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He gives me a wide smile and leans down to plant a soft kiss on my lips. “I’m glad to hear it.”
We wander into the living room and are about to scroll through the streaming service selection when my eye catches on his eReader sitting on the coffee table. “What are you reading?” I ask, pointing to the device.
“I just started the new Stephen King that came out a few weeks ago.”
“Really? Me too. But I haven’t made it very far yet. Between school, work, the party and well”—I glance at him sitting by my side and smile—“everything, I haven’t had much time to read for fun.”
“How far along are you?” He reaches for the eReader, then leans back into the couch.
“I think I’ve only just started chapter three.”
“Well, I’m on chapter four. Come here.” He stretches his body across the coach and pats the spot in front of him. I’m not sure what he’s doing, but there’s no way that I’ll miss an opportunity to cuddle on a coach with Dante.
I gingerly sit and then slowly stretch out next to him, keeping as little contact between our two bodies as possible. Apparently, he’s not having any of that, and he wraps his arm around my waist, then jerks me closer to him so that his front is pressed seamlessly to my back. I lay my head down on his shoulder and breathe in the spicy scent of his soap, closing my eyes and savoring this moment. Before I can open them again, Dante starts reading.
I know that there’s a huge smile covering my face. I can remember all the way back to that first day when I met Dante, and the second I heard his voice I thought how amazing it would sound reading to me. Now here I am, in his arms, enjoying a book with him. My hand absentmindedly goes to the book charm lying on my chest.
As his voice drones on, entertaining while soothing me, I can’t help but think that I’m totally and utterly screwed. How will any other man that comes after Dante live up to this? I know there’s no way we can really and truly make this work in the long run. Not with Bianca, my parents, and our ages. Not to mention the fact that I want a family, and he’s said he’s not interested in starting all over again. There just seems to be too many things in the way. For now, I shove all those thoughts to the back of my mind and soak in this perfect moment with him that I never thought I would get.
SEVENTEEN
Violet
Being cocooned away with Dante Moreno is not a bad way to spend a few days. We passed our time with talking, laughing, reading, watching TV, and orgasms. So many orgasms. That man’s fingers and tongue are magic. Honestly, they should be added as the eighth and ninth wonders of the world.
The only problem—if you could even call it one—is that all the orgasms are mine. He’s never once pushed for sex. Hell, he’s never even let me touch him. Frankly, it’s making me feel a little insecure. Does he not want to sleep with me?
Even though we spent our days wrapped up in each other, I insisted on going home every night. If Bianca noticed I was gone and questioned me about it, I didn’t want to have to lie. I figure a lie of omission has got to be better than an outright lie, right? I’m getting pretty good at justification. Sleeping alone left me longing for Dante, so as soon as the morning rolled around, I was right back at his side.
I’ve been spending so much time with him, I figure he must be sick of me by now and want some space, but every time I was gone he’d text me, checking in and asking when I’d be back, making my heart melt. The past few days have been an exquisite torture.
The only real thing causing me stress has been Tyler. His texts have been increasing in frequency and aggression. I haven’t mentioned it to Dante because I know this is something I need to handle on my own. We have class together today, so I’m going to talk to him and make a clean break. I’m terrible at confrontation, in fact I avoid it at all costs, but I know I need to take care of this before it gets out of hand. And Tyler deserves for me to let him know it’s not going to work out face-to-face.
I hurry down the hallway, clutching my messenger bag, and scurry into class just as Dr. Muzio is about to begin. I’m not ashamed to admit that I planned it this way. Talking to Tyler will be much easier after class. Speaking to him beforehand and then having to sit next to him for the entire class is a whole level of awkwardness that I’m not ready to handle. I look around the classroom and see that the only open chair is directly next to Tyler.
Great.
I shoot him a quick smile, not meeting his eyes, and slide into the seat. While I’m setting down my bag, the professor starts his lecture and I can feel Tyler’s hard stare on me, sending a little chill of dread through my body. Why is breaking up with someone I’ve gone out with twice so hard? Oh right, because I’m a total wimp.
Even though I’m trying to concentrate on what Dr. Muzio is saying, Tyler’s heavy stare stays on me, distracting me. Shouldn’t he be taking notes too? Class seems to simultaneously drag on as well as fly by. When we’re finally let go with a reminder about the paper we have due next week, I feel ready for this confrontation.
Everyone else packs up their things and starts heading out of the classroom, but Tyler and I seem to have a silent, mutual understanding that we’re going to stay right here and talk. When everyone clears out, he jumps right in before I can get a word out.
“What’s going on, Violet? Why haven’t you been answering my calls or texts? I thought we had fun this weekend.”
I take a deep breath and try to remember what I planned on saying. “We did. I had a good time with you, Tyler, but I just don’t think it’s going to work out between us.”
“I don’t understand. Just last week you said you wanted to see where things would go with us.”
I really wasn’t expecting him to push back, so I need to scramble for something to say. I’m definitely not telling him I started hooking up with my longtime, much-older crush and that there’s no way he can compare.
“You’re right. I wanted to see where it could go. You’re a good friend, Tyler. But I’m just not feeling a romantic connection between us. I hope we can still be friends.” I honestly thought that would be the end of it. If somebody told me they wanted to just be friends I would let it go and head off to lick my wounds in private.
Obviously, Tyler Crosson and I aren’t built the same way. I watch his face as it heats and turns red. Not the soft red you get on your cheeks when you’re embarrassed, but that deep crimson that signals a seething anger. He rises out of his chair so that he’s hovering over me, and I have to lean my head back to look into his eyes that have suddenly turned a steel-cold slate.
“So you’re fucking someone else, is that it?”
“Excuse me?” The shock and indignation I’m feeling can be clearly heard in my voice. I quickly grab my bag and scramble out of the chair, so that he’ll no longer be looming above me.
