20. Gavin
GAVIN
Jenkins places his hands on my shoulders and then spins me around while Violet and her friends count. When they get to five, my buddy releases me. I stutter-step while I regain my balance, whistle “Jingle Bells,” and then send my ball smoothly down the lane.
Playing left-handed is a disadvantage, but only a slight one. When all the pins fall, I turn back and flash Violet a victorious smile. Arms crossed, mouth open in shock, she takes slow measured steps toward me. When she reaches me, she drops her arms and holds out a hand.
“Congratulations.”
I slide my palm into hers and hold her fingers captive. “Nice game.”
“You too.” She pulls her hand free. “I guess I owe you a drink, but unfortunately for you, I can’t buy alcohol.”
She smirks like she thinks she’s pulled one over on me. I don’t care if it’s a glass of tap water, I just want to spend more time with her.
“I’m not drinking tonight anyway. We leave for Utah tomorrow for the first round of the tournament.”
“Oh.” She shifts her weight from one leg to the other. “I can’t stay long. I rode with the girls, and Daisy has a test tomorrow. Let me just make sure they’re cool waiting for a few minutes.”
“I can give you a ride home.”
Her expression is impossible to read while she considers my offer. “Give me one sec.”
Jenkins and I each brought our own vehicles, so I let him know I’m hanging back, and wait for Violet to say bye to her friends.
When she walks back over to me, she looks nervous, and I second-guess this idea. The bowling alley doesn’t have a full bar; instead, there’s a window next to the shoe rental, where you can get pitchers of beer, soda, water, and a few different types of food.
“Can I get a Pepsi?” I ask when we reach the window. I turn to Violet. “Do you want anything?”
“Diet Pepsi. Thanks.” She reaches for her purse, but I hold up a hand.
“I’ve got it.” I place some cash on the counter. “It wasn’t really a fair bet.”
When we have our drinks, I point to a couple of free seats behind the lanes.
“Why wasn’t it a fair bet?” she asks once we’re sitting.
“I’m ambidextrous.”
“You were hustling me!”
I grin.
“Oh crap. I think I knew that. Did you tell me that before?”
“Sounds like something I might have tossed out in hopes of impressing you.”
“That’s a weird way to pick up girls.”
“Sometimes you have to get creative. You never know what might make a person give you a chance.”
She laughs off my answer.
“You’ve never been attracted to someone because of something like that?”
“I don’t think so.” She looks up like she’s thinking. “You?”
“Oh yeah. The list is long. I once had a thing for a girl in high school because she always smelled so good. It was like the perfect amount of perfume. Not too strong, just this light, clean, subtle scent when she walked by.”
“Oh, I’ve totally looked twice at a guy who smells good.”
“See?”
“What else?” she asks with a smile that transforms her face and sends a rush through me.
I turn in my chair and let my knees brush the side of her leg. “Tommy dated this girl freshman year that could do these crazy gymnast flips and turns. I wasn’t attracted to her at all until I saw her do a few.”
“That one makes sense. You’re an athletic guy, so you appreciate it in others. Jocks attract jocks.” She rolls her eyes. She really has a thing against jocks. Or maybe just me.
“Maybe. Have you ever dated another designer?”
“No. Never. I really haven’t dated since…” She lets the words trail off. “And I didn’t know any before I got here.”
I swallow and nod. I walked myself right into that one.
Violet and I met and started talking the first week she got to Valley.
She was outgoing and excited about college and making new friends.
A lot of people show up at college and want to play it cool, but not Vi.
I really dug how honest and genuine she was.
It’s still one of my favorite things about her.
“Speaking of design, what did your professor say about your dress for Penelope?” I ask, after taking another drink of soda.
“She liked it. Said it was my best work yet and applauded me for taking risks.”
“That’s great. Why don’t you sound happier?”
Her shoulders slump forward. “She wants me to make some changes, tone down some of the elements.”
“And you don’t want to?”
“I’m torn. I don’t know what to do.”
“Do you have any pictures of the dress?”
“You want to see a dress I designed?”
“Absolutely.”
Hesitantly, she pulls her phone out, and I shift closer. She flips through several of a black dress before stopping on one of Jane wearing it. The skirt comes up high in the front, but the back has some sort of flowy train that hits the floor. The sleeves are sheer and off the shoulder.
“I don’t know a lot about dresses, but this is seriously hot.”
Light laughter spills out of her as she takes the phone back and stares down at her creation. “Jane makes everything look hot.”
“It isn’t Jane.”
“You don’t think Jane is hot?”
“Sure, she is, but I wasn’t looking at her.”
She flips to another with the same dress on a headless mannequin. “Professor Richards thinks I should lose the train, maybe the sleeves too.”
Her mouth twists as she keeps studying it.
“What do you think?”
“I love the dress. I’m proud of it. But I’m struggling to keep my vision separate from the customer’s needs. If she can’t perform in this dress, then I’ve failed to do my job, and simply created a really beautiful dress to shove in the back of my closet with all of my other costumes.”
“There are a lot of layers on that thing,” I say, and shoot her a sheepish grin.
“I know, but I love the way it cascades behind her. I can see it on stage as she walks.” Her lashes flutter closed as she smiles.
I swallow thickly. When she reopens her eyes, she catches me staring.
“It’s silly, I know. I need to let go and focus on making it work in the real world.
I lose sight of that sometimes. Wearing dresses, costumes, that was always fun for me.
I’m perfectly willing to suffer for fashion occasionally, but not everyone feels that way. ”
“I bet Penelope does.”
Vi’s lips pull into a slight smile. “I’m not sure.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes. I finish my soda and Violet continues to flip through photos of her dress.
“Are you anxious to get back and work on your dress?” I ask.
“Sorry.” She locks her screen. “I’m being rude. I get lost in it sometimes.”
“Nah, it’s fine. You want to obsess over your work. I get that.” We stand. “I have a few hours of obsessing left to do tonight too.”
“Game film?”
“Yeah, Oregon’s defense is tough.”
We get in my car and start back to the houses.
“How long are you gone for the tournament?”
“Depends. Hopefully until Saturday. If we lose the first game, then Thursday.”
“You won’t lose. Oregon has a decent defense, but they’re struggling on offense since they lost… someone.”
“Manning.” A laugh bursts out of me. “How do you know that?”
“I read the news,” she says with a coy smile.
“Even sports news?”
“Sometimes,” she admits.
The rest of the ride back is quiet but not uncomfortable. I feel like we’ve moved forward a tiny bit, but I still want more.
I pull up to the curb between our houses, neither of us making a move to get out.
“Do you—” I start at the same time she says, “Thank?—”
We both stop and smile.
“You go first,” she says.
I run my hand along the leather of the steering wheel. “It was dumb.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” She shifts in the seat to better face me. “Tell me.”
My pulse quickens. “I was wondering, do you think we could ever really be friends again?”
She’s quiet and her gaze falls to her lap.
“Told you it was dumb.” I drop my chin as I let disappointment settle over me. I had to know. At least now, I feel like she doesn’t hate me. Hate might have been easier to live with, though. A little of Violet isn’t enough. I want to get lost in her, obsessed.
“Kiss me.”
My head snaps up. “What?”
“Kiss me again.”
My mouth opens to ask a whole bunch of questions, but I turn off my brain. When a hot girl asks you to kiss her, you fucking kiss her and you kiss her good.
She meets me halfway, leaning over the console between us. Our lips meet in a soft caress of uncertainty and intrigue, but it’s quickly replaced by an overwhelming desire for more.
My hand slides around the back of her neck, drawing her closer, and she comes with no hesitation. Her fingers push into my thigh.
“Violet,” I murmur her name.
She responds by opening wider. Our tongues tangle and my heart fucking hammers.
I’m not sure which of us pulls back first, but we’re both out of breath.
Woah.
She unbuckles and opens the door. I’m still struggling to get brain function back when she says, “No, Gavin. I don’t think you and I can ever be friends.”