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Her foot nervously taps against the floor in a metronome’s perfect rhythm while she speaks. My eyes squeeze shut and I can somehow picture her standing there fretting on the other side in that tight uniform.
Or nothing at all.
“I just really need someone to talk to right now, Mom…. Yeah I sent you the money. I know it was only twenty dollars.”
I nod to myself knowingly. Perhaps our parents aren’t too different after all. I’m not questioning what her mom is going to use money for in jail because I get the idea. We’ve transferred money to people who are locked away many times.
The keys to this wealthy kingdom reach into a lot of doors.
Some of them prison doors.
Vi continues, her voice low. “I haven’t got a job yet. I know– I know you need it. I just…”
Utter silence.
That must be the end of that. My hand hovers over the cold knob. I’ve never hated someone I’ve never met before. Violet’s mom, I fucking hate her.
My stalker vibes get cut short when the door swings open. Her bright emerald eyes are glassy and her cheeks are a muted crimson.
Violet gasps then quickly hugs the items in her hands closer together. I notice a pillow and blanket rolled up and held tightly to her torso.
“How long have you been there?” Her voice cracks.
Tell her you heard it all.
No, lie to her.
Neither. Ignore her. “What’s this?” I smack the edge of the blanket, flicking it up into her face for a moment.
She swats my hand away, her face falling into the most blank expression I’ve seen on her. Normally she’s all smiles or full of exaggerated eye rolls. She’s never… nothing.
I'm nothing. Her...she's fucking everything and a lost part of me fucking hates myself for giving her that familiar look that's been in my eyes for years.
“I should be taking the couch. This is your bedroom after all.”
What the fuck.
“No.” I pass my attention slowly over her delicate features.
She's too passive. Especially right now with her emotions already screwed up from whatever carelessness that cunt of a mother said to her.
“Knox there isn’t anywhere else for me to go since your dad is trying to remodel all of the rooms to look like the spread of some sort of home decor magazine.” Her lips press together flatly.
“You think I want my bed now?” I lean closer to her. I want to hear how much it’s tormenting her with every hitch of her hot breath against my lips. “You’ve ruined it with his limp dick. I can't sleep in a limp dick bed. Gives bad vibes.” The emptiness stays on my tone despite how much pleasure those tormenting words just gave me.
She laughs a deep humming sound that always makes me wonder what she’d sound like when she came. “There has been much worse in that bed than Damon, let's be honest.”
She tries to move past me to the hallway, her arm brushing against my chest. I won’t let her. My fingers dig into the doorframe as I hold my stance, caging her small body against mine.
I love the feel of her innocence radiating into me. I love the little shiver of fear and excitement that always races through her when we touch.
“Keep my bed and I’ll keep the couch.” Each word is short and pointed.
Lessons are to be learned the hard way, and with Reed occupying the space too, I’m sure there is more room for… shall I say, growing?
“You’ve got to be kidding.” She swivels away from me, taking her rich vanilla scent with her. God I love the way she makes my sheets smell.
Not that I'll be smelling them anytime soon.
