Violet
O kay, I was way too harsh just then. Crap. Why did I lash out at Jude like that? Why lose my freaking mind? Because sure, he was kind of an ass, but I went full nuclear on him. There’s a smoking crater where he just stood.
All I know is we were spinning together, dancing , his filthy whispers tickling my ear—and as he held me, happiness and relief sung through my blood. It felt like everything I’ve been craving for the last few years; like coming home after a long, hard journey. So perfect.
Then… he said that .
The thing about me kneeling for him. About me begging. Those words hit me like a blow to the stomach. And I guess they broke something inside me, made me flinch and lash out, but not because I was repulsed. Not at all.
But because it’s true.
Holy hell.
How many times have I pictured exactly that while laying in bed at night? Kneeling for my arch rival and begging for a taste? How many times have I longed to surrender, to toss our power struggle away completely, to give myself over to Jude Jenkins and let him do whatever he wants to me? How many freaking times have I got myself off to that thought, my fingers moving busily under the covers?
Too many to count.
And it’s like he peeled back my layers and shone a spotlight on my darkest, shadiest corners. My secret wishes and fears. My shame. Like Jude sees me, even in this, and I can’t stand it. It’s too much, too raw, too painful.
Jude Jenkins sees too much for his own good.
Because if we ever did that … if we acted out those secret daydreams, shedding our rivalry to become something more… that would require so much trust. Unconditional faith. And how could we ever have that after everything we’ve said and done? After all the traded insults; the constant sparring; the mean little pranks? The cutthroat competition and all the times we’ve said we hate each other?
The baggage between us two is overwhelming. It’s a whole freaking mountain range of emotional suitcases piled high, one that would take every ounce of courage and strength to hike over. And even if we could get past all of that, even if we made it to the summit, there’s the small matter of what I’ve just done, right here at this party.
The way I just rejected Jude so harshly, his dark blue eyes flared with pain and resentment. The way I did it in front of everyone too, like a complete jerk.
Tugging on my dress, I clear my throat.
So much regret. Music thumps across the rooftop, vibrating my bones, and my tongue is thick when I swallow.
Where did Jude go? Is he okay?
Does he really hate me now?
But it’s no use: no matter how much I tug my dress straight, I can still feel my rival’s hands on me, scorching my body through the silk. The ghost of his breath tickles my earlobe, and without his body heat pressed against my front, I shiver.
It’s a cool night. The sun shone hot all day, baking this rooftop, but now the temperature has dropped and the cold breeze slices through my dress and chills my skin. The guys from the Legal department keep staring at me, laughing and whispering together, like we’re all in high school rather than grown adults. Jeez.
My steps are wobbly as I weave back through the crowd, hunting for a pair of indigo eyes. Normally I’m good in heels, but after what just happened, I’m as trembly as a baby deer. There’s a sick feeling in my stomach, this queasy certainty that I’ve gone badly wrong—that I’ve gone too far this time, and cracked this thing between us beyond repair.
Sure, Jude was kind of a dick. But I can’t pretend to be shocked—can’t act like we’re just regular coworkers and he said something awful. The fact is we’ve been dancing around each other for years, stewing in sexual tension, and he didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. If I’m honest with myself, I liked it. I liked when he spoke to me like that, all husky and heated.
Oh, god.
What if he won’t look at me on Monday?
Or what if he does, but he’s all cold and distant?
Shit, what if Jude Jenkins won’t tease me anymore? What if he treats me like everyone else, with polite professionalism?
I’m gonna throw up.
“There you are.” Lucy appears at my side, worry pinching her forehead. If she weren’t my best friend I’d barely recognize her tonight, because gone is the cardigan and glasses and her neat auburn bun. Instead, my curvy bestie looks like a movie star. Her hair spills over her shoulder in glorious waves, and her red dress accentuates her hourglass figure. All around us, our coworkers do double-takes, squinting as they try to place Lucy as the mouse from the Accounts department. “Are you okay? You look pale.”
“I’m fine.” My throat is drier than the Sahara, but I’m not about to ruin Lucy’s night too with my drama. Not when she dressed up like this , and somehow landed a date with the company heartthrob. Speaking of which… “Where’s Darius?”
The blush that crawls up Lucy’s chest can’t be fake. Her smile is wobbly. “He’s getting us drinks.”
I force a smile. “That’s sweet. Are you gonna tell me how you two wound up dating?”
To my surprise, Lucy’s shoulders slump, and she won’t meet my eye. “We’re not… that is, tonight is more of, um…”
The band finishes one song and strikes up the next. Someone shrieks with laughter nearby, and the mist from the swimming pool snakes between our bare legs.
“A casual thing?” If I don’t guess, we might never get there. Lucy’s all folded over, fiddling with her bracelet, and I hate that my question burst her bubble so easily. How do I build her back up again?
“No.” Darting a look at our nearby colleagues, Lucy leans in and whispers. “It’s a practice run. To teach me how to date, you know? Darius heard me say I need practice and he, um. He offered to help.”
He what?
“Darius Amin offered to fake date you.” My voice is flat. “To help you practice.”
“Um. Yes.”
“ The Darius Amin.”
AKA the guy all the receptionists swoon over. The man with the Hollywood good looks and model-worthy clothes. The man who makes incredible music and attracts big name stars to our agency. The Grapevine celebrity. That guy?
Sure, I’ve never been into him, because I’ve been wrapped up in my crush on Jude. But even I can objectively see: Darius Amin is a catch. And he’s out here fake-dating people? Sneakily offering Lucy practice like it’s no big deal?
Apparently Jude Jenkins is not the only agent of chaos in this company.
And maybe it’s all fun and games to the composer, but the blush scorching my best friend’s cheeks says it means something to her. She keeps biting her lip against a shy smile. My chest tightens, and god, I can’t handle any more heartbreak tonight. It’s been bad enough already.
So I mean well when I take Lucy’s hand and squeeze her fingers. “You be careful, okay? Don’t… don’t put your heart on the line.”
Her mouth curves down, but Lucy nods and squeezes my fingers back. “I won’t. I’ve got this, Vi, I promise. I know a guy like Darius isn’t really meant for a girl like me.” And that’s not what I meant at all, not the message I wanted to send, but Lucy glances over my shoulder and pastes a brave smile on her face. “He’s coming now. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Hm. Am I okay?
Well, judging by my knee-jerk public rejection of Jude and the way I just accidentally trampled my best friend’s confidence, I’d say I’m a walking disaster. A wobbly, queasy disaster. Maybe I should find a dark corner and stand there alone until I can trust myself not to hurt any more feelings. Maybe I should move to a tropical island and live as a hermit, surviving on crabs and coconuts. Yeah.
“I’m good.” Lucy starts to turn away, but I tug her back gently by the hand. “You look beautiful, Luce. You’re seriously such a bombshell, and any guy would be lucky to have you. Have fun tonight, okay?”
“Of course!” She hugs me, but I don’t think my words sink in. Damn it. “You too. Knock Jude Jenkins dead.”
Oof.
I’d rather wrap myself around his big, lean body and hug until he forgives my earlier outburst, but hey. That is less catchy.
Lucy turns and heads toward Darius, the crowd swallowing her whole. Everything in me aches as I watch her go.
Hugging my waist, I peer around the roof, searching for Jude, and failing that… a quiet spot to hide.