Chapter 40
VIOLET
I’M GOING TO SEE FINN today.
When the plane touches down in Glasgow, I am buzzing with excitement. And it has nothing to do with the fact that this is my first ever trip across the pond.
Alba had taken me to Florence’s, where the two cousins and Alistair had basically given me an intervention. The intervention being: We don’t know what was going on with you two, but we all think Finn has feelings for you.
I didn’t need to explain to them that so much of the summer, everything they’d seen between us, had been an act. It didn’t matter now—because Finn himself had told me that it was real for him. I just hadn’t been ready to accept it.
But I have to try, if it’s not too late.
Alistair gave me his brother’s address and wished me well. My two friends, delighted by this turn of events, hugged me tightly between them.
If it does all go to shit, Alba had said, You’re welcome back anytime.
Thanks for the vote of confidence, I said with a laugh, but then felt myself go serious. But really, thank you both. For everything.
Then I’d gotten on a plane. The entire journey, pounding through me were the same six words on a loop: It was real for me, Violet.
It was real, it was real, it was real. My new mantra.
I call an Uber to the address Alistair gave me. I take a deep, calming breath before I knock on the door.
No answer.
I knock again. Nothing.
I hadn’t exactly prepared for this, but committed to being undeterred, I check Billie’s Instagram. Finn’s own social media has been quiet since he came back to Scotland, but I have my fingers crossed that Finn’s best friend has a show tonight.
Billie’s most recent story shows a screenshot of a promotional poster, and they’ve even tagged the bar. Relief washes over me. Billie, my saviour!
I decide to stash my suitcase behind the garden hedge in front of Finn’s place, hoping to god that it will go unnoticed until I get back.
I call another Uber and fidget with a rip in my jeans for the entire drive there.
After buying a ticket and getting my hand stamped at the front door, I finally make my way inside.
It’s loud, with music blaring from speakers on every wall.
The crowd is a sea of people with multicolour hair and nearly every outfit has some sparkle reflecting the lights.
God, this looks like fun. I smile for the first time in ages, a huge, radiating smile. Looking around the bar, I decide to start making my way through the chaos to see if I can find Finn.
But I get the prickly feeling on the back of my neck like someone’s watching me. I turn towards the stage, where a person in an aquamarine wig is looking directly at me, surprise on their face.
Billie.
My smile only gets bigger. I mouth towards them, Is Finn here?
Appearing to be a bit stunned by my presence, Billie nods at me like I’m a ghost, before pointing towards the back corner of the bar. I can’t see Finn from here, but I head in that direction.
Real.
I finally spot his perfect, swoopy hair through the crowd of people and I feel my breath catch. Even this brief glimpse of him does something to me, my legs turning to jelly. I stop in my tracks, unable to take another step.
This, I think, is what it’s supposed to feel like.
He turns my way, his head snapping suddenly in my direction, as if he caught a glimpse of me, and our eyes lock.
We stare at each other, neither of us moving. My smile starts to fade as I notice he doesn’t exactly seem happy to see me.
I can’t blame him. That morning in the cabin, I’d been utterly terrified. The idea that he could feel the same way scared me—and had caused an immediate, catastrophic crashout.
Something in me starts to crumple. I had imagined this going differently. And now reality is setting in like a cold fall wind: brisk and chilling.
Get it together, Violet.
I have to at least try to be honest with him, to tell him how I feel. That it was real for me, too. And if he didn’t mean it, or if he’s changed his mind, well, at least I was honest with him—and with myself.
I think back to the many, many times my own self-doubt had caused me not to see things clearly.
The most recent example being with Sherry, who I’d spent almost two years thinking hated me.
And not giving her any credit that she might have understood what I was going through—and that one bad night wasn’t enough to undo all the other work I’d done.
Wasn’t enough to cancel out everything else I have to offer.
So one bad morning with Finn doesn’t negate the rest of our summer, right?
Finn swallows and I see him take a step, before his gaze is ripped from mine, his eyes glancing down to the woman beside him.
She’s beautiful, because of course she’s beautiful—a blonde with a tiny frame and long hair halfway down her back. She touches his arm to get his attention, pulling him down to say something in his ear.
And then it hits me.
This must be her. The person he was trying to impress and make jealous with our fake relationship—to prove he could be a good boyfriend to—and it must have worked if they’re here together.
I feel like a vice has gripped around my heart.
Here I am, once again, the weird girl who has inserted herself somewhere she isn’t wanted. Who has shown too much of her real self and expected a different outcome.
This, I think, is why you shouldn’t let anyone get too close.
I can’t hear the music anymore, I can’t think. Can’t breathe. I force myself to calm my roiling stomach, to look away from the horrific scene before me. It may as well be a car crash.
I feel, more than see, that Finn is looking nervously back in my direction.
I have to get out of here.
In a daze, I shove through the crowd of people, stumbling back outside and onto the street—desperate and gasping in the cool night air. I wipe my sweating palms on my jeans, having to brace my hands on my knees from the force of what’s just hit me.
I was wrong. It wasn’t real. It was only temporary, only good for the summer.
Shellshocked and completely at a loss for what to do now, I start walking. I have no idea where I’m going, but it doesn’t really matter, as long as I get far, far away from here.
Violet! I hear him call after me and I wonder if I’m only imagining it. I will hear that voice in my head for as long as I live.
I don’t want to have this conversation with him; don’t want to hear the rejection head-on.
Footsteps approach and I actually think I might pass out. I can’t get a breath down properly. I force myself to look up at him—feeling his presence beside me now.
Is that guilt written across his face? There’s something else there, beyond surprise, but I don’t know what it is.
What are you doing here Violet? He sounds almost angry, his voice making me feel raw.
I shake my head, wanting to shake off the shame coating every inch of me. Violet, you are such an idiot.
Never mind. It’s all I can manage to get out.
Never mind? His tone is incredulous now. He reaches out to put his hand on my arm, but I pull away from him.
I—I was wrong, I thought—I thought you meant it, I am mortified to hear, rather than actually notice, that I am sobbing now. I can’t look directly at him; can’t stand to see whatever expression is written on his face.
He runs a hand through his hair, scoffing. Thought I meant what?
That it—that this—that it was real, I choke out. But of course it wasn’t, and of course you’re with someone else now and I—
What the fuck are you talking about?
I blink up at him in surprise at the tone. The hurt there. Anyone else would see it as purely anger, but I know Finn better than that.
The woman at the bar with you.
He stares back at me, like he’s rearranging tiles on a Scrabble board and finally seeing the words hidden there. That’s Billie’s sister, Chloe. I’ve known her since we were kids. His eyes are darting rapidly across my face now. She and her girlfriend come to all of Billie’s shows.
Oh. Oh. The words are out of my mouth before I can think them through.
Then, who was it you were trying to prove something to? Even though I don’t want to hear the answer, I have to know. That night in Halifax, you said every time you tried to be serious with someone, it didn’t work out—especially last time.
There was someone, before I came to Canada, he starts and I feel myself flinch away from him, my mind on an instant loop: I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.
As if on instinct, he steps towards me. His eyes roam over my face, and he looks how I feel—somewhat defeated, like a deflated balloon. He has dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t been sleeping well either.
It’s not what you think. Listen to me Violet, he starts, tentatively reaching out his hand to take mine.
Something about the tone of his voice gives me a sliver of hope.
It wasn’t about making her jealous so that I could win her back.
But she was the most recent example of all the rejection that had come beforehand.
That no one had taken me seriously, or wanted something more from me.
He steps forward, moving closer to me and taking a deep breath before continuing.
Sure, did I want my Mum to lay off and my brother not to think of me as a complete twat?
Aye, absolutely. But more than anything, it was about proving it to myself.
I thought if I practiced being a good boyfriend, I could be one.
But you and me—our arrangement—well, I didn’t really have to try at all. It just worked.
He swallows again, breathing in like he’s trying to collect himself. And despite how it started, that whole mad idea to pretend to be together, even though we were supposed to be pretending, it meant something to me.
I let him run his thumb along the tattoo on my wrist—let him tuck my hair behind my neck, his fingers warm across my skin.
So there was never anyone else. I’ve not felt anything like this for anyone else, he says, and I feel my heart pounding in my chest: real, real, real. Only you, Violet. And I’m hoping you’re here because it was real for you, too.
I take a breath, before admitting, It was always real for me.
There’s so much more I want to say, but my throat is tight and it doesn’t matter anyway—Finn’s mouth is already on mine, his hands in my hair, both of our breaths ragged with relief.
And this, I think, is what it’s supposed to feel like.