by Sara Ney
I glower in her direction.
Turn to find Violet staring at me.
Even in the dim theater, I feel my face get red, embarrassed at having been caught shooting unfriendly faces at my roommate’s girlfriend by my…by kindhearted Violet.
I reluctantly raise my hand toward Jameson in a friendlier gesture. Mouth No thanks, and want to fucking disappear into the plush movie recliner beneath my ass.
I pull the black ball cap lower over my eyes.
Lift the center console between Violet and me, satisfied when she inches closer. I slide my open palm over her thighs, my palm so big it covers most of her lap, resting it on her dark denim jeans. Squeeze.
Leaning into me, Violet slides her hand over mine, her thumb stroking back and forth across my rough skin, and I stare at it. Stare at how right our hands look together.
“Oh my god,” I hear Oz say in a staged whisper. “Look how cute the kids are; they’re holding hands.”
From Jameson, “Stop teasing Sebastian, you’re going to make him mad.”
Oz snorts. “He’s always mad.”
Rex, peering down the row, “He can hear you, you know.”
Oz, stuffing a handful of popcorn down his gullet, “Yeah, I figured, but he deserves it. Just like he deserves a swift kick to the ball sack.”
Rex’s date, WhatsHerFace, “Shhh.”
Oz, to Rex’s date, “Who even are you?”
Rex’s date, “My name is Monica.”
Oz, using air quotes, “Okay, Monica, whom I have never met before tonight, I’ll shhh.”
Monica, “You know, I heard you were a jerk.”
Oz, “Douchebag.”
Jameson, laughing, “Okay guys, knock it off.”
Rex, “Yeah, knock it off, the movie’s starting.”
And on and on and on.
Violet chuckles beside me. I squeeze her thigh. Manage to steal a few covert kisses in the dark. The entire movie flies by in less than two painless hours.
All in all, not the best night out I’ve ever had with my friends.
But it’s a start.
“Dammit! I knew she was here to stay the minute I met her.”
My body jerks when the voice arises out of semidarkness, shrouded and scaring the living shit right out of me.
“Jesus Christ James—do you have to keep doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“Scaring the shit out of me in the dark.”
“Sorry?”
She’s in my kitchen, with only the microwave light on, scooping ice cream out of the container like it’s the middle of a heat wave in July. Leaning against the counter, not a care in the world, Jameson’s pajamas are an asexual two-piece flannel set that look like they’re for men, but come in patterns for women.
Hers are pink with yellow rubber ducks—not even remotely sexy—and I briefly contemplate how Oz manages to maintain a stiffy while his girlfriend wears fuck-a-duck pajamas.
Then I picture Violet in them, maybe lying on my bed in just the button-down shirt…something cute printed on them, like hearts or flowers or some shit. I could easily unbutton and slide my hands into them…
Maybe I should buy her a pair.
“Hello?” James says to get my attention.
I quit gawking at her ducking pajamas long enough to shake the vision of Violet from my head, pad barefoot to a cabinet for a glass, and fill it with water.
Chug the entire ten ounces.
Set it on the counter near the sink.
“As I was saying,” James starts, spoon suspended near her lips. “I knew Violet would be back. I’m glad I was right…but I really wish I had taken that bet with Oz. I would have won.”
I’m not sure how to respond to that, but I know if I don’t say something, she’s going to keep rambling. I attempt conversation, going with a cool, “Uh, yeah.”
“I really like her.”
Me too. “What are you doing up? It’s one o’clock.”
She shrugs with a sigh. “Your roommate woke me up with his roaming hands. Couldn’t get back to sleep after that. What about you?”
“Your boyfriend woke me up with his roaming hands. We share a wall.”
Jameson giggles. “Good one.”
I kind of smile. “Thanks. I try.”
“Do you?” Her question is full of skepticism.
“No. But I’m going to.”
She laughs at that too. “Ahh, I see how it is.”
I roll my eyes, playing along. “What is it you think you see?”
James is silent for all of ten seconds. “You love her, don’t you?”
We have a reckoning then, she and I, and judging by the firm set of her mouth, this question is a test. Jameson Clark is testing me, daring me to answer with the truth.
Patient, I know she’ll wait me out until I’m the first to speak.
My choices are simple. I can lie and be the guy Violet warned me not to be, or I can suck up my pride and choke out the truth, despite myself. Despite wanting my private life to be private and wanting to keep the details to myself.
Shit.
I nod. “Yes.”
Jameson’s mouth falls open. Hangs there.
“Have I stunned you into silence?”
“You might have.” Her spoon digs deep into the ice cream. “I mean, wow. This is great. I’m happy for you. I’m happy for me—another girl around the house? This is going to be great.”
Oh Jeez, she’s going to make this weird. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t get all…” I wave my hand in circles in front of me. “Girly. Stop planning dates and shit in your head.”
Another laugh. “Too late for that, my friend. The damage is done.”
“You realize you’re beginning to sound and act just like Oz? Always trying to give advice and meddling in my life.”
“I do? I am?” Her eyes crinkle at the corners, pleased. “Aww! You are too sweet, because I think he’s the best.”
Such a smartass, even at one in the morning.
“Did I-I miss the party invitation?”
James and I both jump, startled, turning at the sound of shuffling in the doorway. Violet enters the kitchen in one of my wrestling t-shirts, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with a yawn.
Her pale blonde hair falls in a long braid over her shoulder.
I slide my arm around her waist and squeeze, dropping a kiss on the top of her sleepy head. “Hey babe, what are you doing up?”
Violet nests into my side, fits perfectly against my ribcage, like the missing piece of a puzzle.
“The sound of laughing from the kitchen woke me up.” Yawns.
“Sorry. I was thirsty, and apparently, this one night binges on mint chocolate chip.”
Jameson taps the spoon on the container in her hands, looking way too awake. “Guilty.”
“Well on that note, Pix and I are going back to bed.”
James rolls her eyes. “Night guys.”
I lead Violet down the hall, climb into bed behind her, wrap my arms around her waist.
“Goodnight,” she whispers in the dark, cuddling her backside into my junk—which never bodes well for my ability to sleep.
“Night,” I mumble, burying my face in her hair. “Love you, baby.”
So fucking much.
“I love you, too.”
Violet
“Pix, I wrote you a poem, wanna hear it?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Roses are red, Violet is blue—”
“Hey! I am not.”
“Okay, okay, let me try again.”
Zeke clears his throat dramatically, leaning into me from across the table.
“Roses are red, Violet is pretty, I wanna lay her.”
I scrunch up my nose. “Is that the entire poem?”
“Uh…something…something city?”
Giggle. “Just stop.”
He leans closer.
“Just kidding, that poem’s n
ot your real gift.” Zeke clears his throat. “I have something for you.”
My real gift? What in the world…
I blink, confused. “For what?”
He shrugs. “I mean, it’s been like, six months. Don’t people give gifts and shit?”
Six months?
I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Give gifts for what?”
Zeke picks the menu up from the center of the table—the one that’s been obstructing our view—and sets it off to the side.
“Are you being serious right now? You really don’t know what I’m talking about?”
My head shakes slowly. “Sorry.”
“Oh my fucking god—I am going to kill him when I get home.”
“Who?”
“Oz.” He lets out a breath. “I am such…I am an idiot. God damn him, this is his fault. No, it’s mine. I shouldn’t have listened.”
“Now what did he tell you to do?”
“He said to get you a gift for our anniversary, a really nice one, but obviously people don’t do that.”
Our anniversary?
“It’s our anniversary?”
Is that what this fancy dinner is all about? The dressy clothes and expensive restaurant? I thought we were just having dinner.
Zeke’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, face turning red with embarrassment. “Shit.”
“I’m sorry. I knew by looking at the calendar we’ve been together that long, I just didn’t realize you’d want to celebrate it.”
“What do you mean you didn’t realize I’d want to celebrate? You’re my girlfriend.”
He’s looking at me like I’m the weirdo here.
Oh my god, it’s so sweet.
“So…can I have my gift?”
“Yes,” he grumbles. “But I feel like such an asshole.”
“You feel like an asshole for buying me a gift?”
“Nooo, I feel like an asshole because—well…don’t feel bad, okay? I know you didn’t get me anything.” If sullen eyes can pout, his are doing it right now.
“Don’t mope. I would have gotten you something if I’d known this was a celebratory dinner.”
Zeke lifts his hips off the seat, digging in his back pocket. Produces a narrow envelope and sets it in the middle of the table.
I stare at it.
He prods me. “Go ahead. Take it.”
My fingers deftly pluck it up. Examine it.
His beautiful lips curl into a smile. “Any guesses?”
It could only be… “Concert tickets?”
“Nope.” He casually reaches for a water glass, takes a sip, cool as can be. Sets it down and says, “Just open it. You’ll never guess.”
My thumb cuts through the envelope, revealing the paper folded inside. I unfold it, bringing it closer to my face, studying the printed details. “It’s airline vouchers.”
He’s smug. “Yup.”
“For Colorado.”
“Right.” He straightens his utensils.
“I don’t understand.”
His brow furrows. “Isn’t that where your aunt and uncle and cousins live?”
“Yes.” I drag the word out slowly, still staring hard at the black ink printed on the paper. I lower it after a few more seconds, my heart…
Swells.
“Zeke.” I finally raise my misty eyes to look at him. “Did you buy me tickets so I could see my family?”
“No, I bought us tickets so we could see your family.” He says it nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal, taking a piece of bread from the basket on the table and tearing off a chunk. “I was thinking June, but…” He shrugs. “Whenever.”
My fingertips trail over my name on the plane voucher. The departure and destination airports listed at the top.
“Why would you do this?”
“Because you deserve it.”
I bite down on my trembling lower lip. Give my head a shake. “I don’t remember even mentioning this.”
“Sure you did, remember? In the library that day when we got into our first fight. You were yelling about how they moved and you couldn’t afford plane tickets.”
“That was months ago, and I yelled a lot of things at you that day—how did you pick that out of everything I said?
His gray eyes soften. “I hear everything you’ve ever said to me Pix.”
The tears start falling hot and fast; I can’t swipe them away quick enough. “Th-This means everything to me Zeke—you mean everything to me. I love you—s-so much.”
He tries to smile at me, tries to be tough, but there’s no hiding the slight quiver of his bottom lip as he speaks. “You deserve to see your family, baby. They deserve to see you.”
My head bows, shoulders hunched. I take deep, steadying breaths, trying not to cry at the dinner table. Wipe my nose with a white linen napkin.
My heart is bursting with so much joy I don’t know what to do with it all. Pride that he’s mine to keep. That I was smart enough to take a chance on him despite my friends. Despite his manners and bad attitude.
He’s amazing.
He doesn’t realize it, but he is.
He stands then, coming around to my side of the table, wrapping his arms around my shoulders from behind. Kisses my jaw and the corner of my lips. Kneels beside my chair and hugs me.
I lay my forehead against his shoulder.
“I can’t believe you did this for me.” I quietly weep.
“Of course I did this for you,” his deep, unsteady voice rasps into my ear. “I love you. You’re my family Violet, and if I have to buy a ticket, hop on a plane, and take you to see yours, then I’m going to do it. I love you.” His voice cracks, barely above a whisper. “I would do anything for you. I want to take care of you.”
I lift my face, tears dampening my cheeks. Zeke’s hands wipe them away.
“I don’t want you to take care of me.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want us to take care of each other.”
He kisses me firmly on the lips, like we’re the only two people in the room, mouth lingering.
“I want to go home,” I mutter against his warm lips.
“Okay,” he says slowly. “My place or yours?’
“It doesn’t matter, I just want to climb into bed and cuddle you.”
He raises his arm, signaling to the waiter to bring the check with a brief nod of the chin. When he’s taken care of that, he stands, helping me to my feet. Helps me slide into my jacket.
People are staring at us, the big, angry-looking boy and the crying girl—I can only imagine what they’re thinking.
“You know, just now I was reminded of something.”
“What?”
He turns me to face him, reaching for the collar of my coat and pulling me close. Kisses the tip of my nose. “I loved you first.”
My brows rise. “You did?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not sure about that, but I’ll take the bait. When did you know?”
“Remember that time I came into the library and rang that little bell on the desk? It was really obnoxious but you were really polite. The look on your fucking face though…I loved that face.”
“That’s really mushy coming from you.” I roll my eyes, which are still damp. “I thought you were the most handsome guy I’d ever seen.”
“When?”
“At the grocery store, when you got those ice cream cones down off the shelf for Summer.”
“Really? I was a huge dick that day.” He leads me to the front of the restaurant toward the exit, hand at the small of my back.
“I know, but you made my heart leap, and it hasn’t stopped since.”
He stops walking. Turns to stare at me. “That was so fucking cute.”
“We’re disgusting.”
“Fuck yeah we are, but you know what they say.”
“No, what do they say?”
“The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”
The End
<
br /> My brother thinks he is a douchebag…
Seriously. He fancies himself THE Douchebag (he’s really not). I’m racking my brain for some examples of his douchiness, but the only thing I can come up with is the time he got up to pee in the middle of the night, and ended up peeing in a cabinet in my room. So there is that… But I’d like to thank him for answering my calls when I have questions or need advice about what a “real guy” would do.
My husband and daughter, Merrit, for their patience every time I write a book. Especially this one, because there were a lot of missed meals and long nights when my nose was stuck in the computer. Fine. A few missed showers, too.
A huge, massive thank you to my Beta Readers: Author Andrea Johnston, Author SJ Sawyer, Christine Kuttnauer, Melinda Lazar, and Laurie Darter. Without your feedback and critiques, Zeke wouldn’t be the douchebag he is today.
We are all kindred, you and I—each of us having something in common; books. Reading. Imagination. Thank you to my book friends; you are truly family. There aren’t enough words to describe what our community means to us—so I want to thank Ney’s Little Liars and the Nerdy Little Book Herd for being a part of my daily.
My friends are my family, and one of them also happens to be my right hand. I message her every single day—all day, every day—and could not have finished this book without her patience and feedback. Christine Kuttnauer, you are my jinx for life. I heart you. Thank you for loving this process as much as I do—and thank you to your family for sharing you (Sue Hodge, I’m looking at you…)
Christine, along with Laurie Darter, also helps with my social media, posting giveaways and threads when I’m knee-deep in my writing cave. They keep me organized and on track, despite myself. And they do it asking nothing in return.
Thank you to Caitlin Nelson (Editing by C Marie) for her edits. Julie Titus, (JT Formatting) the most talented Formatter, and Okay Creations for the gorgeous covers; I’m glad I was able to keep this one on schedule. Thank you for taking it from a manuscript, to an actual book.
To my Swag Hags: Book Boyfriend Candles (candles), and Mockingbird Apparel (shirts and decals) for the kick-ass swag. Seriously the best hags a gal could ask for.
Thank you to ALL THE BLOGGERS and Reviewers; there are too many of you to name, but I appreciate all the time you put in to posting, reading, and writing reviews for not just my book—but all books.