Jude
T he trick to surviving parties like these is to find a home base. A secret spot with no other people around, preferably dark and quiet, where you can catch your breath and build up the willpower to get back out there again.
Tonight’s home base: a shadowy strip of roof far away from the band and crowds, with a trellis to lean against. The city is lit up down there like a fallen galaxy.
Music and laughter drift over here too, but they’re muted, carried off by a whistling breeze. And it’s colder away from all that body heat, so cold that I shiver beneath my navy shirt. The whiskey I knock back scorches a trail down my throat.
I’d throw myself off this roof before kissing you, Jenkins.
Those words play on a horrible loop in my brain. Round and round, until my gut aches and my temples throb.
Well, no one could accuse Violet Moore of mincing her words. She got her message across, that’s for sure. I tip my glass back again, but it’s empty, damn it, and only a few dregs trickle onto my tongue. Bending down, I place my glass on the floor with a sigh.
There’s not enough whiskey in the world—but that brand of self destruction has never been my style. I prefer to torment the love of my life until she loathes my presence. That’s my vice of choice.
My head is hazy as I straighten up, but not from the drink. I’ve got that dull, gnawing sense of horror—the kind which comes when you can’t quite believe something is real. It’s the same way I felt when I broke my ankle in college one week before our big basketball game; the same numbness that came over me as a ten year old kid hearing our family dog had died.
The numbness that says: this can’t be happening. This can’t be real.
Surely there’s been some cosmic error; I can’t truly have fallen madly in love with a woman who can’t stand me. I’d like a refund please, universe.
“Shit.” My head thumps back against the trellis, the leaves of a climbing vine rustling in response. This is not how I hoped tonight would go.
I pictured cool drinks, warm laughter, and trading friendly barbs with my beautiful rival. Violet rolling her eyes at me, her mouth twitching as she fights a smile; her soft voice in my ear on the dance floor, insulting me even as she presses closer. It seemed so clear, so inevitable, like a path laid in front of our feet.
Deluded. That’s what I was.
Can’t believe I called Hazel to check Violet would be coming tonight. Can’t believe I thought there was something real between us; an undeniable connection. I need my head checked.
“Is this a pity party for one, or can anybody join?”
Violet’s voice sends a pleased shudder down my spine. I stiffen where I’m leaning against the trellis, staring up at the stars.
Heels scrape against the stone roof. My rival approaches slowly, like I might spook at any sudden movements, and you know what? She’s not wrong.
Need to get out of here. Whatever Violet wants from me right now, it’s not something I can give, so I tug on my shirt collar and keep staring up at the night sky. My tone is light as I say, “It’s a private party, I’m afraid. By invitation only.”
She huffs a small laugh, and comes to stand by my side anyway.
Irritation snakes through my gut, coiling tight. What is she doing here? What does she want ? Can’t she see this is killing me?
“I’m hiding.” Violet’s confession is quiet, and her body heat seeps through my sleeve. “Tonight has been a disaster for me.”
“Diddums,” I say flatly.
And it’s such a relief to hear her snort, to feel her shoulder nudge my arm, that suddenly I don’t want her to leave after all. No: I want her here by my side, turning me inside out with how badly I want her. I want her private confessions and her teasing words, and I guess I have zero pride when it comes to this woman, because you know what? I don’t care if she doesn’t love me back.
I need her.
Tragic but true.
I’d rather spend the rest of tonight with Violet Moore, heartbroken and humiliated, than go back out to that party and be with anybody else.
How did I get here? How did she do this to me? Sometime over the last few years, in between griping about my messy desk and trading insults by the water cooler, this woman got into my blood.
“You’re a good dancer,” Violet says.
“Thank you. You, on the other hand, are shit.”
A sharp elbow digs into my ribs, but she’s laughing. “I am not!”
Please. “You stepped on my foot at least five times, and in those heels too. I could sue you for millions.”
“You won’t, though.”
“No.” Sniffing hard, I frown up at the winking stars. They’re faded by the city lights, the night sky made hazy by the constant glow, but I like to remember that even if we can’t see it, there’s a whole universe up there. Planets and black holes and asteroids. “Too much paperwork.”
Violet hums, shuffling close so that our arms press together—and my heartbeat jolts in response, shuddering faster. What is she doing? What happened to being repulsed by me?
I fucking hate the hope blooming in my chest. When will I learn my lesson? When will I take a goddamn hint? Not tonight.
“I’ll give you a do-over,” I say, testing the waters. “If you want to defend your honor, this is your chance. One dance to prove you’re not completely uncoordinated.”
Violet’s already turning to face me, and when I glance down, she looks hopeful in the gloom. The moonlight glints in her dark hair, and a cautious smile curves her lips.
Cautious? Violet Moore?
Body snatcher alert.
But when those slender arms loop around my neck, they’re oh so familiar.
This. Yeah. This is how it feels to have Violet Moore against my chest: this is her berry scent and her soft warmth, and that is her foot stepping on mine. It’s all perfect once again, and everything is right with the universe.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry.” Violet huffs, like I’m tricking her into stepping on my toes somehow. We turn in slow circles, too far away from the music to follow a beat. “Maybe if you didn’t have such giant clown feet, I wouldn’t step on them.”
“Way to victim-blame. But hey, you know what they say.” When I squeeze her waist, Violet’s sudden blush scorches me like a space heater. Adorable. “Giant clown feet? That means a giant clown—”
“Don’t!” Her face tucks in the crook of my throat, her shoulders shaking with laughter, and holy shit, I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m grinning up at the stars like a loon. “Please, . Do not say it. You’ll give me nightmares.”
That’s fair. Clowns are awful.
Pressing my face against the top of her head, I breathe her in.
And maybe Violet doesn’t want to date me. Maybe more than this is off limits. But perhaps if I’m patient, if I wait and hope and long from afar, Violet will learn to trust me.
Trust that when I tease her, it’s with love.
When I challenge her at work, it’s because I know she’s the best.
And when we fight, it only makes me want her more. Makes me desperate to hold her.
“What a mess,” Violet murmurs, and I grunt in agreement. Somehow, for two supposedly intelligent people, we have made a complete disaster out of this. “You know, I didn’t mean what I said back there. I was embarrassed, and I lashed out. I’m sorry.”
We turn in silence for a long moment.
I nudge her temple with my chin. “Please elaborate.”
Another slow circle; another wince as she steps on my foot. Violet truly is an awful dancer, but somehow that just makes me love her more. Disastrous.
“You were right.” She grits out the words, like it takes a huge effort. And I get it, because it takes every ounce of my willpower not to crow triumphantly and ruin the moment. “About what I wanted from you. With you. The stuff about… about kneeling, and um…”
“Begging?” My arms tighten in case she tries to escape, but Violet sighs and presses closer.
“Yes. You ass.”
“I’m not bragging! Do you hear me bragging?”
“I don’t hear you not bragging.”
We lapse into silence, and I’m glad it’s dark on this patch of rooftop. I can grin like an idiot, hidden in the gloom, and we can speak more honestly somehow in the shadows. It’s easier to confess things in the dark.
“So.” Violet’s skin is soft when I cup her face. And we’re not spinning anymore, not even pretending to dance, but I’m still dizzied by this moment. “If I kiss you, will you solemnly swear not to leap off this roof?”
Two hands fist in the front of my shirt and tug me closer. “Cross my heart,” she says.
Well, then.
Our noses bump, and the trellis creaks in the breeze behind us. Violet’s breath tickles my chin, and she’s pushing up on her toes, even as I bend my neck to reach her. If this works out, I’ll have to invest in a step ladder.
“Violet Moore.” I grip the hair at the base of her neck, tilting her head back. Her lips part and she stares up at me, already glazed and breathing hard. “I’ve wanted this for so fucking long. You have no idea.”
And thousands of heated daydreams about this moment have already flickered through my mind. We’ve had a lot of build up. So it seems impossible that when we finally kiss, it could ever live up to the hype, but our lips brush…
And my heart goes crazy.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It slams against my ribs like a battering ram.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Violet is scorching hot, melting against me, kissing me back, and I don’t need air. Don’t ever need to breathe again. Who needs oxygen, anyway? Not me. Don’t need anything except Violet’s hands tugging at my shirt and her body bowing against mine and the scrape of her teeth on my bottom lip. The faint sting of pain.
Figures that when we finally, finally break down and kiss, it’s a battle for dominance. A power struggle, just like everything else in our fraught relationship. And that isn’t what Violet confessed she wanted, it’s not what she really needs from me, but maybe we’re not there yet. Guess we can’t go from zero to one hundred when it comes to trust.
That’s fine.
I’ll put the work in.
And in the meantime… this is the best fucking thing I’ve ever felt. Violet moans when I move to her throat, sucking and nibbling at her warm skin. Her breath hitches when I press a thigh between her legs, gripping her hips, encouraging her to rub against me. To ride my thigh right here in the dark.
“Oh my— god . ! Oh, shit. Holy shit.”
Violet’s babbling, lost in the moment. Incoherent. I love it so much. Love her so much, especially when she grabs my shoulders for balance and starts rocking, chasing the friction she needs. And maybe she’s not kneeling or begging, but there’s vulnerability in this too. There’s a lot of trust brewing between us on this rooftop.
Plus it’s really goddamn hot. The damp heat between her thighs sears through my pant leg, and Violet is such a goddess in the way she rolls her hips, head tipping back. In the way she gasps and grunts and bites her bottom lip, completely shameless in her pleasure as I kiss her throat, her earlobe, her cheek, her chin, any part of her I can reach. Her dress ripples in the moonlight.
One day I’ll get Violet Moore naked and spread out on my mattress. One day soon I’ll catalog every inch of her, kissing and tormenting until she loses her goddamn mind.
Yeah. That’s the power struggle in our future. That’s the way we’ll one up each other from now on, competing to win.
I just need to show her that. Somehow.
Need to drag us to that promised land.
But for now as Violet stills, pleasure shuddering through her body, her eyes drift closed. She cuts me off; won’t let me see. Won’t give me anything except her fractured moan, and the way her limbs tremble as she comes and comes.
And as reality creeps back in, as Violet slowly returns back to herself, she retreats. An invisible shutter goes down behind her eyes, and the cold breeze slips beneath my collar, chilling my skin.
“Whoops.” My rival stumbles back a step, tugging her dress straight, and she smiles at me, embarrassed. At least she’s not yelling this time. “Guess I got carried away. Sorry about that.”
Sorry? She’s sorry ? For the highlight of my life so far?
It’s an effort to smile at her, sliding my hands into my pockets. If Violet needs to take a step back, if she needs things to be less intense for a minute, if she needs lighthearted , I can give her that. Listen to me: I will be what she needs.
“Any time.” I wink, and my chest burns when she rolls her eyes. “Consider me at your service, sweetheart.”
I will break down those walls. Somehow or another, I’ll do it.
Nothing else matters.