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And the question I hate the most is, “How long is he here for?” Hannah’s big gray eyes narrow nervously.
“Six weeks,” I say.
“Shit,” they both say in unison.
Yeah, shit is right.
CHAPTER 14
Lincoln
Walking across the parking lot, we huddle together, my hand resting on Violet’s hip.
It’s so natural to be with her. She fits perfectly by my side.
I can’t push down this feeling of completeness when I’m around her. Everything feels good. Right.
As if the earth stopped spinning, she grounded me and became my gravity.
She’s worlds apart from other girls I’ve dated—er, slept with—and this new infatuation I have for her is foreign to me.
I remember when my dad told me he was dating Eva that it felt special and different.
That’s how I feel about Violet, too. It’s not something I can describe or pinpoint either.
It’s so strange to feel more for this girl in two days than I have with anyone. Ever.
Unaware of my thoughts, Violet hasn’t stopped tweeting away about what an amazing night she’s had and how much she loves my dancing. She asked me dozens of questions.
I taught myself to dance by watching hundreds of hip hop videos on social media when I was a kid. Then I begged my dad to pay for online classes for me to follow. I picked it up quickly and loved it, but it was always just a hobby for me and something I did in the privacy of my own bedroom.
But when Dylan was looking for dancers and barmen for his charity evenings, I jumped at the chance and it gave me something to do on a Saturday night while here in Santa Monica. Plus no one knows me here.
There was a time when Saturdays, for me, were all about parties and hitting the clubs and although I come across as the guy who is up for anything and always wants to go out, I’ve changed over the last few years and even more so while traveling.
I much prefer binging a series on the television or sitting on the beach to watch the sunset.
Another thing I’ve realized too, is the reason I spend a lot of time working in the hotel is because I don’t have anyone to spend my life with.
Before I left Scotland, Jacob was content with Erin and Owen with Skye. But our bro trio became a quintet, and I was the square peg that didn’t fit into their round hole, so it felt awkward on nights out.
As time rolled by, the guys' relationships became more serious and Saturday evenings became double date nights, so I started working on Saturdays instead or I spent it washing my car or watching television.
Hence why I offered to dance at Confessions while here, too. It’s fun, easy, and fills my time, because yet again, even on the other side of the world, I still have no one to spend them with.
Although that appears to have changed in the last few days.
I look down at Violet, who looks up at me at the same time. She’s shorter because she trapped a heel in the cobblestones as we were leaving, and her broken shoe is currently swinging in her hand back and forth gleefully as she walks. She’s right; she is accident-prone.
“Give me those. I’ll carry them.” She passes me her broken shoes.
On tippy-toes, she smacks a kiss to my lips as she continues to wiggle her hips against my other hand.
Something weird happens in my chest when she lays her hand over my heart. Something I can’t describe. But it’s nice, warm. Like home.
Like I belong.
There has always been a gnawing sensation in my gut when I think about my mom leaving me when I was a baby. A small part of me that feels not good enough or imperfect.
