21. Violet
VIOLET
“Tell it again from the beginning,” Jane says, bringing the bottle of wine with her from the kitchen to the living room.
“No. Start with him kissing you last night,” Daisy interjects.
Dahlia inches closer to me on the couch. She’s quiet, but just as eager as Jane and Daisy to hear the story again.
I oblige them, a giddy feeling buzzing inside me as I talk.
“I can’t believe it,” Daisy says.
Me either.
“I thought if you two ever hooked up again, it’d be hot hate sex, which you’d regret and then inevitably repeat.”
I snort a laugh.
“I had a whole intervention planned,” my cousin states.
“Don’t count that out just yet.” I hold out my glass and Jane pours more wine into it.
“What does it mean?” Dahlia asks.
“Are you going to start kissing more often?” Jane’s eyes are filled with excitement.
“I don’t know.” I take a long drink, the chilled wine doing nothing to dampen the heat still rushing through me from that kiss.
God, that kiss. “He asked if we could hang out when he gets back from his games this weekend, but maybe it isn’t a good idea.
He seems remorseful, but can I really trust him? ”
“What does your gut tell you?” Dahlia bumps my shoulder with hers.
“That it’s risky and it might blow up in my face again.”
“But you still want to try.” There’s no question in Jane’s statement. She knows I do.
“Am I crazy?”
“No, you’re human.”
I blow out a breath. “He won’t be around that much for the next month, if they do as well in the tournament as everyone is predicting.”
“Maybe that’s good,” Daisy says. “It’ll give you time to ease into things and decide what you want.”
My friends all nod. They’re right, of course. Going slow would be the smartest path forward. But then why do I want to do something dumb like walk over there and demand he kiss me again?
As soon as class is over Thursday, Dahlia and I turn our living room into our design workshop. Daisy is with Jordan at his dorm, and Jane sits on the couch, reading and occasionally glancing up to check our progress.
We order takeout and turn the music up. I used to love going to parties, but nights at home, hanging out with my best friends, listening to loud music, and eating junk food is the best.
I’m in the zone, sewing and singing along with the lyrics when Jane comes up beside me.
“You scared me,” I yell over the music.
“Sorry. Thought you might want to see this.” She holds up her phone to show me the final score of the Valley game.
“They won.”
“Yep.” She scrolls down to a picture of Gavin in uniform. “And your boyfriend had a record game. Twenty-six points.”
A spark of pride lights inside me. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Why not?” She takes her phone back. “I know you. You like him. There’s no going slow with you two. You look at each other and practically combust. Plus, he’s a good kisser and looks good sweaty.”
“How do you know he’s a good kisser?” I don’t mean for it to come out in an accusatory tone, but Jane’s brows lift, and her lips part then pull into a wide smile.
“Because you kissed him… twice in two days.”
“I did not initiate the first one.”
“Why did you ask him to kiss you?” She turns down the music and plops onto the couch. Dahlia looks up from her work and they both wait for my answer.
“The first time he kissed me, I was shocked. I could barely process how I felt about it because he caught me completely off guard. So, I thought if he kissed me again and I didn’t feel anything, we could forget about the past and be friends.”
“And?”
My face flushes. “I wish I hadn’t felt anything. That would make things so much simpler.”
“Simple is boring,” Jane says.
“Hey!” Dahlia objects.
“You aren’t simple or boring,” Jane tells her. “You are a freaking goddess. Anyone with eyes can see that.”
“I meant my design. Is it still too simple?”
“No,” Jane insists. “Penelope loves that color and she’s a sucker for a jumper.”
“She is?” Dahlia asks.
“Yeah.” Jane waves a hand dismissively. “She’s photographed in them all the time.”
“Then this one needs to stand out even more and right now it’s blah.” Dahlia steps back and stares at the jumper.
“It isn’t blah,” I insist.
I abandon my own work, so Jane and I can focus on helping Dahlia until she feels certain of her design again.
Seeing someone else question their natural inclination pushes me back to my original concept.
Sometimes I think traditional education is a total mindfuck for artsy people.
We all have our own natural design aesthetic, but we spend four years being filled with information and ideas that muddy that vision.
Not all of that is bad, of course, but I have to believe that the thing that makes Dahlia’s work special, the thing that makes my work special, is that it provides a different perspective.
Simple isn’t boring. Imitation is boring.
Around midnight, we call it a night. I have class at nine tomorrow, so I head up to bed. My thoughts are still on my dress when a text from Gavin lights up my screen.
We won. Looks like you get to enjoy the quiet next door for another night.
In my room, I flip on the light and look over at The White House. It’s almost eerie, sitting there so dark and silent.
I don’t respond to his text until I’m ready for bed and under the covers.
Congrats! Maybe the girls and I will throw a party at your place tomorrow night. I assume the liquor is stocked. Can you tell your keg guy to drop a couple by?
My keg guy? Who has a keg guy?
I’m assuming YOU do.
I’ll let Petey know we need our usual order. Anything else? A stripper, perhaps?
Sure, why not. Is there a stash of dollar bills ready in your room? Maybe under the mattress?
I’m already smiling when his next text pops up on the screen.
Close. Sock drawer with my lube.
Ah, of course! That’s where I keep mine too.
Your lube?
My dollar bills.
What have you been up to? Besides missing me like crazy.
Class, working on my dress. Nothing.
The dots appear and then stop. A few minutes go by without a response, and I watch the screen, hoping for more. I actually have missed him. I know it’s silly, but for as long as I’ve lived next door, Gavin has been a constant presence. Often an annoying presence, but a presence nonetheless.
Sorry. I fell asleep. Long day.
When do you play next?
Saturday. We have the early game, so we should be back sometime that evening. Hang out when I get back?
He says it so casually, like hanging out is something we do on the regular. Maybe we do now.
Sure.
Great. I’ll text tomorrow.
Good luck.
Valley wins again on Saturday, and to no one’s surprise, the guys at The White House decide to throw another party.
“Are you sure you want to come over?” Gavin asks. “We could go to The Hideout or something.”
I look out my window to see him staring back at me. For the past fifteen minutes, since he got home, we’ve been chatting on the phone and simultaneously catching glimpses of each other from our respective windows.
“No. It’s fine. Daisy and Jordan will be there, so if you ditch me at least I’ll know someone.”
“Good to know your expectations are high.” His rough chuckle rumbles through me. “What about Dahlia and Jane?”
“They’re going to a concert.”
He looks over his shoulder as Noah steps into his room. I can’t make out his roommate’s words, but a second later, Gavin says, “I have to go help out downstairs. What time are you coming over?”
My stomach is suddenly a ball of nerves. “I guess I’ll just walk over with Jordan and Daisy. I think they’re planning on going around ten.”
“All right.” He looks at me through the window. I can see him smiling from here. “See you in an hour.”
We hang up and he waves before leaving his room. I turn back to my bed and the dozens of dresses I pulled out of my closet. I have no idea what to wear.
It’s been more than a year since I went to a big party like the ones at The White House. It’s not my scene anymore; it barely ever was.
Even before things got ugly with my old dorm roommate Bailey, I struggled with the really big campus parties.
I enjoy a good party as much as the next person, don’t get me wrong, but the thing about hanging out and drinking with the most popular and desired people on campus is everyone sort of loses their minds.
People say and do things they wouldn’t normally when they get in a group that large.
Then the morning after, they’re filled with regret and shame, and that always made me uneasy.
Especially after Gavin, because I felt like maybe it had all been out of character for him and I was only seeing his true character when he slept with my roommate.
Bailey used to say that she became someone else when she stepped through the doors of a party.
And as absurd as it sounded at the time, I think it happens to all of us on some level.
The alcohol and the music, the peer pressure to look and act a certain way, it’s heightened, but in this quiet way, where you don’t even realize it until you’re waking up the next morning hungover after promising yourself you were going home early to study.
I’m not immune to it. I’ve done things I wouldn’t normally do with a little liquid courage and my friends’ encouragement, but it’s different when you’re surrounded by people you trust.
I don’t trust Gavin, at least not fully. And I don’t know what version of him I’m going to get tonight.
Ugh. This was a terrible idea. Daisy and Jordan will be off being adorable and in love, and Gavin and I are barely past hating each other.
A knock at my door pulls me from my downward spiral. I sit on the mattress. “Come in.”
Daisy peers in and smiles when she finds me sitting next to the pile of dresses.
“I’m a lost cause. Go on without me.”
“I thought you might be in here suffocating under your outfit options.”
“You know me too well.”
“I do.” My cousin moves a few articles of clothing out of the way to sit next to me. “Which is why I think it’s silly you’re stressing about how you look. You could wear what you have on and still be the hottest, coolest girl at the party.”
I glance down at my old high school winter formal T-shirt. The design is faded and the material thin from a thousand washes. “You’re full of shit.”
“Nope. Totally serious.” She laughs and scoots closer to me. “Stop stressing about what you’re going to wear and tell me why you’re really freaking out.”
“Do I have to say it?” I wave an arm toward The White House. “What if this is a mistake?”
“Do you think it is?”
I pick at the hem of a purple dress at the top of the pile on my bed. “You know when you’re about to do something stupid but you’re too excited about it to stop? That’s how I feel right now.”
She says nothing, but her mouth pulls into a sad smile.
“What do you think I should do?”
Daisy is the smartest person I know, and I trust her opinion and that she always wants the best for me. She’ll know what I should do.
“Honestly, I have no idea.”
I groan.
“But I think that you need to do this. You need to know if there’s still something there or not so that you can move on one way or another.”
“I tried to move on.” A million times over the last year. I dedicated myself to school and having fun with my friends, but… “He’s too far under my skin.”
“I get that,” she says softly. “You don’t have to make any big decisions right now. Tonight, let’s just have fun. And if at any point you want to leave, just say the word and I’m with you.”
I let out a breath. She’s probably right. I’m making too big a deal out of hanging out with Gavin. It’s just a party. I can leave any time I want. “Thank you.”
She stands. “All good or do I need to grab the wine and we’ll do a little fashion show?”
“I’m good.” I relax as I realize she might be happily in love and planning on spending all night making out with her boyfriend, but she will be there in a flash if I need her. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
She stands and walks to the door.
“Hey,” I call after her, “thank you.”
“For what?”
“Always having my back.”
She smiles. “Always.”