“You’re such a girl,” she chided, but somehow the words came out too soft . . . too tender, and ended up sounding like a compliment.
Jay just laughed. “So what does that make you, the guy?” He squeezed her hand even tighter, keeping it buried in his.
“Or some sort of lesbian,” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe we should try out a little girl-on-girl action.”
“Nice, Violet. Do you kiss your mom with that mouth?” His eyes glinted as he watched her.
She leaned closer to him in the darkness of the car’s interior. “No, but I’ll kiss you with it.”
He set her hand back in her lap. “Watch it, Vi, or I might pull over right now and we’ll never make it there.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Make it where?”
“Nice try, but you can’t distract me that easily. . . . It’s still a surprise.”
He drove the rest of the way in silence, pretending to ignore her, even though she knew she’d gotten to him. And then he flipped on his blinker and turned again, coming to a stop in the deserted parking lot of a lakefront park. It was an odd location for this time of year, made stranger by the darkness that was shrouding the crisp night.
Violet looked at him curiously. “What are we doing here?”
“This is your surprise.” He pulled a thick winter coat out from the backseat. “You might want to put this on,” he recommended as he jumped out and popped the trunk.
Violet got up, shrugging into the warm, down-filled jacket. The sleeves hung well past her hands, hiding her fingers inside the soft, pillowy fabric. She felt like a little girl playing dress-up in her dad’s clothes. But she was glad to have it when Jay met her on the passenger side, carrying a small cooler in one hand, a fleece blanket tucked beneath his arm. He was grinning mischievously.
“A picnic?” Violet asked, looking at him like he’d lost his mind. “Isn’t it a little cold? And dark?”
She took the blanket and he slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him. “I promise I’ll keep you warm. And well-lit.”
He led her toward the park, and when she stole a look across the grass, in the direction of the lake, she froze in her tracks, unable to move.
Her heart stopped, and she reached for his coat, drawing him back. “Jay . . .” she whispered. She was sure she was witnessing an echo—a strangely beautiful echo.
“It’s okay, Vi.” He leaned down, his nose tickling her ear. “I see it too. I did this. It’s for you.”
She relaxed her grip, finding her breath again.
Jay pulled her forward and, as he did, she was able to see the splendor of what he’d done. Just for her.
This time, when her breath caught in her throat, it was for an entirely different reason.
At her feet, a luminous path lit the way through the grassy field. It was made entirely from glow sticks; each of the radiant lights had been painstakingly set into the ground at perfect intervals, tracing a curved trail that shone through the darkness.
Apparently, Jay had been busy.
Near the water’s edge, at the end of the iridescent pathway and beneath a stand of trees, Jay had set up more than just a picnic. He had created a retreat, an oasis for the two of them.
Violet shook her head, unable to find the words to speak.
He led her closer, and Violet followed, amazed.
Jay had hung more of the luminescent glow sticks from the low-hanging branches, so they dangled overhead. They drifted and swayed in the breeze that blew up from the lake.
Beneath the natural canopy of limbs, he had set up two folding lounge chairs and covered them with pillows and blankets.
“I’d planned to use candles, but the wind would’ve blown ’em out, so I had to improvise.”
“Seriously, Jay? This is amazing.” Violet felt awed. She couldn’t imagine how long it must have taken him.
“I’m glad you like it.”
He led her to one of the chairs and drew her down until she was sitting before he started unpacking the cooler.
She half-expected him to pull out a jar of Beluga caviar, some fancy French cheeses, and Dom Pérignon champagne. Maybe even a cluster of grapes to feed to her . . . one at a time. So when he started laying out their picnic, Violet laughed.
Instead of expensive fish eggs and stinky cheeses, Jay had packed Doritos and chicken soft tacos—Violet’s favorites. And instead of grapes, he brought Oreos.
He knew her way too well.
Violet grinned as he pulled out two clear plastic cups and a bottle of sparkling cider. She giggled. “What? No champagne?”
He shrugged, pouring a little of the bubbling apple juice into each of the flimsy cups. “I sorta thought that a DUI might ruin the mood.” He lifted his cup and clinked—or rather, tapped—it against hers. “Cheers.” He watched her closely as she took a sip.
For several moments, they were silent. The lights swayed above them, creating shadows that danced over them. The park was peaceful, asleep, as the lake’s waters lapped theshore. Across from them, lights from the houses along the water’s edge cast rippling reflections on the shuddering surface. All of these things transformed the ordinary park into a romantic winter rendezvous.
Violet reached for one of the tacos, amazed that it was still warm.
Jay watched as she took a bite. “Is everything okay, Vi?”
She swallowed, setting the rest down. “It’s perfect. . . .” She wrapped her blanket around her and went to Jay’s chair. She leaned over him, her curls falling around her shoulders like a dark curtain. “You’re perfect.” She smiled as she collapsed on top of him, kissing him.
He groaned and pulled her closer, making room for her as the kiss deepened.
She’d wanted to be in control but had too quickly lost the upper hand. Her breathing became uneven, and she pressed herself against him, squirming to get closer. The warmth between them spread through her like a fever, making her restless and impatient.
He stopped her then, before there was no going back, drawing his face away to create the most microscopic fissure between them. “You taste like tacos.”
Violet gasped as she tried to catch her breath. “What?” She blinked, trying to gather her thoughts. “Really, Jay? Is that a complaint or something?”
He shook his head. “Of course not.”
“Good. Because this is: I hate it when you stop like that.” She pushed herself away from him and sat upright, crossing her arms in front of her.
“Come on, Violet, that’s not what I meant.” The dazed look in his eyes only made Violet feel slightly better. She was glad he was at least a little bit bothered. “It’s just that I wanted to talk to you . . . you know, before we get distracted.”
“God, I really am the guy,” she glowered, but her shoulders slumped.
He hauled her toward him, dragging her into his arms. “Stop it. You are not the guy.” He kissed her on the mouth, ignoring the fact that she wasn’t kissing back. But as annoyed as she was, it was hard to stay mad. Especially here . . . now. It truly was magical.
So when he pulled out the Oreos and dangled them in front of her—a peace offering—she shook her head and sighed. “You’re impossible.” But there was no real fight in her words, and she couldn’t stop her lips from twitching when he grinned down at her.
He took her reluctant smile as surrender and settled back, bringing her with him until they were curled up against each other.
Violet took a cookie and twisted it apart, eating first one half and then the other, the way she’d always eaten them since she was a little girl.
Jay waited a moment before breaking the silence. “I know you really don’t like to talk about this stuff, but I want to make sure you’re okay. Ever since that day in Seattle with Chelsea, you’ve been going through something. I haven’t asked you about it, because I knew you needed some time to work things out, but now . . . I just thought . . . you know, that maybe you’d want to talk about it. Maybe tell me about the boy.�
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Violet froze. The silence that followed could have swallowed her; it seemed to deepen with each second that passed. She wanted to say something, just to make the hush between them vanish, to replace it with something. Anything. But she couldn’t. Her voice was gone; words escaped her; her thoughts had gone astray.
She didn’t want to think about the boy. Not now. Not ever again.
She’d spent so much time trying to erase him from her memory, so much time trying to banish him, that she was unwilling to reopen that door, even at Jay’s request.
She didn’t know why he would want her to. Why he would ask her to do that.
Violet tipped her head back, struggling for the right thing to say but coming up empty. Finally she just shook her head. “I can’t.”
She thought he’d argue, try to convince her. But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He was Jay, and Jay wouldn’t push her like that. She should have known better.
He smiled sweetly, crookedly, and her pulse hammered out of control. “Okay,” he answered, pressing a whisper-soft kiss to her brow. His hand spread over her hip, his fingertips gentle, reassuring.
They lay there like that, in a different kind of silence now, watching the lake and the stars, listening to the night, each basking in the warmth of the other. Violet listened to the muffled sounds of his heart until her breathing slowed, becoming steady and even. She let him wrap his arms around her. He kissed her, but with more restraint this time, more caution than before.
And even though she hated to be the one to end their evening, she knew that someone had to.
“We should probably go,” she finally said, pulling her cell phone out to check the time. “It’ll be after ten by the time we get home.”
“Do we have to?” Jay grumbled, trying to hold on to her.
“Unless you have a better idea . . .” she hinted suggestively, only half-joking.
But she knew that Jay wouldn’t take the bait, much as she wanted him to. Instead he gathered the leftovers while Violet folded the blankets and helped carry everything to his car.
“Do you mind if we stop at Mike’s house on the way back? He helped me run my errands this afternoon, and he left his wallet in my car. I just need to drop it off.” He slid the cooler in the trunk.
Violet sighed, wishing they could have this one evening without anyone else. It didn’t seem like too much to ask. “Can you take me home first?”
He looked at her like she was crazy. “It’s right on our way,” he explained. “Besides, it’ll only take a sec.”
“Whatever,” Violet muttered under her breath. She didn’t slam the door, but she’d wanted to.
She hated feeling this way, and hated it even more because she definitely was not supposed to act like this . . . pouting over a quick stop on their way home from the perfect date. What the heck had gotten into her anyway?
She knew she was being irrational, but she couldn’t help herself. She crossed her arms over her chest when they stopped at what she could only assume was Mike’s house, and when Jay promised he’d be right back, she refused to look at him.
Clueless to the wrath she was mentally raining down upon him, Jay left her there, bounding up the short porch steps in two long strides and pounding on the front door. When it opened, he disappeared inside.
Only once she was alone did Violet pay any attention to her surroundings, to the dilapidated little house where Jay’s new boyfriend lived. It was set back in the woods, down a long, single-lane dirt driveway that afforded them complete privacy. And it was dark, with only the porch light to break up the blackness that settled bleakly over the property. Tall trees encroached all around the tired-looking house. The paint was faded and peeling, and there were rusty window screens propped alongside the rickety front steps. There was something about the isolated location, the spooky house, and the absolute darkness that gave Violet the creeps.
But just as he’d promised, Jay was back out within minutes, and Violet was relieved to see him, despite the fact that she was determined to keep her oath of silence where he was concerned.
It was then, however, that Violet felt the unexpected whisper of real jealousy shoot through her. Mike’s sister, Megan—not Mike—poked her head out the front door, waving to Jay. She said something that Violet couldn’t hear, but the tone of her voice, which Violet could hear even through the closed windows, was something that Violet would have recognized anywhere.
It was the same voice she’d heard too many times before, from girls who were flirting with Jay. Her good-bye was a little too eager, a little too choreographed, as if she’d planned her moves before Jay had arrived.
Violet noticed too that Mike’s sister was cute, almost at the same time she realized that the other girl had no idea that Violet was sitting there, in the dark, watching them while she waited for Jay.
The girl cocked one foot up behind her. It wasn’t an obvious gesture, but Violet recognized it for what it was meant to be: coy and endearing. And then she saw the girl twirl a strand of hair from her ponytail with her finger as she spoke again, trying to capture Jay’s interest.
Jay was just opening the car door as he turned around to respond to her. That was when the interior light blinked on, and Violet was suddenly aware that she was no longer cloaked by darkness.
Mike’s sister saw too.
Violet bit her lip as she raised her hand and waved innocently at Megan, who was standing motionless, like a statue, her foot kicked up behind her. She almost felt guilty as Megan visibly slumped, her foot dropping back to the unstable-looking floor beneath her. Almost.
Jay smiled at Violet, oblivious to Megan’s flirtations, as he climbed in and closed the door. “See, I told you I wouldn’t be long.”
Violet felt better, realizing that Jay didn’t seem to notice the other girl. Although Jay wasn’t off the hook that easily, she was still mad at him.
Now, not only did he have a new boyfriend, apparently he had a new admirer too.
Just as they reached the mouth of the driveway, Violet felt the sudden stab of a headache coming on. She massaged her fingertips over her temples, and then at the base of her neck, trying to rub away the tension.
A pair of headlights met them at the junction of the road, and just as Jay turned, a beat-up red pickup truck barreled past them into the driveway they’d just pulled out of. It barely gave them enough time to get out of the way.
As they drove in silence, Violet tried to tell herself that she was being a baby. That Jay loved her. And only her. Not Mike, and not Mike’s sister either.
And she believed it. But she was still annoyed that their date had been tarnished by the detour.
She felt the pain in her head subsiding, diminishing a little more with each rotation of the tires, until it was nothing more than an uncomfortable memory.
Jay pulled to a stop in front of her house, and she let him kiss her good-bye. It was a good kiss. And within moments, she was too preoccupied to remember that she was trying to be mad at him, too distracted to care about her grudge, the one he was still annoyingly unaware of.
Dazed by the passionate farewell, she forgot not to wave good-bye to him before closing the door behind her.
She may have even lifted her foot demurely as she did so.
Chapter 8
Violet was unlocking her car when the woman in the crisp white suit appeared.
School was just letting out, and students crowded the parking lot and lined up on the sidewalks in front of the bus lanes, eagerly awaiting their chance to escape. Somewhere behind Violet, a stereo with its bass turned way too high was bumping out a country song that shook the windows of the cars around it.
“Violet? Violet Ambrose?” The woman didn’t really seem to be asking the question; she seemed to know exactly who Violet was.
But Violet had no idea who she was; all she knew was that the woman was definitely out of place amid the students of White River High, and she looked even less like she belonged to the faculty. Besides, Vi
olet was certain she would have remembered this woman if she had seen her around school. And while the boy who trailed behind her looked barely older than Violet, he too seemed oddly out of place in his faded black T-shirt and ripped jeans. Straight, nearly jet black hair, too long and unkempt, fell sideways across his eyes, adding to the impression that he would be more at home at a skate park than in the parking lot of a small-town school with country music playing in the background.
He kept his hands in his pockets and glared at the asphalt beneath him, never glancing Violet’s way.
Violet pulled her key out of the lock.
“Are you Violet Ambrose?” The woman awaited Violet’s confirmation.
“Uh-huh.” Her curiosity was definitely piqued.
The woman stepped forward, holding out her hand formally. “I’m Sara Priest. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
Sara Priest? That name . . .
Of the FBI? That Sara Priest.
Oh, crap, crap, crap! Violet silently cursed herself.
Violet scrutinized the woman as she absently shook her hand, taking in the details of her meticulous appearance. Not just the pristine suit and the flawlessly sleek ponytail but also her no-nonsense demeanor. She exuded a confidence that Violet knew she would never be able to pull off.
“Can we talk?” FBI Sara asked when it was evident that Violet didn’t have anything to say.
“I guess so,” Violet conceded, looking around to see if anyone was watching the three of them. She tried to think of some pretense—some reason—not to have this conversation right now.
She was suddenly irritated with Jay for having to work today, mad that she’d driven herself to school.
So now here she was. All alone. With FBI Sara Priest.
Crap!
From the sidewalk, near the entrance of the school, Violet saw Mike waiting for his bus. He waved to her, enthusiastic, kind of like a puppy. Guilt over how envious she’d felt toward his new friendship with Jay flooded her, reminding her of how childishly she’d been behaving. Violet lifted her hand and waved back.
Desires of the Dead Page 6