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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.
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.
A dull ache settles into my ribs, ironclad resolve starting to crumble. When she stifles a tiny sob, something inside me breaks. She’s cried too many times over me as it is. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe I’m about to do this. And I wouldn’t, for anyone else. “I can keep him for now.”
“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.
It’s a strange reversal of the scenario with Preston. Whereas I didn’t know what I wanted to happen with him, I know exactly what I wish would happen with Nash, even though I also know it’s a bad idea. Maybe I’m a little unstable from the long day.
I’m gone, so far gone. He’s an addiction I’ve fallen straight back into, hooked on the way he touches me and already aching for another fix.
“I missed you, Vi.”
My throat clenches. “I missed you, too.”
How can he be Mr. Wrong when he’s the only one who’s ever made me feel this way?
I single-handedly decimated a good thing. I took a wrecking ball to our relationship, smashed it to pieces, and walked away. I neutralize my expression while
What kills me is, I’ve never told Violet that directly. When she said she loved me, I couldn’t bring myself to say it back—which goes to show how dysfunctional I am. I’d like to fall back on the whole, “actions speak louder than words” concept to defend myself, but I’m not so sure I’m great at showing how I feel, either.
According to a previous session we had this spring, she believes I have “attachment issues.”
It’s not an excuse, but it’s a major contributing factor as to why I screwed things up so spectacularly with Violet the first time around. Emotional intimacy is scary as hell for me, largely because I haven’t experienced much of it. From what I remember of my mother, she was kind and loving, but she’s been gone since I was four. From ages four to eighteen, I was on my own emotionally. Doug was worse than neglectful; he was a toxic presence in my life.
“What are you afraid of?” Everything. “Getting hurt.” It’s not a logical fear. I know this on a cognitive level, but it doesn’t change the dread that creeps in when I think about getting closer to her again. I have no real reason to suspect Violet is going to hurt me. That was a one-way street in our relationship, which she definitely didn’t deserve. “But this time around,” I add, “It’s different. Because I think my fear of losing her again might outweigh that.” “You’re saying you might be willing to take the risk?”
“I’m not sure I have a choice. I’ll never forgive myself if I let her get away again.” Long-repressed
“But that doesn’t make it any less scary. I’m convinced I’m going to fuck it up again.” “In what way?” she asks gently. “Everyone makes mistakes, and no relationship is perfect.” “Fuck it up like, not be enough for her or what she needs.” I’ve never been enough for Doug. What if I disappoint Violet, too?
Losing my virginity to Nash was like having a Ferrari for my first vehicle—and moving on to other guys was the equivalent of downgrading to a used, rusty Honda Civic. Sure, the Civic is a fine, reliable car. There’s nothing wrong with it. It might get you where you need to go … eventually. But it’s no Ferrari. The Ferrari might be a little impractical, but the performance can’t be beat.
At the end of the day, I don’t want the guy who’s going to ask if he can hold my hand. I want the one who’s going to tear off my underwear, grab my wrists, and pin me to the wall. Preferably while whispering filthy things in my ear about what he’s going to do to me next. It’s a bit of a problem. Especially when Nash is the wrist-grabbing, wall-pinning, dirty-talking type.
While spending time with him again has dredged up old feelings, there are new ones on top of those. I see that softer side to him that’s always been there. Often well hidden, but there, nonetheless. That’s the Nash I loved. The one who held my hand all over campus even though the guys on the team gave him shit for being whipped. Who bought me a necklace with an amethyst pendant from Tiffany’s while he was away for a tournament in New York City because it reminded him of me. Who used to sit and play with my
hair, reserving all the yellow Skittles for me while we watched cheesy movies. The one I made plans for the future with, who once promised me forever. That Nash could be worth taking another chance on—especially if he’s matured since then and his priorities are more in order. If he’s ready to put the work into a relationship and all that it entails, it could be worth it. The problem is, he’s always been a wildcard. Nash will never be the safe choice.
“I’m sorry, Vi.” “For what?” I whisper. “Everything.” A terse frown brackets his mouth. “For how things ended. All of it.”
“It stung, Vi. I mean … I know I drove you away, but you were never replaceable to me.” My lower lip wobbles, my chest burning. That’s it. I’m going to start crying in the middle of the dance floor. “Trust me, you weren’t replaceable to me, either.” He still isn’t. And that’s the problem.
“It’s just a lot. You’re a lot.” “Not trying to be, Vi. I just fucking missed you.”
“What is it that you want from me, Nash? Sex?” It’s a slap in the face. I just told her I cared about her, and this is the response I get? My shoulders stiffen, mouth opening and closing. Drawing in a slow breath, I exhale to the count of five, and swallow words that are better left unsaid. I realize that I hurt her—and on some level, I know that’s where this is coming from—but it doesn’t make it sting any less. She can blame the internship all she wants, but when it comes down to it, she doesn’t think we’re worth the risk. And I’m not talking academically. With a few more wordless steps, we
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“After the way we left things between us last time we talked, I thought you might be moving on.”
“I said I was giving you space. Not that I was giving up.” “I don’t like space,” I whisper. “I fucking hate it.” His large hand slips around the small of my back, and he ducks his head, lowering his mouth until it’s hovering above my own. My pulse careens as our breaths mingle, anticipation surging to a new high. Instead of his lips finding mine like I expect, he hangs back. The kiss I’m waiting for never comes. His eyelids hood. “You come to me, Vi.”
“Fuck, I want you.”
“Need you.” My head falls back against the wall, and my eyes drift shut. “I need you, too.” Need isn’t a strong enough word to describe it.
“What’s our word, Vi?”
It takes a second to register what he’s asking. It’s been a long time since we used it. Since I used one, period. No one else I’ve been with shared the same proclivities, and even
if they had, I wouldn’t have trusted them enough to try. My pulse goe...
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“Good girl.” He releases my face, stroking my damp hair. “And if your mouth is full?” “Tap three times,” I whisper, wondering ...
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“What’s wrong?” I comb my fingers through his damp hair, confused by the way he’s suddenly come to a halt. “I’m a mess over you,” he murmurs. “You don’t even seem to realize it.” My throat pulls tight at his unexpected confession. “Based on how I rushed out of the pool earlier, I’m not exactly the picture of stability.” Nash lifts his head, and when our gazes meet, my heart thumps against my ribs. “You don’t need to worry about other girls, Vi. I want you so bad I can’t fucking see straight.” “You’ve got me now.” In truth, he’s had me all along. “Yeah.” He grins, lowering his mouth to mine. “I
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This. This is all I want. In this moment, I don’t care about the past, the future, or what I’m risking. If it means having him, I’ll do it ten times over.
“I know what I said before, but I didn’t mean it, Vi. I’ll respect your wishes if you want to wait until the semester ends. I’m not going anywhere. Or with anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
There’s a pang in my heart because despite what I said to him at Fall Fest, that isn’t what I want. I know that’s not what he wants, either. After so much time apart, I can’t imagine letting more slip away. “I don’t want to wait. We just need to be careful.” At least, going forward.
“How are you still horny?” His refractory period is nearly non-existent; maybe it’s an athlete thing. “I’m always horny for you. Especially when you’re laying here, freshly fucked, with me dripping down your legs.” He fills me with a finger, followed by another. My mouth falls open on a whimper as my core flutters, thighs clenching. “There’s nothing hotter.”
“If I can’t take you on a date in public, I figured I should do something else.” A lingering hint of nervousness beneath his half-smile endears him to me even more. “Though it took twice as long as it should have because someone kept destroying it.” As if on cue, Biscuit trots into the fort with a stuffed monkey in his mouth. “Thank you.” I swallow, blinking back the moisture pooling behind my eyelids. “This is so sweet. I love it.”
Underneath this canopy, closed off from the rest of the world, it feels like nothing else matters. For a few moments, neither of us speaks. I shut my eyes, reveling in the way we fit together, snug and secure, perfectly matched.
“Give me another chance, Vi. A real chance. No more one foot in, one foot out.”
His words hit hard because that’s exactly what I’ve been doing—holding back to protect myself, although it hasn’t been working. There is no playing it safe when it comes to love; it’s a contact sport for your heart. Falling for him again is a foregone conclusion. I’m so head over heels that I think I might be permanently upside down.
I can man up and give Violet what she needs. What she deserves, frankly.
“For the record, it has never been ‘just sex’ with you,” I tell her, gently angling her face back up to mine. “Sex makes me feel closer to you, sure. But you could remove it from the equation, and I would still want to be around you all the time.” “You would?” “Of course.” I love spending time with Violet. She’s one of the only people on the planet who doesn’t annoy the shit out of me.
“I want to be with you, but I’m afraid you’re going to pull back like you did last time.” Even though I know that won’t happen, I can understand why she’s worried. Difference is, I’m better at compartmentalizing Doug now. Not perfect, but I won’t let him fuck with my head when it comes to Violet again.
After five days of being torn down from morning until midnight, I arrived back at college in a full-on tailspin. Then, stupidly, I sabotaged myself until I ran our relationship right into the ground. But I won’t fuck this up twice. I won’t let myself.
“Let me caveat this by saying, this isn’t an excuse. What I did was shitty, but things were different back then. I was young and immature. And honestly, I got scared.”
“Scared of what?” “Lots of things. Fucking it up. Not living up to what you needed. Losing you.” Her expression remains curious, lacking any judgment, and it gives me the courage I need to keep talking. “I know none of this makes sense when I say it out loud because it was a self-fulfilling prophecy. I’m working on it. Not saying it’s fixed, but I understand it a little better now, and that’s the first step.” Surprise flickers across her face. “Working on it? What do you mean?” An imaginary fist winds around my throat, constricting my airway until I can barely breathe. “In therapy,”
“I’m scared now,” I admit. “But I’m here, and that part won’t change.”
her expression uncharacteristically stern. “If this is going to work, I need you to be honest with me and tell me if there’s a problem instead of withdrawing.”
“I will. But speaking of problems, I need you to handle something for me.”
