18. Gavin #2
Violet visibly withdraws at my words like it’s reminded her that I’m not a guy she wants to spend time with, smiling and laughing. She sits straighter and the shield that is so often between us returns. “It’s getting late. We should probably get back.”
We toss the trash and turn off the TV before walking back to the banquet hall. When we are steps away, I pause and face her. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Being here.”
A flicker of that ease between us from earlier returns. “You’re welcome.”
I don’t look around for my dad when we enter the room, but I do notice he isn’t at our table, so that’s where I lead Violet.
I pull out her chair and she takes a seat.
“Where have you guys been?” Tommy asks. “You missed dessert.”
“What he means to say is that he ate yours.” Noah punches Tommy on the arm.
“I didn’t want it to go to waste.”
I rest my arm on the back of Violet’s chair. A week ago, she would’ve batted my hand away or maybe moved to a table clear across the room. But tonight, she doesn’t flinch.
Coach Reynolds speaks into the microphone. “Hey, everyone. Before we leave tonight, I wanted to say thank you to everyone for coming. It has been a great season. I’m so proud of the hard work and dedication shown by this group of guys.”
Applause starts somewhere across the room then spreads. Coach waits for it to die down before continuing. “Can I get Gavin up here?”
My legs feel heavy as I push back from the table and start for the front of the room.
I finally spot my dad standing at the bar next to the athletic director.
Coach extends a hand for me to shake when I reach him, then he claps that same hand on my shoulder.
“Behind every great team is a player that looks out for his team, leads by example, and is a mentor to the younger guys. Gavin Leonard has been that for this team. He makes my job easy.” Coach laughs and the room joins in.
“Well, he’s made my job easier, anyway. The team voted and named Gavin our MVP. ”
Coach plucks a small trophy from the podium and hands it to me, then pulls me into a hug. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Coach.” I lift the trophy as I acknowledge the guys clapping for me. I don’t look at my dad. Instead, my gaze snags on Violet. She’s wearing an amused smile as she brings her hands together.
When I get back to the table, her smile gets bigger and slightly taunting. “Congrats on being top jock.”
“Top Jock? Is that like king of the dipshits?”
“You said it.”
“Thanks.” I laugh as I set the trophy on the table and take my seat. Coach has more awards to give out, so I move my chair closer to her and whisper, “How much do you wish I’d taken you up on your offer to get drunk and naked now?”
“This is fine. How many awards can there possibly be?”
I point to the table next to the podium with a dozen or so trophies.
She groans.
Laughing, I ask, “Want something to drink?”
“Definitely.”
“Be right back.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Quietly, we make our way to the bar. My dad is nearby but stuck in conversation. We almost get away without him coming over, but just as the server hands us our drinks, he steps up behind me.
“Congratulations. That’s a strong statement from your coach and teammates. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.” The word falls from my lips with only half as much disdain as I feel.
“I’m going to head out soon.”
I nod and swallow around the lump forming in my throat. It doesn’t make sense to be upset about him leaving when I didn’t want him here in the first place, but I feel it anyway.
“Unless you want to grab a drink after.” His gaze slides to Violet. “Both of you, of course.”
“We can’t,” I say quickly. “We have plans.”
He slides both hands in his pockets and stays quiet, like he’s giving me time to reconsider.
Violet steps closer to me so that her arm rests against mine.
“We have tickets for…” She looks to me and her eyes widen as she tries to come up with something. Violet is a terrible liar. “An art show.”
“You’re into art?” my dad asks me.
“Depends on the artist. Violet is a designer. A really great designer.”
“What do you design?” he asks her.
She blushes. “Dresses, mostly.”
“Did you make the one you’re wearing?”
She smooths a hand over her waist and nods.
“You made that?” I ask.
“Yeah.” She laughs lightly.
“It’s beautiful,” my dad says. “I’m glad I got to meet you, Violet.”
She looks to me before responding. “You too, Mr. Leonard.”
Dad takes a step closer to me. “Good luck at the tournament, and don’t forget to call Artie. At least hear him out before you decide.”
“Thanks for coming,” I force the words out.
When he walks off, I let out a long breath.
“Are you okay?” Violet asks, stepping in front of me. I miss the heat of her arm against mine. “I’m sorry. I started talking without a plan. I don’t do well on the fly.”
“I’m good.” I glimpse around the room to see more people heading out. Coach is flying through the trophies. I guess he’s as eager to get out of here as I am. “Looks like things are wrapping up here. Ready to go?”
“Yeah. Let me grab my purse.”
At the table, she gets her stuff, and I tell the guys we’re leaving. The sun has set, and Violet rubs her hands over her arms as we step into the cool night.
“Did you really make that dress?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t really that hard. The design is simple. Just your basic slip dress.”
“Well, the execution is amazing, and you look great. I don’t think I told you that earlier, but you do.”
“Thanks.” She ducks her head to avoid eye contact, and we take slow steps down the sidewalk to our houses. Tonight has been a lot, but I don’t want it to end.
“Did you finish your design for Penelope?”
“I told you about that?”
“You let all sorts of secrets spill last weekend.”
“I bet I did. I was delirious. And yes. The design is done.”
“Now what?”
“My professor will give us feedback tomorrow and then we start finalizing everything. A rep for Penelope Hart is coming to look at them in a couple of weeks.”
I can see how much the opportunity means to her in the anxious way she stares straight ahead and twists her fingers in front of her.
“I bet she picks yours.”
“Based on what? You haven’t even seen it.”
“I don’t need to. I know you.”
The wind blows her hair around her face.
“Who is Artie?” she asks as she smooths the wild strands behind one ear.
I pluck the card from my pocket and hand it to her.
“Arthur Walten, Sports Agent. Walten Sports Management Group.” She looks up in question after she finishes reading.
“My dad’s agent.”
“Are you entering the draft?”
“No. Much to my dad’s disappointment.”
“But Arthur, or Artie, wants to represent you? So you could play, but you don’t want to. Why?” She studies me.
I step closer and rest a hand on her hip. She drops her gaze to where we’re connected.
“It isn’t what I want.”
“What do you want?” She looks up at me through dark lashes.
Instead of answering, I lean down and brush my lips over hers. For the briefest of moments, she kisses me back. Hope and adrenaline surge through me and then crash when she steps back and brings a hand to her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. Fuck.
“It’s okay.” She lets out a shaky breath. “But I should go. Thank you for tonight.”
And with that, she speed walks away from me.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I count to five while I think through both scenarios—going after her or leaving it be. I know where leaving it be gets me, nowhere, so I take off after her. “Violet, wait.”
She whirls around, stepping away from her front door. “Why did you do it?”
“Kiss you?”
“No.” Her eyes fill with tears, but her body vibrates with anger.
Hope at the progress I thought we’d made is quickly stolen from me.
“Why did you cheat on me last year? I’ve been over it a million times, looking for clues that it was all in my head and we didn’t really have this great connection that I thought we did.
But then tonight, I felt it and…” She pauses, takes a breath, and speaks quieter. “Why did you do it?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I wish I did. I spent a lot of time trying to remember exactly what happened.”
I don’t remember hanging out with Bailey that night, let alone going home with her.
I was crazy about Violet. I went out that night to some stupid date auction, counting the hours until I could leave and go see her.
What the hell happened in the four hours between being there and showing up at Violet’s room with her freaking roommate?
“Maybe I just had too much to drink, maybe she tricked me somehow, but the truth is that it doesn’t even matter why it happened, because even if I knew, I can’t take it back or make you forgive me.”
I’m not sure I even deserve her forgiveness. No, that’s not true. I know I don’t deserve it. It’s why I haven’t pushed harder. What if she forgave me and then I just fucked it up again?
She nods slowly, resigned disappointment etched over her features.
“It wasn’t in your head, though. I’ve never met anyone like you or had such a strong pull toward someone.” I rub a hand over my chest. “Those weeks we were talking are filled with some of my best memories. Whatever you want to believe about me, know that it wasn’t in your head.”
Movement in the front window of Violet’s house catches my attention. Dahlia, Jane, and Daisy are all peering out through the curtain at us.
Violet swivels around, and they scatter.
“I better go,” she says.
“Okay.”
I’m frozen watching her leave.
“Hey, Vi?”
It’s two long seconds before she looks over her shoulder. “Yeah?”
“I am truly sorry for what I did to you. You didn’t deserve that. No one does, but especially you. You’re incredible.” I shove my hands in my pockets. “I regret it every second of every day.”
Her chin tips in the smallest nod.
“And, uh, thanks for going with me tonight. It sucked a lot less with you there.”
“You’re welcome, Gavin.” This time, she’s the one that hesitates. “I’ll see you later.”