some people.
Maybe butterflies aren’t worth chasing if they fade over time.
In my world, butterflies are on the endangered species list. Experienced with precisely one person, never to be found again.
Connor doesn’t understand what it’s like to be so hung up on someone, you can’t even fathom the idea of sleeping with someone else.
“Who’s the hot blonde on your bench, Richards?” Rage flickers inside me me and I grit my teeth, shoving it down. Despite that, something about my reaction must give me away, because triumph registers across Eriksen’s face. No big surprise there; Violet is my kryptonite.
I’m not especially interested in Devin, but even if I was, it would be impossible to flirt when there’s a furious giant shooting daggers at us with his eyes from afar. Which is Nash’s intention, I’m sure.
Devin shoots him a bored look. “Need something, Richards?” “Fuck off, Henderson.” Nash slides an arm around my waist, sending a rush through my body that I want to call irritation but might be something else.
What a hypocrite. He had a girl all over him not even two seconds ago. Did I swoop in and act all territorial? No. I watched it from afar while pretending not to, like a normal person.
“It’s not your place—” I start to say. “Now.” Nash juts his chin, his attention still fixed on Devin. “Unless you’d like to watch the res...
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Finally, Devin glances down at me with a cocky smile. “Come grab me later if you want.” “Not going to happen,” Nash practically snarls.
“You’re an asshole.” “Never said I wasn’t.”
“You can’t act like that every time a guy talks to me.” “Don’t worry, I already told the team you’re off-limits. Word will travel around campus from there, and that issue will take care of itself. No one who values their life will get within ten feet of you.”
“Off limits? Why?”
“You know why.”
“Trust me, I have zero interest in dating any of your teammates. But like I was saying, it isn’t your place to scare guys off. We’re ancient history.” “Hardly.” Taking another step, he comes to stand directly above me, the warmth of his skin heating mine. “We were too many things to ever be ancient history.”
“Many of those things were bad,” I manage. “Many of them were good.” The good times were good. Delicious. Amazing. Sweet, even. But the bad times were brutal.
“Devin is a fucking creep.” I scoff, taking another ill-advised sip of alcohol. “There is some serious irony behind the idea of you protecting me. Not to mention, it’s none of your business.” “It is absolutely my business.”
“If Devin roofies your drink—which he’s known for doing—I’m the one who will be taking care of you later because you’re sure as fuck not leaving with him.”
“Why, because I don’t stay up to date on all the varsity gossip? Did it ever occur to you that might be intentional? I’ve been trying to avoid all the stories about you sleeping with half of the girls in our school.”
“Well, some of that gossip might contain useful information. Like who the date rapists are around campus.” “How did I ever survive without you?”
“Between this and that murder trap of a transit station,” he says slowly, “I’m not sure how you survived, either.” I set my glass on the bar, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”
I would do bad things just for the chance to see Violet naked again. And then I would do bad things to her.
Is it weird to be jealous of a foam roller? Because I think I am.
“Are you going to watch me foam roll, or what?” I mean, yeah. Is that an option? “You’re cute when you’re all sweaty.”
“Pretty sure I’m a total mess right now, but whatever works for ya.” Oh, it’s working for me.
it’s that I’m impatient as fuck to see Violet. I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to her. All I know is that I can’t stay away. Every time I try, I feel like a junkie going through withdrawals.
“Taking the train is reckless, now?” I stroll over to where she’s seated. “When you’re the size of Tinker Bell?” Stepping around the desk, I come to a halt less than an arm’s length away, peering down at her. “Yes.”
There’s a pecking order inside this vehicle, and stray puppies trump asshole ex-boyfriends.
How did I end up with a dog in my passenger seat and Top 40 music on the radio? Only Violet could land me in this scenario.
“All black, white, and gray, huh?” I ask. “Trying to make sure Biscuit matches the Grizzlies’ team colors?” Nash grunts but says nothing. Probably because I’m right.
Truth is, I know he did this for me, and I think it’s incredibly sweet. I’m just not sure what to make of it.
Realistically, I know all we can do is try to find him the best home possible. Preferably one that will allow me visitation rights, because I’m already attached.
“You’re pulling out the Biscuit card so soon? I thought you’d hold onto that one for a while and save it for something good.” I’m trying to be playful but his mouth sets in a stern line, unwilling to bite.
“You still know my number, right?” “I do,” I admit, breaking eye contact. Know it? I can still dial it blindfolded, backward, and upside down. And I’ve had to talk myself out of doing just that countless times.
“Text me, then, ’cause I can’t text you.” “Why not?” I look up at him in confusion. His jaw tightens, but it’s hurt I detect and not anger. “You changed yours.” “Oh. Yeah, guess I did.”
Changing my number was one of several tactics I employed to help ease the post-breakup transition. Rebounding with Jay McAllister was another. So was dyeing my hair brown. Briefly flirting with the idea of transferring schools. Consuming a bill...
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“Why did you do that? So I couldn’t call you?” A rare flicker of vulnerability appears on his face. Every once in a while, I see pieces of him like this that I suspect no one else ever does. “No.” I huff, scrambling to fight another tide of tears creeping in.
“I changed it a few months after we broke up so I could tell myself that’s why you weren’t calling me. You know, instead of the real reason.”
“What do you think the real reason was?” Nash’s voice is uncharacteristically soft. “That you didn’t want to.” “No, Vi. I didn’t think you wanted...
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“But you must have tried at some point, if you know I changed my number.” “Yeah, I tried to call you last year.” He looks a little sheepish. “I was drunk after Vaughn’s twenty-first birthday party.” “What were you going to say?” My heart squeezes in my chest, simultaneously swelling with hop...
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I want more than anything for him to kiss me, and it terrifies the hell out of me.
