Chapter 36
VIOLET
VIOLET, I THINK, A WARNING to myself. You are getting reckless.
I don’t know how to do this—admit that I want something and simply go after it.
He’s caught up in something he can’t have. This isn’t real. Even if it could be, he wouldn’t be interested—not seriously, not really. There’s some pull between us, some curiosity from him. But it’s only because we’ve spent so much time together.
At best, this would be a one-night stand.
He’s leaving in two days, while I still don’t know what I’m doing next. So what do I have to lose?
I can still taste him in the involuntary lick of my lips. An expression of surprise and relief had crossed over his face when I’d leaned up to kiss him.
This is really going to hurt, one way or another.
It’s going to end. He is going to leave. I am going to be forced to get my life together, to deal with all the messes I’ve made. My family, my job, or lack thereof.
So maybe I should enjoy it while I can.
The song ends, but Finn doesn’t let go of me automatically. The next song starts to play—an abrupt, drastic turn from slow and romantic to Lil Jon.
Florence had given Alba and I clear instructions: when the first dance ends, get the party started by whatever means necessary. Villain Violet is on it.
I take Finn’s hand in mine.
I need your help with something.
Okay, he says, his voice doubtful. Whatever you need Violet, I’m in.
I try not to think about how much my heart squeezes at this.
And for good measure, I remind myself again, repeating my mantra after a summer of pretending.
Not real, not real, not real.
Alba and Rose take one half of the room while Finn and I attack the other, dragging every single person onto the dance floor. Sometimes by force, sometimes by charm (all Finn) and sometimes by just sort of aggressively dancing around them until they give in.
I find Florence, Alba appearing beside us, the three of us replicating moves we used to do at clubs in New York.
Alistair spins his mother around, fully taking her off her feet, as she squeals in what I think is delight.
Rose and I start a conga line at one point. It takes off, all of us parading around the room until the song changes.
Fireball comes on and we all do Fireball shots, Alba running full-tilt to her house to get the bottle, the liquid burning the entire way down.
Finn and I do what can only be described as an insane dance-off, each doing a move and then replicating and adding to it. I can’t remember ever laughing this hard. Somehow Rose and Alba get involved, the four of us stuck like this for several songs.
There’s only the glow of the twinkle lights hung up around the bed and breakfast, the feel of a cooler-cold can of beer against my cheek, and the sight of Finn, sweaty and not a single hair out of place, smiling at me like this could be real.
We are going to sleep together, I think to myself, some inevitable ending, a perfectly tied bow on our time together. A messed-up goodbye of two people who pretended to fall in love one summer.
Violet, he murmurs into my hair, over and over, when he thinks I can’t hear him.
But I hear it every time.
I’VE BEEN DETERMINED TO OUTLAST Alba, or at the very least Florence, but at three in the morning it becomes apparent that the night has to end at some point.
One bed, one bed, one bed loops endlessly in my mind. Something tells me it wouldn’t have mattered anyway—we’d have ended up in the same place tonight no matter what the sleeping arrangements were.
I’m buzzing from the alcohol and the dancing and the unrelenting need.
Finn, who’s been sitting with his brother, suddenly appears beside me, as if sensing the change in the air—the charge in the air.
Are you ready for bed, Violet? His voice is so low, his accent making the last vestiges of my restraint snap. I want this, god I want this.
Yes, please.
He holds my hand on the walk down to the cabin, but about halfway there stops abruptly.
We made a deal, Violet.
Does he mean our fake dating arrangement? He must see the confusion on my face, and he reaches over to run a thumb along my cheek. I shiver.
No sex, remember? That was your rule.
For a split second I wonder if he’s holding me to this, like he wants a way out. But the look on his face is hesitant. Like he’s making sure this is something I want. I allow myself to believe that this might be the truth—that he wants this too.
What a dumb rule, I say, unable to look away from him. He comes closer, kissing that spot on my wrist again. For luck, I realize.
Tell me. His voice is hoarse, from laughing all night, maybe from nervousness. He starts again. Tell me you want this, too.
I want this, Finn. I want you, all of you, for real.
And suddenly we’re back in the cabin, a race of ripping off clothes, scraping teeth, Violet, a plea and a promise whispered in my hair again and again.
That competitive edge in him comes out, but he’s only competing with himself, trying to prove something I can’t quite name. Like he’s worried he needs to show me he’s worthy—except that would be insane.
At a final point of desperation, I beg him for more. He brings himself eye-to-eye with me, that uncertainty gone from his voice now.
Ready Violet?
A last chance to back out.
But there’s no stopping this, no undoing what we started all those weeks ago.
I give him a single, serious nod, and we take another leap of faith.