Violets are not Blue

by Melissa Toppen

  Harris pours us each a glass before relaxing back in his seat, running a hand through his hair as he lifts the glass to his lips.

  He looks so good that when I pick up my glass, I empty half the contents in one long drink, trying to cool the sudden heat that seems to be crawling up my neck.

  Harris chuckles, his eyes going from me to my glass and then back to me.

  “Thirsty?” he asks, trying to suppress a smile.

  “Very.” I lift the glass to my lips and take another long drink.

  “Are you one of those women that gets drunk off one beer?”

  “Is that your way of asking me if I’m a cheap date, Mr. Avery?” I challenge, resting my glass on the table in front of me, the beer already warming me from the inside out.

  “Are you?” He lifts a brow.

  “Stick around and find out,” I tell him, finishing off my beer in one more long pull before quickly refilling it.

  I may not be a huge drinker, but I can usually hold my liquor pretty well. I can count how many times I’ve been sick from drinking on one finger, because it’s only happened once. And that was nearly three years ago. The night I caught James making out with a woman that wasn’t me. Let’s just say tequila was my friend that night, or my enemy depending on how you look at it.

  “Oh, I’m not going anywhere.” Harris pulls me from my thoughts before the memory gets a hold of me. He leans forward, placing his elbows on the table. “In fact, I feel a little wager coming on.” The way he’s looking at me causes me to shift in my seat again.

  “If you’re going to bet me that you can drink me under the table, don’t waste your breath. I already know you’d win.” That and I have absolutely no desire to get drunk with Harris. A buzz to relieve some tension and nerves is fine. But drunk, hell no. I wish I could say it’s because I don’t trust him, but if I’m being honest, I think it’s me I don’t trust.

  “Oh no, I’ve got something much more interesting in mind.” His smile turns wicked, causing a flurry of butterflies to erupt in my stomach.

  Uh oh...

  Chapter Six

  Harris

  God this woman is beautiful. Her looks. Her laugh. Her sassy attitude. There isn’t a thing about her that I don’t like. I’m determined to win her over if it’s the last thing I do.

  But I have yet to figure out why the hell I care so much. The effort I’ve put in with her far surpasses that of any other woman I’ve pursued before. Then again, I don’t normally have to pursue women as they tend to pursue me. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m so drawn to her because she’s the first person to ever flat out tell me no. Her disinterest only makes me more interested in her.

  The chase. It’s thrilling and exhilarating and I’m loving every second of this back and forth dance we seem to be doing. I have no doubt that I will wear her down and tonight I will set my plan in motion.

  We make small talk as we eat our wings. I’m pretty impressed that unlike most women I go to dinner with, she clears her plate unapologetically before she leans back in the booth, her hands resting on her slender stomach.

  “So, how am I doing so far? I’m knocking this date out of the park, aren’t I?” I wait until the food has been cleared away and we’re halfway through our third pitcher of beer before asking.

  “It’s not a date,” she reminds me.

  “I hate to break it to you, but this most certainly is a date.”

  “Nope. It isn’t.” She smiles, clearly feeling the effects of the beer.

  “What do you have against dates?” I can’t help but ask, desperate to learn as much about Blue Daniels as I can.

  “Not dates, more dating,” she clarifies.

  “Okay, so what do you have against dating?”

  “Too complicated. Too messy. You spend months or even years of your life compromising who you are for someone else, and for what? So they can betray you and hurt you every chance they get. No thank you.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’ve experienced this firsthand?”

  “Because I have.” She shrugs. “I was engaged once upon a time.”

  “What happened?”

  “Long story short, I caught him cheating with a woman he worked with.”

  “Damn, I’m sorry.” I refrain from telling her that any guy stupid enough to cheat on her never deserved her to begin with, but I doubt she wants to hear that from me.

  “It’s been a long time and I learned a lot about myself. The main thing being that I like being single more than I like being in a relationship. Besides, love is just a chemical reaction in our brains. It’s not real.”

  “Wait. Are you telling me you don’t think love is real?”

  “Do you?”

  “Yeah.”

  She gives me a disbelieving look. “Have you ever been in love?”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you know it’s real?”

  “I don’t know. I just do.”

  “Have you ever even been in a serious relationship?”

  “Define serious.” I chuckle at her put off expression.

  “Have you ever dated someone exclusively?”

  “Once or twice in high school.”

  “High school?” She chokes on her beer.

  “I guess I just haven’t found the right woman.”

  “How is that possible when you’ve slept with half the city?”

  “There you go, assuming things again.”

  “So you’re saying that you haven’t slept your way through half of Boston.”

  “I didn’t say that either.” We both crack a smile at my honesty.

  Half of Boston might be a serious over exaggeration, but I’ve definitely been with my fair share of women over the years.

  “You really are a whore. I bet you can’t go one month without sleeping with someone.”

  “You wanna make a bet on that?”

  “That’s the way you want to play this?” she challenges. “Because I promise you I’ll win.”

  “Name your terms.”

  “I bet that you can’t go one month without having sex. And that includes oral. If you actually pull it off and prove me wrong, I’ll never call you a whore again.”

  “And what do you get if you win?”

  “The satisfaction of knowing that I was right.”

  “Fine, but I get to throw in a bet of my own.”

  Her face goes stern and she narrows her pretty blue eyes at me.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no,” she tells me point blank.

  “Now how can you shoot something down without first hearing the proposal?”

  “I don’t need to hear the proposal when I know the person it’s coming from and what it probably entails.”

  “Just hear me out, yeah?” I wait until she gives me a tentative nod before continuing. “You think love isn’t real. Well, I think you’re hiding behind the fear of being hurt again.”

  “You’re wrong, but I’ll bite.” She leans back in her seat, lifting her beer to her lips as she watches me.

  “You think I’m a womanizer player. I think you’re whole ‘don’t believe in love’ bit is bullshit. So, here’s our chance to prove each other wrong.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I bet that in four weeks’ time I can make you fall in love with me.”

  She stares at me for a long moment before a wide smile splits across her face and she bursts into a fit of laughter. Not sure that was the reaction I was going for, but at least she’s not running away.

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Glad I amuse you.”

  “Even if I was looking for love, in what universe would you ever think I would actually fall for someone like you?”

  “You don’t know me yet. But trust me, you will. And once you do, you’ll be as sure as I am that I’ll win.”

  “You are so sure of yourself; I’m tempted to agree just to see the look on your face when you lose.”


  “Don’t believe me? Call me on it and find out.”

  “And when you don’t succeed.”

  “Then I’ll never bother you again.” I grin, leaning forward. “But if I win, I get you.”

  It seems to take her a moment to process what I’m saying, but once she does her eyes go wide.

  “You want to have sex with me?” she hisses across the table.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.” From how I’ve caught her staring at me on occasion I know that she’s at least considered the possibility.

  “Never.” She draws back like I’ve truly insulted her.

  “Liar.”

  “I’m not lying. I know women not wanting to sleep with you is a new concept to you, but newsflash, I do not want to sleep with you.” She’d annunciated each word, making sure I heard her clearly.

  “Scared you’ll like it too much?”

  “You really are the most arrogant person I’ve ever met.” She shakes her head, going in for another drink of beer.

  “Don’t mistake arrogance for my ability to read people. You want me, Blue Daniels. It’s just that simple.”

  “Oh my god. Do you hear yourself?” She laughs, unable to hold a straight face any longer. “And even if I was willing to consider your bet, which I’m not, how do I know you won’t be screwing with me for a month to wear down my defenses and it’ll all turn out to be one big fat lie once you get in my pants?”

  “Sounds like you already know I’ll win. Maybe someone isn’t so sure that love isn’t real after all.”

  “I never said that.”

  “If you’re so sure I have no way of winning then you have nothing to be afraid of.”

  She thinks on this for a minute.

  “You know what, fine. I’ll take your bet. And Harris.” She leans forward, “I hope you like the taste of defeat.”

  “I like the taste of victory even more.”

  Chapter Seven

  Blue

  “You did what?” Hannah screams into the phone so loudly I have to pull the device away from my face out of fear of her damaging my ear drum.

  “It was stupid. I was buzzed and I let the alcohol do the talking.” The only explanation for my complete and utter brain fart from last night.

  It was too easy to say yes. The warmth of the beer running through my veins. The smooth-talking god sitting across from me. I was like putty in his hands. I never stood a chance. And what’s worse, I really enjoyed my time with him, as much as I hate to admit it.

  But now, the little wager I made with Harris seems a lot less harmless in the light of day. I’ve already thought of a billion ways to get out of it. And while I know all I have to do is tell him no, for some reason the thought of doing that seems impossible.

  Is it because deep down I really want him to prove me wrong?

  “Holy shit. Holy shit,” Hannah repeats into the phone, clearly trying to process what I’ve told her.

  “And after all that he didn’t make any moves on you?” she asks.

  “Not one. We drank too much so we shared an Uber. My apartment was closer so the driver dropped me off first. And that was it.”

  “Oh he’s good.”

  “What do you mean he’s good?”

  “He’s trying to show you he’s not the player you think he is. Making a move on a drunk girl doesn’t get him off on the right foot, does it?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So what do I do? I can’t possibly go through with this. We work together.”

  “Are you scared you might actually fall for the guy?”

  “No,” I answer too quickly.

  If she doesn’t buy my answer, she doesn’t comment on it.

  “Look, it’s innocent, really. He can’t sleep with anyone for four weeks so you don’t have that to stress over. What’s the harm? He’ll probably flirt with you, maybe wine and dine you. I say go for it. Who knows, maybe it’ll turn out to be a good thing.”

  “I seriously doubt that.”

  “Well, you don’t really lose anything either way, right? He gets blue balls for a month and you get to spend that time making it even more difficult for him.”

  “I never looked at it that way.” I giggle, thinking maybe I was approaching this all wrong.

  “See, that’s why you have me. Because I’m a genius.” I can hear the smile in her voice.

  “Now let’s not go too far,” I tease.

  “Oh hush.” I hear her hand slide over the receiver and her muffled voice talking to someone in the background. “Hey, sorry. I gotta go. I promised Mom we’d hit that new brunch place across town, but they close at one so we have to head that way if we want any hopes of getting a table.”

  “Okay, are you still good to take me to pick up my car in the morning?” Since Harris and I took an Uber home, we’d both left our cars in the office lot.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll text you in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Hannah! You two have fun. Tell your mom I said hello.”

  “Will do. And you’ll call me with any updates.”

  “I think I’m safe until Monday.”

  “Talk later. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” When the call disconnects, I drop my cell onto my dresser and flop back on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

  When I woke up this morning I had the worst pit in my stomach, thinking what did I do? But after talking to Hannah I feel mildly better about it. She’s right. What’s the harm in letting Harris try to win me over? It’s not like he’ll actually succeed...

  Right?

  I don’t have long to worry over it before my cell phone starts ringing, pulling me from my thoughts. Shooting up in bed, I scramble to my feet and snag the device off my dresser. I damn near fall over when I see Harris’ name flashing across the screen. We’d exchanged numbers last night before the Uber dropped me off.

  I debate whether or not to answer it for so long that the call ends up going to voicemail. Unsure if I should call him back or not, I decide to head into the kitchen to make something to eat and mull it over. I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about all of this. I mean, I hate the guy...don’t I?

  My apartment is small, and given that the bedroom is right off the kitchen/living room combo, it doesn’t take me long to reach my destination.

  I moved in here after James and I split. I picked this place because of how close it is to my job, plus I love being in the city. I love the hustle and bustle of the people coming and going, along with all the things there are to do here. It’s not much but it’s nice and it’s easy to manage, which is a bonus for someone who has some serious clean freak tendencies. Sometimes I wish I had a bigger place but what do I need it for? It’s just me and it’s not like I have a ton of stuff. I’m a pretty minimalistic person.

  I’ve just popped some frozen pancakes into the microwave when a hard knock sounds on my front door. Startled by the unexpected noise, I jump slightly.

  Crossing to the front door, I stand up on tip toes to peer out of the peep hole. The first and only thing I see is a huge bouquet of flowers blocking my view of anything else. Sure they must have the wrong address; I open the door to inform them only to find out that they are, in fact, for me.

  “Are you sure?” I ask the delivery guy for a second time as he shoves the bouquet into my arms.

  “I’m sure. Have a good day.” He turns and heads back down the hallway without another word.

  Closing the door, I make my way back into the kitchen, setting the flowers, a beautiful array of blues and reds, on the countertop before searching for a card. Plucking it out of the middle, I peel it open with shaky fingers.

  Roses may be red,

  but violets are not BLUE.

  Something else surprising is,

  I can’t stop thinking about you.

  Am I winning yet?

  Harris

  I laugh. What the hell else am I supposed to do? He sent me flowers.

>   Wait, how did he know where I live? Yes, he knows the building because he was with me when the Uber dropped me off last night, but I never mentioned which apartment I live in. If I wasn’t so distracted trying to figure out why he sent me flowers, I might be more concerned.

  If he thinks he can get me to fall in love with him by sending me something that will be dead in days, he really doesn’t have as much game as I thought.

  Then again, the gesture is oddly sweet. And the card. I didn’t miss the way he intentionally used my name in his little attempt at a poem. And he wasn’t wrong, violets are actually purple, or well, violet.

  But it’s the other words that have my mind wondering... I can’t stop thinking about you.

  “Relax, Blue. It’s just a bet,” I reassure myself, grabbing my cell phone to snap a picture before quickly shooting it over to Hannah.

  Me: He actually sent me flowers! Can you believe it?

  After sending the message, I notice I have a new voicemail. Clicking on the icon, I press the phone to my ear, a full-blown shiver running through my body at the sound of Harris’ voice on the line.

  “Hey Blue, it’s Harris.”

  Has his voice always been this sexy?

  Lord, what is wrong with me today?

  “I wanted to see if you needed a ride to pick up your car. Also, two tickets to tonight’s Sox game just fell into my lap and after our conversation last night, I thought maybe you’d like to go with me? If nothing else for the hotdogs.” He chuckles and the sound is deep and rich. “Anyway, call me back when you get this. Game is at 7:10.” A pause, and then, “And please say yes,” he adds before the message ends.

  What are the odds that the day after I told him I’d never been to a baseball game, two tickets would happen to fall into his lap for tonight’s game? That can’t be just a coincidence, can it?

  I have to resist the urge to call him back. The fact that I actually want to is a little worrisome, but I chalk it up to pure animalistic attraction. The guy is gorgeous, after all. And I am a woman with a very healthy sexual appetite. What can I say? Maybe he’s getting to me a little. Not that I see myself falling for him, but I wouldn’t be completely against causing him to lose his bet.