When Our Worlds Ignite (An Our Worlds Spin-Off Book 1)

by Lindsey Iler

  “A girl I’ve sort of been dating.” He stands and looks down at me. “If I’d known, Vi, I wouldn’t have brought her. I thought everyone was going to be here, and I was told you couldn’t make it.”

  “Just as I was told you couldn’t make it.” I shake my head. “That’s the only reason why I’m down here in the first place.”

  “So, it seems we’re in a bit of a predicament, and our best friends are to blame,” Dan offers up the obvious.

  “What should we do now? I need this vacation. More than you know.”

  “So do I, so I guess we’re going to tough it out,” Dan counters. He turns around and heads upstairs.

  Tough it out? Me, Dan, and his girlfriend? Fuck that.

  “We’ll just tough it out,” I repeat as he disappears. My face contorts in funny poses.

  I hop off the sofa, drag my luggage from the front porch to the upstairs, and then search for my purse. When I find it in the kitchen, I dig for my phone and click a few buttons until FaceTime opens. Maybe too aggressively, I push on my best friend’s name. After all, it’s not my phone’s fault I want to strangle Kennedy.

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  Kennedy’s face shows up, and she’s smiling. Of course, you’re smiling.

  “Heyyyy,” she says to the camera.

  “Hi, sweetie. How are you?” I ask too pleasantly, which should be a dead giveaway.

  “I’m good. Just getting ready for Ben’s soccer practice.”

  “That’s nice. You never told me how beautiful Graham’s family’s house is.” I stroll up the stairs. My sharp tone announces my intentions for this conversation.

  “It is, isn’t it?” Kennedy glances off to the side, and I overhear Graham whisper something. If he’s smart, he’ll hightail his ass away from the phone and get the hell out of Dodge.

  “Maybe you forgot what the upstairs bedrooms look like, so let me take you on a tour.”

  Despite her protests, I show her the bathroom and end with the last bedroom on the left where Dan is shacking up with his girlfriend. Without knocking, I throw open the door and point the camera into the room.

  “Kennedy and Graham, say hi to Dan and his girlfriend, Brittany,” I shout, slamming the door before either of them can say hi.

  When I spin the camera back in my direction, Kennedy’s mouth is wide open, and Graham pops onto the screen.

  “That can’t be our Dan,” she whispers. “He looks . . . different.”

  “It’s him, Ken, and his precious, little girlfriend.”

  “Violet.”

  “Vi, we meant well,” Graham adds. Not helping.

  “Fuck off, both of you.” I stab the end button.

  Dan’s head slips into my bedroom a moment later. I roll my eyes and throw my luggage onto the mattress, unzip the pink suitcase, and empty my clothes with a less than gentle touch.

  “You okay in here?” He chuckles. His amusement for my outburst is frightening.

  “You can fuck off, too.” I offer him a brittle smile, push him toward the door, and slam it in his face. His laughter echoes down the hallway.

  “What’s her deal?” Brittany whispers, but it can still be heard through the door.

  “She’s a firecracker, is all.”

  Even through the door, I hear his smile and admiration. Who does he think he is? He doesn’t have the right to call me a firecracker or any pet name, for that matter.

  Minutes after Violet hangs up, Graham texts me to apologize for the mix-up. Apparently, they’d assumed I’d come alone, and they knew Violet would be a one-woman show. Me showing up with Brittany on my arm has fucked up their plans. I understand what they’re attempting to do, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about their coercion.

  I toss my phone on the bed just as Brittany storms into the room, slamming the door behind her hard enough to rattle the pictures on the wall. We haven’t been dating long, so I’ve never told her about my one past relationship. I have a feeling she’s caught on to the tension between Violet and me.

  She huffs and puffs as she barrels through her suitcase in search of something. When she pulls out her swimsuit, she grins at the little strip of fabric. “There you are.” In a flash, her clothes are on the floor, replaced by a tiny, orange string bikini.

  My eyes, among other things, bulge at the sight of her. She stands on her tippy toes and kisses me on the cheek before scurrying out the door.

  What the fuck has gotten into her?

  When we first met, I was instantly attracted to her. Wanting to surround myself with someone like Brittany isn’t hard to understand. She’s energetic and funny. But still, it seems we only have a physical connection. A physical connection I’ve thought was enough. Until now. You mean until you saw Violet again?

  As I unpack, I wonder why Brittany ran into the room like a tornado and left like a lamb. I tuck my suitcase under the bed and head downstairs. Violet dances around in an itty-bitty, emerald green bikini. She twirls, dropping ice into the blender. Her now-straight hair sways across her collar bone. It’s a distraction, and it’s working.

  “Hey,” I say as I step into the kitchen. “Did you say something to Brittany?” It’s the only logical explanation I can think of for Brittany’s outburst upstairs.

  Violet glares at me over the blender and pushes the button. The loud whirring fills the room, making conversation impossible. She turns it off, and as soon as I open my mouth to speak, she starts the blender again, stopping me from saying a word. I pull the cord from the outlet, bringing silence to the room.

  “Are we going to talk about this?” I question. “You, me, and Brittany, all together for a romantic week of relaxation?”

  “I’m sure, in your newly toned, skinny ass body, you’re dreaming up a threesome, but you need to get that idea out of your head. I prefer my girls a little smarter, which is funny because I thought you and I had that in common.”

  Ouch.

  She pours the mixture into two margarita cups and picks them up from the counter, shaking her ass as she heads to the sliding back door.

  “Both of those for you?” I question, following her every move.

  “No, one has rat poison in it.” She shakes the cups back and forth. “Which one should I give to your little girlfriend?” She rolls her eyes as she steps onto the back deck.

  “You’re kidding, right?” I yell after her. “No, seriously, Violet, you’re kidding, right?” While chasing after her, I almost trip over my own feet.

  “What do you think?” She glances over her shoulder at me, a satisfied gleam sparkling in her eyes, as she hands one of the cups to Brittany.

  I scurry over to Brittany and steal the glass away as her lips grace the rim. The mixture smells okay, so I take a small sip. Tastes like a basic margarita.

  “What are you doing?” Brittany squawks, snatching the glass out of my hand. “Have you lost your mind?”

  Behind me, Violet cackles uncontrollably.

  “It looks like the two of you have become friends.” I ease down on the lawn chair beside Brittany, but glare at Violet for an answer.

  “Oh, yes, we’re going to be the best of friends. We’ve already decided to braid each other’s hair later.” Violet rolls her eyes for the twelfth time since I’ve walked in the door. She huffs, flips her hair behind her, and stomps back into the house.

  “When were you planning to tell me she’s your ex-girlfriend? And why in the hell would you bring me here?” Brittany shakes her head and picks up the Cosmopolitan magazine beside her, hiding her face behind it. Her mind is already a million miles away, locked onto the fundamentals of wearing high heels or some stupid shit like that.

  When I think she won’t notice, I stand, uncertain of what’s going on between the two girls, and disappear inside the house. The bottom floor is vacant. Upstairs, I hear Violet’s faint voice. It grows louder as I creep up the steps and lean into the door to listen more carefully.

  “Are you fucking kidding me, Kennedy? How long has it been since y
ou’ve seen him? He’s fucking immaculate, like a Greek God or something. Hard. Chiseled.”

  I can’t hold back the smirk at her honesty. Earlier, she seemed to hate the idea of me being in her presence, but now, I get the feeling she’s perfectly happy having me here to stare at. Seems all my hard work has paid off.

  “I’m trying my hardest to hold my ground, but he’s here with his Greek God, blonde counterpart, and all I really want to do is jump his bones like a crazed teenager.”

  Hell, maybe there’s still hope. I can’t pretend I didn’t have the urge to sweep Violet in my arms the moment I circled to the front porch. I’m not the only one whose appearance has changed. Her once curly, unruly hair is now straight as an arrow. I’d give anything to run my fingers through her fire-red locks.

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ll keep my lady dick in my pants.”

  I bite back a chuckle because, let’s face it, only Violet can get away with saying shit like that and still be seen as a lady. The girl has a mouth of a sailor and always has.

  “No, I’m not leaving early because that would be too easy. He’d win, and that skinny bastard isn’t going to win. He’s not going to rile me up. He. Will. Not. Get. The. Best. Of. Me.” Her contagious laughter echoes through the upstairs. “I love you, too, and I’ll keep you posted, even though I still hate you.”

  Violet saunters out of the bedroom, finding me leaning against the wall. She stands her ground, acting unaffected, but her lips quiver before she speaks.

  “How long have you been out here?” She folds her arms over each other.

  “Long enough.” I laugh, and she pushes past me, bumping her shoulder into my chest. She groans as she rushes down the stairs. “Greek God, huh?” I race to catch up to her. My front hits her back on the middle landing. “I’ll try not to get the best of you, Vi.”

  Using her own words against her is cruel, but it’s all I have right now. My lips barely brush her lobe, and her breaths deepen against my skin.

  She twirls around and peers at me through her thick auburn eyelashes. Her tongue runs along the length of her bottom lip, and I gulp, remembering how easy she can get a hold on me. Her head tilts to the side, allowing her hair to fall over her shoulder. Temptation wins, and I reach for the newly highlighted strands.

  “Why’d you put highlights in?” I blurt, pretending not to be affected when she moves onto the same step as me. My body leans back to make room for her. “And your hair is straight, instead of the usual curl.”

  “Why, do you like it? It seems you’re more into blondes these days.” Her finger ghosts over my chest, causing a chill to run over my body.

  Oh shit, I’m not ready for flirty Violet.

  “You’ve always been gorgeous. A few highlights won’t change that.” I take a step onto the one behind me, creating the distance we need. Being that close to her and smelling her perfume is too much for my senses.

  She follows me, and we play this game until we’re back in the hallway. Violet places her dainty hand on my chest and pushes until my spine hits a hard bedroom door. I reach behind me and twist the doorknob, allowing our entrance. Violet continues to put pressure on my chest until my back meets the mattress. She turns to leave, a childish smirk on her lips.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” My arm wraps around her waist, and she falls on top of me. Our faces are inches apart. Her breath tickles the spattering of facial hair along my jaw. “Fuck this,” I whisper.

  My head lifts to close the torturous gap between our lips. When they finally meet, my shoulders relax. My fingers mix and mingle in her hair as she runs her tongue over mine. Her hips grind against my zipper. The feel of Violet’s ivory skin has me forgetting everything else in the world. I don’t feel the guilt I should. I’m here with Brittany, after all, and now I’m tucked away in a bedroom kissing my ex-girlfriend? Who the hell am I? If she allows it to go further, I don’t have the capacity to stop.

  “What about Brittany?” she says through our kiss. An ice bath is thrown over us in one single question.

  “Who’s Brittany?” I joke, playing it off. Not cool.

  Violet pushes away from me and falls to the mattress. We stare at the ceiling, our chests heaving from the kiss we’ve been hungry for since laying eyes on each other.

  When Violet looks at me, her failed attempt to mask the disappointment in her eyes crushes me.

  “Vi,” I whisper her name.

  “Not only did you change on the outside, but you’ve apparently changed on the inside. The Dan I knew would have never done something so deceitful.” Violet sits up and glares at me. “Let’s just keep our distance from each other. It’s obvious we can’t control ourselves.” She stomps to the door, but I’m quick on my feet.

  “Violet, please,” I beg, pulling on her arm.

  “You’ve made me into someone I would never want to be. The other woman.” Violet jerks her arm away and storms out of the room.

  What did I just do?

  *****

  “Where have you been?” Brittany asks as I step into the kitchen. “Violet and I took the boat out and went for a swim. The water is surprisingly warm.”

  I’m shocked they both came back alive. Brittany isn’t one to stand down, but Violet, damn, that girl can cut you where it counts.

  Violet’s back stiffens as she chops vegetables on the butcher block across from me. She doesn’t say anything. Silence. The worst thing a girl like Violet can give you.

  “I wasn’t feeling the greatest, so I took a short nap,” I lie, walking by Brittany and kissing her on the cheek. The gesture feels vile after what happened between Vi and me hours ago.

  The guilt I carry for kissing Violet weighs heavy on my shoulders. Her reaction still has me surprised. The overheard conversation with Kennedy led me to believe she wouldn’t allow me to grab hold of any piece of her. The second her hand landed on my chest, I felt it. That electricity. The undeniable attraction. And right now, that’s all we have. We aren’t Dan and Violet, the high school sweethearts. There’s me, and there’s her. The two don’t come together as a package deal anymore.

  “Oh, are you feeling better now?” Brittany asks but disregards her first question by shoving a platter at me. “Do you mind grilling up the steaks?”

  I head outside without a single look from Violet as she butchers the salad. The clapping of the blade is the only sound coming through the screen door. Brittany and Violet move around the kitchen, but never utter a word to each other. If their demeanor is a sign of what the boat ride was like, I’m glad I stayed back.

  Once the grill heats to the perfect temperature, I open the hood and plop the meat down. The screen opens with a screech, and my stare falls on a pair of legs I couldn’t mistake for any others.

  “Can you put these on a few minutes before you pull the steaks off?” She places a plate on the edge of the grill.

  “Vi, can we talk?” My words halt her escape.

  Her hand freezes on the door, and she turns back with an annoyed gleam in her eye. “What’s up?”

  “You ran off earlier. I didn’t get a chance to apologize,” I say, flipping the steaks and doing everything in my power not to look her in the eyes.

  “I don’t think I’m the one you need to apologize to.” Violet walks over and sits on one of the tall bar chairs. She’s angry, and rightfully so.

  “Brittany and I haven’t been seeing each other for very long,” I explain, trying to make myself feel better. My excuse is a crock of shit.

  “And that’s supposed to make what happened up there,” Violet points to the upstairs bedroom window, “okay for me?”

  “No, but it wasn’t fair to you.”

  “You’re right, it wasn’t fair.” She jumps from the stool and walks toward the house. This is the Violet I remember from five months ago. Her armor is back in place. What I want to do, hell, all I’ve ever wanted to do, is rip it down.

  “But let’s not forget, there were two people in that bedroom, Vi,” I shout. A sol
id blow to the armor. Right in front of me, I see the small dent. A dent that will always remind her that I wasn’t the only one who craved a connection between us.

  She twirls around, and I see her chest heaving.

  “I’m leaving in the morning,” she announces.

  I can’t bear to watch her go. Her eyes will be empty. My mind races as I tap the tongs on the edge of the grill. With a toss, the steaks and veggies land on the plate, and I head inside, readying myself to corner Violet and demand an explanation. If anyone should leave, it’s Brittany and me.

  “Oh, perfect timing,” Brittany sing-songs as I set the food on the table.

  The three of us eat in silence. Every once in a while, Violet clears her throat or slams her wine glass on the table. Brittany flinches a few times at her actions, but never speaks up or shows any emotion. The tension is palpable.

  I don’t know how to fix this, dammit.

  “I’ll clean up,” I offer, reaching for the plates scattered over the table.

  Without an argument, Brittany scampers off to some corner of the house, leaving Violet and me alone. Her chair scrapes on the hardwood as she pushes it back to stand. Instead of disappearing like Brittany, she grabs the silverware, carrying it to the sink and filling the one side with warm water and soap.

  “You don’t need to help,” I whisper from behind her. “I can do this on my own.”

  “I’m not leaving because of the kiss,” she whispers as I come to stand beside her. I take the clean dishes one by one from her. “I’m leaving because it stopped, Dan. I’m leaving because it hurts too much to be here with you. I’m leaving because, for a split second, I contemplated becoming the person I hate. My dad cheated on my mom, for lord knows how long, and because of you and this house, I was willing to become the one thing I hate most right now.”

  “I told you, Brittany and I have only been seeing each other for a short time.”

  “So, if she knew what happened, she wouldn’t mind? Because the girl I just spent a couple of hours with seems to think rather highly of you. Much like I used to,” Violet challenges, handing me a clean bowl. I rinse off the soap and put it on the drying pad. Defeat sinks in at the way she speaks of me in the past. “That’s what I thought. I’ll be gone before you wake up.” She tosses the dishrag on the counter and stomps away.