The thought of his name makes my stomach spin. Or maybe that’s the alcohol.
I am really, truly, thoroughly hammered now. I think it’s time for water.
I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror at the bar as I wash my hands. I’m average looking, I guess. I don’t have any particularly horrifying features; at least none that I can see. Sometimes I might even be pretty, I think, except I’ve never had a boyfriend. So it does make me wonder…
And now I don’t have a job either, so what could I bring to the table?
I shake the thoughts aside, stumbling back out of the bathroom. I spot Alistair and Finn sitting at a table. Finn’s back is to me, but even from behind, I can catch the sides of his swoopy hair. He’s wearing what looks like a very soft, maroon T-shirt tonight. I noticed earlier that it makes his hazel eyes pop. I feel a little dizzy looking at him this long, even if it’s only the back of his head. I can’t fully suppress the memory of his hot skin under my hands.
Alistair, meanwhile, looks only at his wife-to-be, who is holding court at the bar. I’m close enough to hear them now, and without taking his eyes off Florence, Alistair asks his brother, So what do you make of Violet? I saw you two chatting for a while here earlier.
I freeze, hoping they don’t notice me. I’m drunk, but not drunk enough to mishear Finn.
Violet, he says, taking a sip of his beer as he pauses, is a total weirdo. He chuckles and it feels mean. I feel the sting in the back of my throat, the tears immediately welling up my eyes.
I move away before I can hear anymore. I try to forget it, but the memory stays lodged in my throat.
It’s not like I don’t know this about myself. I’ve heard it my whole life. Weird Violet with her weird family and her weird houses and her weird clothes. I love my family, although I could have done with a more permanent address from time to time. Thank god my grandparents have had the same house since before I was born.
The only thing I could really hang onto was that I did well in school. I got good grades, got a good scholarship, eventually a good job. Now I can’t even rely on that.
And I knew, on some level, that someone like Finn, who looks like that and has his choice of women, wouldn’t want anything to do with me.
I knew it, and yet, the hurt still stings.
Florence warned me he was an asshole, after all.
I make my way back to my friends. The bar is thinning out now, I have no concept of time, only that I’ve reached my limit. My alcohol limit, and my social limit.
Alba senses my distress before I even have to say a word, and I love her for it.
Time to head out? Alba doesn’t get enough credit for how much she sees in other people. I only manage to nod in reply, praying she doesn’t question me until tomorrow, when I’m sober enough to get my story straight.
All I can do now is hope the alcohol does its job, and makes me forget this entire mess of a night.
Chapter 9
VIOLET
THE NEXT MORNING, I’M HUNGOVER as hell and regretting every single choice I’ve made lately: coming here early for the wedding, having those two (or was it four?) extra tequila shots, opening my big fat mouth.
I start spiralling. About my job. About my family. About my non-existent dating life.
I’m lying sprawled out on the dock, the sun beating down, warm and soothing against my skin. The lake is flat and calm this morning and two loons have been floating on the water nearby. Maybe, I think dramatically, the sun will evaporate me like the water, and I can forget all of this ever happened.
How did I end up like this? I’m smart, I’m capable.
And I’m utterly lost. I’ve been drowning for a long, long time.
Head down, work done, burned out.
I have my arm draped over my eyes, so I don’t immediately notice his approach. But soon the wharf is swaying, his footsteps rocking the wooden fixture.
I don’t even bother moving my arm aside. I know I’m not lucky enough that it will be anyone other than Finn. Probably looking refreshed and not hungover at all, just perfectly tanned and ripped. I don’t dare look. Maybe, hopefully, he’ll think I’m asleep and leave.
He kicks my calf playfully, before drawling, Good morning sunshine.
Noooooooooooo, is the only thing I can manage to get out in response.
