The Probability of Violet and Luke

by Jessica Sorensen

  “I don’t have a few days.” I rub my hand down my face then wince, forgetting that my cheek is injured. “I’m so fucked.”

  “We’ll figure it out. Nothing I haven’t handled before,” Cole mumbles while Ryler shoots a glare at his dad and throws the beer cap at him to get him to open his eyes. When he does, Ryler mouths something, but I can’t catch what. “Hey, I’m good at figuring stuff out under pressure,” Cole tells Ryler then looks up at me. “You think maybe you could ask your dad to spot us some cash so we can get things moving again?”

  I shake my head and back out of the room. “I’m not asking my father for anything.”

  He frowns. “Luke, it might be our only option.”

  I hate the way he says our option as if his problem has become my problem. “I have enough problems of my own,” I tell him. “I don’t need anymore.”

  “Just think about it,” Cole says while Ryler shakes his head, aggravated, as if his father does this all the time and Ryler is tired of it. “I’m sure he would do it for you if you asked him.”

  Even if I wanted to ask him, I’m not so sure he would or if he has access to that kind of money. But I don’t want to go down that road with my father anyway, so it’s not an option. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” I tell Cole then leave the room. He calls out my name, almost panicking, but I know it’s not over me. It’s over himself. He’s a gambling addict. Pure and simple. My possible future, if I don’t figure out a way to straighten my act up. What a wake up call. Although, I’m not even sure if it’s what just barely happened, if it had something to do with finding out the truth about what happened to Amy, or if it was Violet opening up to me and making me want to be a better person.

  As I tiredly drag my sore ass up the stairs, I try to remember how I got to this point in time, how I messed up my life so badly. Tired. Beat up. Broke. Alone. The last one might not be so true. That’s really up to Violet and whether she’ll ever have me again. Honestly, she’d be better off without me, at least until I clean my act up, but I’m too selfish to walk away from her.

  That’s what I’m trying to convince myself not to be—selfish—when I enter the room and see her lying in bed, the covers kicked down, wearing one of my shirts, her long legs stretched out, I realize I need her. Through the insanity of my life, Violet is the one sane thing I have, even if our relationship is insane itself.

  She’s left a lamp on, so there’s a soft trail of light in the small room. I tug my shirt off and slip my boots off as I make my way to the bed, pausing when I get beside it to unbutton my jeans and take them off. Her back is to me, her head resting against the pillow, her hair lose and down her back. I reach forward and brush it aside, then trace my fingertips along the two stars on her neck, her skin so soft and familiar, everything I want.

  I can barely remember the first time I ever had sex and all the times after are a blur until I met Violet. Sure, it always felt good, for me at least. Not sure about the women since I didn’t care nor did I stick around long enough to ask. There was something about having that kind of control over a person like that—where I could just walk away before they ever used me—that made me feel briefly content. It would always fade though and I’d only get the contentment again when I fucked the next one and so on and so on. I’ve never actually been with anyone more than once, including Violet, but not because I used her and bailed like with the rest of the women I’ve been with. Violet has always been different from anyone else I’ve been with. I knew that the first moment she literally fell into me. At the time, I didn’t know what exactly made her different or why I had the sudden need to be around the same woman for more than an hour. But now I think I know.

  Because I’m in love with her. But I can’t tell her that. Not yet. I’m not ready and neither is she. In fact, I’m not sure she’ll ever be ready for that, at least with me, but I want to stick around and find out—be there for her.

  Sucking in a deep breath over this terrifying revelation to myself, I climb into the bed and press up against her, wrapping my arms around her, slipping one underneath the crook of her neck so her head is resting on my arm like a pillow. I feel her jump a little and I half expect her to wake up out of her nightmare and be in panic, like she normally is whenever she wakes up. But she must have been awake the entire time, because she barely stirs before she relaxes against me.

  “You smell like cigars,” she mutters as my fingers drift up and down her side. “And beer.”

  I pull her closer against me and breathe in her scent; something vanilla with a hint of perfume that makes me briefly shut my eyes and get lost. “You look good in my shirt,“ I whisper, opening my eyes, then I sweep her hair out of the way and kiss the sensitive spot on her neck, right below her jawline, letting my lips linger there to taste her skin.

  “Luke…” She almost sounds torn, her fingers finding my arm and digging into my skin. I wait for her to pull away, stop us from doing something, but then her back curves in and her ass presses against my cock.

  The contact of it makes me groan and bite down on her skin more roughly than I intended on doing. In response, her nails stab into my skin, her back arching even more as my knee slides between her legs and I slip my hand up underneath her shirt to grip her hip, her skin warm.

  “God, you feel so good…” I trail off as I start sucking on her neck and rubbing my knee against her while she begins rocking her hips with my movements, causing my cock to go rock hard. I could seriously be content with this, just touching her, and it’s frightening that I don’t need to take more, even though I want it. Need is so much different than want. Need is something driven by an addiction while want is something I want do to. Want. I want Violet.

  She must think the opposite though because suddenly she’s slipping out from my hold. My eyes widen as she moves away from me, but then she turns around, climbing on top of me and straddling me. Reaching for the collar of her shirt, she yanks it over her head and tosses it onto the floor, strands of her red and black hair falling to her bare shoulders. She’s not wearing a bra or panties and when her nipples hit the air they instantly get hard, which makes my cock instantly get more eager.

  “Fuck, baby, I…” I trail off as she helps me slip my boxers off and then returns to my lap. I’ve never had a girl take control like this before. Usually I’m the one that needs the control. And it’s hard not to grab her and flip her over, take things over, but I manage to stay put beneath her and see where this goes.

  A small smile touches her lips as she places her hands on my shoulders and pins me down to the mattress. “I think you were going to say something along the lines of I win.” Then she reaches down and grabs my jeans from off the floor. Before I can ask her what she’s doing, she sits back up and puts a condom down on my chest.

  “How did you know one was in there?” I ask, picking up the condom.

  She shrugs, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “I just assumed.”

  I frown. “You know I haven’t been with anyone since you, right?”

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you had,” she says. “We weren’t together.”

  “Well, I haven’t.” And it’s the truth. Sure I’ve thought about messing around, taking my mind off stuff, but going through with it was too hard and always thinking of Violet would put an end to it before things ever got too far.

  “I guess you’re a little deprived then.” She rocks her hips, rubbing her wetness against my cock. Jesus, I swear she knows exactly how to get under my skin, in the best fucking way possible.

  Something snaps inside me, something that I’ve never felt before. And I feel even more helpless when she starts to lower herself down on me, slipping my dick inside her. Halfway down, I can’t take it anymore and with one hard thrust, I slam my hips against her and thrust my cock deep inside her.

  She immediately winces and bites down on her lip, her muscles tightening around me. I freeze, suddenly remembering that she’s only had sex once, and that was two months ago. She’s still
tight as hell and I was rough. Really, really fucking rough.

  “Shit, did I hurt you,” I ask, sweeping some of her hair out of her face as her fingernails stab into my shoulders.

  She shakes her head, the pain in her expression shifting to pleasure as she rolls her hips. “No… it feels good, just a little intense… it’s been a while…” She repeats the rolling movement over and over again with her hips, going slowly, as if she’s savoring the sensations, her hands going to her shoulders and she runs her fingers down her body.

  It’s driving me crazy, watching her eyes gloss over, her lips part as she presses down on me, touching herself, totally in control. Finally, I lose it again and start moving with her, thrusting my hips upward, my hands finding her waist and holding on. I move slow at first, but then get faster, harder, rougher the more she moans. Her grip on me loosens as her head starts to fall back and I sit up, still holding onto her and moving, so I can press my lips to hers. She kisses back briefly, but is so lost in the moment, she ends up biting down on my bottom lip.

  “Harder,” she gasps, pressing against me as I rock into her, our movements matching perfectly. “Oh God… please… harder…”

  I’m terrified beyond imaginable. Seriously. I can’t think about anything else but her. Every single part of me belongs to her at that moment. I feel something change inside me, something that makes me want to be a better person forever.

  I love you. I want to say. My problems are momentarily forgotten. Life is momentarily forgotten. And all I can do is hold on and hope I never have to let go.

  Violet

  Holy hell, this is way, way better than the first time I had sex. Less painful. More intense. But I think that might be because Luke is letting go more this time instead of being careful with me.

  I’m on top of him, clutching onto his shoulders, while he sits up and thrust deep inside me, the movement of my hips matching his. One of his hands is gripping at my waist, while the other rests at the base of my neck, putting gentle pressure against my flesh as he holds onto me and kisses me with so much passion I can barely breathe.

  We keep moving and moving, getting more lost in each other, our skin beading with sweat as we become breathless, exhausted, but it feels way too good to stop—I never want it to stop. And he seems to feel the same way too, savoring each kiss, grip, bite, each brush of our skin and uniting of our bodies until we both fall helplessly into bliss at the same time.

  I cry out in sheer pleasure, the sound of my voice unrecognizable as my fingers stab at his skin in desperation, needing to hold onto something. Luke keeps thrusting into me a few moments longer before he starts to slow, pressing one last time deep inside of me as his head collapses against my chest.

  He remains still for a while, breathing heavily against my chest, like he’s afraid to move. I kind of don’t want him to either, because everything feels perfect right now, which is rare for me, if nonexistent. But eventually he shifts back down, slipping out of me, but bringing me with him and pulling me against him as we lie in the bed, face to face. As the lamp cast the light over his cheek, I realize there’s a massive lump there, on top of a preexisting bruise and a little bit of dried blood. I’d been so caught up in the intimate moment, I hadn’t realized it was there until now.

  “What happened?” I ask, gently placing my hand over the injury. “Did you get in a fight?”

  He shrugs, eyes on mine as he leans into my touch as if my hand is soothing him. “A little one, but nothing too major.”

  “Did you get caught cheating?”

  His breath falters from his lips. “Cole did, but it’s not that big of a deal. I don’t owe any money or anything.”

  His voice is off pitch and all that peace we had moments ago shatters into a million pieces I so want to put it back together again. “They took the money, didn’t they?” I ask with a frown.

  He doesn’t answer my question, only uttering, “I’ll figure something out.” He blows out a tired breath and then rubs his eyes, appearing worn out.

  “”I want to help,” I tell him, tracing the lines of one of his tattoos on his rib cage. There are actually several tattoos on him and he told me once that he went through a phase where he’d get a tattoo every time he felt shitty, which meant he felt shitty a lot. “Let me help.”

  “I’m not going to let you deal drugs to help me,” he says in a clipped tone, shaking his head. “I’d rather get the shit beat out of me than have you do that and owe him.” His expression softens a little as he puts a hand on my back and gently sketches his finger up and down my spine. “Let me sleep on it. I might have an idea, but I need to figure out how desperate I am.”

  I don’t know what his idea is, but it worries me, because the last time I saw that look of pure helplessness on his face was the night he told me that his mother could possibly be my parent’s killer.

  Chapter 14

  Luke

  I watch her sleep for most of the night. Thinking. My head so cluttered I can barely breathe. By the time I’m actually finished the sun is coming up and I’ve had absolutely no sleep whatsoever. It’s been that way for the last couple of months and between that and the drinking, I’m starting to feel the effects of it on my body. Constantly tired, I wonder how I’m ever going to survive football season if I don’t get my act together.

  My act together. It seems like I have so much to do before that can ever be possible, but as I lie here looking at Violet asleep in my arms, I want to do it more than anything.

  As the sun rises higher and lights up the room, I decide to take the first step, even though I don’t want to at all. I begrudgingly get out of bed and grab my phone to make a call I never thought I could make in a million years. But the alternative, staying here until I can figure something else out, isn’t something I want to do anymore.

  It’s still early in California, but my dad answers after three rings. “Luke, is everything okay?”

  I swear to God it’s like he knows I need something. “Not really.” I pause, waiting for him to say something but he doesn’t as I stare out the window. “Look, I need a favor…. I need to borrow some money.” If he turns me down again, I don’t think I can ever ask him for anything.

  “Okay.” He already sounds wary. “How much do you need?”

  I glance over my shoulder as Violet stirs in the bed, then make my way over to the bathroom attached to the room and go inside so I don’t wake her up. “Nine grand.”

  He lets out a slow, low whistle. “Shit, Luke. That’s a lot of money.”

  “I know it is.” I shut the door, recline against it, and slide to the floor. “I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t an emergency.”

  “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  “You could say that.” I hesitate, not sure I want to tell him, not wanting to give him the right of knowing me yet, but then suddenly there’s all this pressure inside my chest and it explodes without warning. Everything comes pouring out of me. And not just the gambling part. I tell him how much I drink. What happened between Violet and I. Everything my mom did. Even what I found in Amy’s journal. And by the end I’m crying, like a scared little boy. It makes me feel so pathetic. So weak. So out of control, like when I lived with my mother, and part of me hates myself, but the other part feels relieved, like I can breathe again.

  “Luke, we’re going to fix this,” my dad says after I finally stop sobbing long enough for him to speak again.

  “You can’t fix it,” I say, sucking back the tears. “Not most of it anyway.”

  “Well, I’m going to fix what I can,” he tells me so calmly. I don’t even know how he’s doing it. I just piled on twenty years of baggage onto him and he’s cool as can be. “And the rest we’ll figure out together.” He pauses as if he’s collecting himself. “The first thing I’m going to do is wire you the money. You can head back to Laramie and it should be there by the time you get there. Then you’ll pay back this Geraldson guy.”

  I wipe the tears from my eyes with t
he back of my hand. “And then what?”

  “And then I want you to come visit me,” he says and before I can protest, he adds, “Just for a week, so we can talk and maybe get to know each other a little bit better... I’d like to get to know my son.”

  “You think talking is going to help?” I question skeptically. “Because I’m not so sure.”

  “I think it’s a step… and if you’ll let me, I’d like to take that step with you and hopefully more steps.” He sighs. “I know I haven’t been there for you and I can’t make up for the past.” Now he sounds like he’s choking up. “But I’d like to try my damn hardest. You just need to let me try.”

  “I have football practice starting in a couple of weeks,” I say. “And classes. It’s hard for me to go somewhere right now.”

  “Can you take some time off?” he asks, hopeful. “Just a week or so.”