Chapter 24 #2
I think people like me on a surface level.
I’m efficient, I’m organized, I work hard.
I can get things that need doing done. But once they get past that, they start to see that it’s actually because I’m too particular about things.
That I operate differently, think differently, like different things.
That I’m just kind of weird. She gives me a pointed look that I don’t quite understand, before sighing and trying to make a joke of it, And maybe I’m a little too tall.
Lots of tall women get boyfriends, I tell her, teasing, nudging my shoulder against her like a man starved for touch. Pathetic, you absolute swine. And you’re hardly that tall. So it can’t be that.
But I’m off-putting, Finn, I notice the twitch in my chest—in other places—when she says my name. I think men start to see the real me and it scares them off. Then when I tell them I’ve never had a boyfriend before, you should see them run.
Nah, I tell her, shaking my head and not buying any of this. I don’t think that’s right. Wanna know what I think?
Again, that wall going up, like I’m going to say something hurtful.
I shrug at her, and say simply, I think you’ve never met anyone who’s good enough for you. So you’ve probably shooed them away as soon as you’ve realized it yourself. But if that’s the case, you shouldn’t let your family make you feel so rotten for never having had one.
That is definitely not the case. She isn’t looking at me now, fiddling with an elastic around her wrist. You said it yourself Finn, I’m weird. People tend to avoid weird.
I try to remember saying anything like that to her, but come up short. My thoughts, as of late, have been entirely about exactly how much I like Violet. When did I say that?
At the bar, with your brother. She must mean the first night we all went out.
I remember the second half of that conversation more clearly: about how I was a sucker for someone different, and about how Alistair didn’t think I was good enough for Violet.
She adds, I believe your exact wording was, total weirdo, if I’m not mistaken.
How much of that conversation did you hear?
She shrugs, still not looking at me. So many things are clicking into place now, this wall that keeps appearing out of nowhere. I left after that; I’d heard enough.
Ah, so she’s been carrying this around all this time, has she?
I didn’t mean it the way you clearly took it, I start, but she interrupts me.
Well, I mean, it’s certainly not a compliment, is it? It’s fine, and I should be used to it, but—
Violet. I can hear the devastation in my own voice. I wait for her to look at me before continuing on. Her eyes dart to mine for a millisecond before she looks away again.
Fuck this.
I pull her onto my lap, her eyes going wide and an audible gasp coming out of her. I’ve positioned her so she has to fully strain her neck to look away from me, giving her no choice but to meet my gaze. Her cheeks are immediately flushed.
Violet, I say again, my tone more serious now.
I am very glad you said something, so we can straighten this out.
She’s got that kind of doe-eyed look now, not sure what the hell is happening.
I wish this had come out earlier, and not by accident—that she’d chosen to address this particular dagger she thought I’d thrown at her.
If you had continued listening, you little sneak, you would have heard Allie take the mickey out of me about having a soft spot for weirdos.
It’s the Scottish blood in me, I’m up for a bit of banter, and I know that borders on being an arsehole most of the time, but in this case I meant it only in the most affectionate of terms—and I knew my brother would understand that.
My hand, somehow of its own volition again, has started tucking her hair behind her head, moving it in soothing strokes down her back. I hate to think that you’ve been carrying this around, thinking it was meant to be hurtful.
Well, it usually is. Something in my chest cracks. Okay, so everyone who’s ever hurt her must die a slow and painful death, that much is clear.
Not from me, little flower. I knew I liked you from the first.
When I was gawking at you, you mean?
I laugh at this. Aye, the gawking. But also that night at the bar, when you were confiding to me about your deep dark family secrets—that your family was pimping you out. She laughs this time, and the relief washes over me.
The words keep rolling out of my mouth like runaway boulders. You kept saying these saucy lines out of nowhere, then would realize what you’d said and your cheeks would turn a delightful shade of pink. I stroke my thumb over her cheek for emphasis.
Her eyes flutter closed at the movement and I have a fierce desire to pull her mouth to mine.
I wish things were different. I wish I wasn’t trapped in Scotland, so maybe Violet and I could give this thing a shot.
If she wanted to, anyway. It’s hard to tell if she only thinks of me as a friend—or some ally in needing to prove ourselves worthy to everyone else.
She opens her eyes again and looks right at me, that guarded, defensive look gone now. I push a little further, my voice low.
What’s wrong with being weird anyway, Violet? I twirl some of her hair around my right index finger. It makes things far more interesting, you ken?
I wonder, for a second, if she’s thinking any of the same things as me. If I’m occupying her thoughts half as much as she is mine.
But she doesn’t get a chance to answer me, as Alba’s voice comes barking from around the corner of the rock, Come on you two lovebirds, time to go.