I’d always wanted them to be friends, even though they were so different. I’d also thought Ollie and I were solid enough to handle anything. Opposites attract, they say. I would have never guessed…
When I started to tear up, I pressed my lips together and looked up at the ceiling. I was not going to cry—again—about this. Not in the middle of a fast food mukbang. I’d broken up with him first. I had reasons for that which I needed to remember. So why did it hurt so much?
I stepped into the room and looked around. The sun shone through the window, making the space brighter and warmer than mine. My violin called to me again. Wouldn’t this make a wonderful music room?
Ideas brewing, I darted across the hall and changed into my junkie old sweats. Now I had a mission. A goal. And maybe it was exactly what I needed to pull myself together.
Chapter Two
Josh
“But I love him, Josh. And you’re not the boss of me.”
I gripped the phone as I listened to my sister’s words and got dressed for the SuperGame party. “You’re not getting married. You’re only nineteen.”
“It’s legal. And I am. I don’t care what you say.”
For my entire twenty-two years, I’d been the caretaker for my four little sisters. Amelia, the oldest and problem child of the month, was seriously grating on my nerves. “You just met the guy. I’m not letting you marry him. End of story.”
“You’re not letting me? What are you going to do about it?” I could tell by the tone of her voice that her question was a challenge.
I had nothing. There was nothing I could do, so I bluffed. “I’ll cut you off. You can pay for your own car insurance, your own phone.” Even though the little bit of money we had was technically my mother’s, I paid the bills and managed the accounts.
Amelia laughed. “I don’t need money. Dominic is very successful, and you’re not my father. If you want to treat someone like a child, you have three others behind me. I’m legally an adult now, Josh, and me even telling you this was a courtesy for all you’ve done for us. I’m not asking permission.”
My blood pressure rose as I squeezed the phone. “Fine. Then we have nothing else to say.”
“Fine,” she answered. “I love you.”
I harrumphed and hung up the call. There was no way I was going to let my sister marry some douchebag she’d just met a few months ago. He’s the mayor of Charlamagne’s son, my grandmother had told me the first time Amelia pulled this shit. I didn’t care if he was the damn President of the United States.
If I didn’t have my own life to live, I’d hop in my truck and drive the six hours to Virginia, to our small town where they all still lived. I hated being this far away from them, but NJU was the only school that would give me a football scholarship. Being in New Jersey made it hard for me to manage their lives like I'd been doing since Dad died ten years ago, but it had put some distance between us and found me a brother in Ollie.
I missed him. We texted every day and talked at least once a week since he’d been gone, but it wasn’t the same as having him here. The guys on the team and in the fraternity were awesome, but Ollie was the only person I’d let my guard down around.
Even though somewhere along the line I’d fallen in love with his girlfriend.
I looked at the time and grabbed my keys, texting Violet that I was on my way. I wanted to bring something with us for Grant since he was hosting the party. Grant, who was a couple of years older than us, was sort of Violet’s landlord. His father owned the store she lived over and her apartment. When Ollie and Taryn left, I’d talked to Grant about keeping Violet safe, and he had been cool about installing a security system and dead bolt for the apartment. At that point, Violet was barely leaving the place, and I didn’t want some asshole who knew what she was going through to take advantage.
I’d gone from managing my sisters’ lives to managing Ollie’s to managing Violet’s. Maybe that’s just who I was.
I texted Vi again that I was going to stop at the liquor store for a bottle of wine for Grant and a six-pack for us to share. I’d been trained in her drinking habits, since I was an expert at dragging her drunk—but perfectly-curved—ass out of parties, so I knew a six pack would suffice.
On the way to the liquor store, I called my mother. She didn’t answer, so I left a message. “We have to talk about Amelia. Let’s make a united front.” My mother was one of those hippie-dippie parents who let my sisters walk all over her. She did the spoiling while I kept them from getting rotten. They were good kids, just fucking exhausting.
Women. I loved them, I did. They were complex and beautiful, but the emotions attached to their gender were infinite and mind-blowing. Maybe that was why I’d never pursued a real relationship. I had enough women to deal with in my life, and adding another one to the mix might put me over the edge. I liked having sex, but I wasn’t up for a commitment of any kind.
Until I met Violet. The friend-zoned ex-girlfriend of my best friend, who trusted me to take care of her and had no idea I’d stop the damn world if it meant a chance for us to be more.
By the time I got to her apartment about a half hour later, my mother still hadn’t called me back. She was probably out at a game party herself. It had also started to snow. I was tired of snow, so tired of it. I texted a picture of the dusting to Ollie.
Me: Help me shovel?
A few minutes later, he sent me a selfie of him and Taryn on the beach.
Ollie: Too busy tanning.
I replied with a picture of my middle finger. If he were here, I’d have dragged him with me to Grant’s party, and he’d have dragged Violet. And I would have stood there with them, being a third wheel. Now, without Ollie, did that make me second wheel?
I had no fucking idea.
My relationship with Vi had changed in the past month, that was for sure, and Violet needed me—like a brother. Still sometimes I thought about us together. I was only human, and I loved everything about the girl, even if I didn’t understand her sometimes. I loved the way she looked, especially her dark hair with all those curls. Sometimes we’d be talking and one of those curls would spring loose. She’d move her hand automatically to fix it, and I’d want to stop her and tell her not to.
Her talent was off the charts. People told me I was good at football, but I had to study, learn, and adapt. With Violet and the violin, it was like she was born with one in her hand. Watching her play was like watching someone else eat, or drink, or breathe. Completely natural.
I also thought it was cool that she was a classy city girl to my country jock self. We’d make a good pair and learn new shit from each other. Better than her and Ollie. They were too much alike and had too much history. With me, Violet could be whatever she wanted, and I’d love her just the same.
So sometimes I thought about it, and I knew what that made me—pathetic. To the world, I was the guy in control. The big brother with the bossy attitude. The best friend who made the plans and took care everyone. But with Violet, I was actually a pathetic, lovesick idiot.
I had no trouble getting laid. Even spent a night with Taryn. The four of us pretended that had never happened, which was fine with me, but since we’d all returned for senior year, I hadn’t hooked up with anyone. Still, I wondered if my past with her roommate, and a slew of other similarly-minded women, had made me look like a complete ass in Violet’s eyes. If it had, I couldn’t blame her.
I checked my phone as I parked in the alley and climbed the stairs to her apartment. Still no return text from Vi. I banged on the door. “Pix?”
Nothing. Maybe she forgot?
I was about to give up when I heard her tiny voice straining, calling my name. Following the sound, I walked back down the stairs to the alley. “Violet?”
“Josh!” I heard her again.
The wind whistled as the sun started setting in the winter sky. I peeked around the back of the apartment building, lifting my hood over my head to stay warm. “Vi?” I screamed, cl
osing my eyes to try to focus and listen better.
“Josh?”
When I reached the back of the building, I looked up and found Violet hanging out of a window.
“Oh thank God,” she said, her hair hanging down. She was leaning a little too far out of the window for my liking.
“Be careful. What are you doing up there? Let me in.”
“I can’t,” she yelled. “I’m stuck.”
Snow and sleet stung my cheeks as I mentally walked through the apartment. She was in Taryn’s room. “What do you mean you’re stuck?”
“I locked myself in here by accident and I don’t have my phone.”
For the love of sanity. “How the hell did you do that?”
Waving her hands, she yelled down. “It’s a long story. Can you get me out?”
I stomped my boots in the snow to warm up my feet. “Throw down a key.”
“You don’t have one?” She squeaked, like this was somehow my fault.
“Uh, nope.” I checked my phone. “The game starts in a half hour.”
She groaned. “Can you see if Mr. Johnson is in the store? Maybe he has a key.”
“Are you serious?” I knew she was. “Can’t you pick the lock?”
“Please, Josh,” she whined. “I’ve been stuck in here all day and I’ve tried everything. I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”
That was a lie. I shook my head and gave her a one-minute hand signal.
Sliding my way through the alley over the dusting of snow, which was quickly turning to ice, I made my way to the front of the building. Inside, Mr. Johnson was busy ringing up customers. The store had stocked a bunch of party items for the game, and everyone else in the world was on their way out to watch it.
With empty arms, I waited in line. When I got to the front, Mr. Johnson remembered me. “Oliver’s roommate, right? Grant told me he’s in San Diego. How is he?”
“He’s warm.” I laughed. Then I explained the situation with Violet and asked if he had a key.
“I don’t, but I do have a ladder. You can get Violet down that way and go to Grant’s for the party. I’m sure he has an extra key.”
Mr. Johnson pointed me to the storage room, and I found the ladder in the back of the store. Murmuring curses, I struggled to carry it solo through the aisles, trying not to knock down the displays. “Thanks,” I yelled to Mr. Johnson as I approached the front of the store again. “I’ll bring it back when we’re done.”
Dragging the damn ladder through the alley proved challenging, but the lovesick idiot had to save the damsel. I set it up against the building under Taryn’s room. The light glowed from inside as I climbed up, the smell of paint wafting down. “Juliet?”
She leaned out and almost head-butted me, gasping when she realized I was eye-to-eye with her. “Romeo!”
I held out my hand as I checked out her old sweats with fresh yellow paint stains. So damn cute. “Here to save you.”
She shook her head, furrowing her brow. “Nut-uh. I’m not getting on that thing.”
“What do you mean?” The warm air from Taryn’s room defrosted my cheeks, and I tried to peek around her. “Come on, it’s freezing. Let’s go.”
“Can’t you come in and bust me out?” She moved away from the window and pointed at Taryn’s door. “Look.”
Taryn’s bed was taken apart and in pieces around the room, and the mattress was jammed in the doorway, blocking it. “The fuck?”
Violet cringed. “I was trying to make a new start. You know, like you said. This is your fault.”
“You tried to move a queen-sized mattress out of here on your own?” That would be tough for anyone, but for Violet, barely five-feet tall and probably less than a hundred pounds, it would be a miracle.
“I was doing okay until I couldn’t make the turn…”
I huffed. “Listen. You’re a disaster and we’ll talk about that. But I’m cold, and the SuperGame starts in…” Balancing on the ladder, I took my phone from my pocket and checked the time, “…fifteen minutes, and I’d like to get someplace warm to watch it.” I took a step down the ladder.
She widened her big brown eyes. “You can’t leave me here.”
“I’m not leaving you. You’re going to get on the ladder and climb down with—”
“No way.” She took a step away from the window.
“What are you afraid of? I’m right here. It’s only two stories. Come on, Violet.”
She shook her head violently. “I…I hate ladders. Just come in here. We’ll watch the dumb game on your phone.”
Violet and I studied each other, me on the ladder in the freezing cold on SuperGame Sunday and her inside the warm room that had been turned into a demented Ikea.
I pointed to the doorway. “Can’t you squeeze around the mattress? There’s that curve right there. Maybe you can fit.”
“I tried. I can’t get through. Please, just come in.”
“Nope. It’s you down the ladder or I bolt solo.”
“What?” Her jaw dropped. “Now’s not the time for me overcoming my fears, Josh. Come on. I’m hungry, I need a shower, and I need my phone.”
“Then you’ll find a way out.” I started down the ladder. “I wouldn’t wait too long because the snow is accumulating, and the rungs will get slippery.”
“I can’t believe you right now,” she said, leaning out as I descended. “You’re the worst Romeo ever.”
I yelled upward as the distance between us grew. “I’m not missing the biggest game of the year because you shoved your roommate’s mattress in a doorway.”
She pointed down at me, her entire upper body leaning over the window frame. “Joshua King, if you don’t help me out of this room, I swear I’ll never speak to you again.”
“I don’t believe you,” I shouted as I reached the bottom rung.
“I hate you,” she screamed.
When I looked up and waved, she disappeared inside and slammed the window shut.
I couldn’t hold back a chuckle. Still, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere. I rubbed my hands together and exhaled, trying to decide where I should hide and hoping I didn’t die of hyperthermia. There I was, waiting on Vi again. Like I’d said a million times before, one way or another, Violet Nicholson was going to be the death of me.
Violet
“Romeo, ha!” I whispered to nobody as I slammed the window. I’d never forgive Josh for keeping me locked up here, in the room where Oliver and Taryn had... I couldn’t even think the thought. Josh could have saved me—he could have pushed the mattress, at least—if he weren’t such a pain in my butt and if that dumb game wasn’t about to start.
The sky grew dark as I studied the situation again. I didn’t know what I’d been thinking when I came up with the not-so-bright idea to renovate. Actually, I knew what I’d been thinking. I’d had the local hardware store deliver paint and made a big plan for redecorating. I’d wanted them out. All of them, and especially that bed.
That plan obviously hadn’t worked. None of my plans seem to work. I turned to put my back against the edge of the mattress, squeezed my eyes shut, and pushed with my legs, grunting. In my mind, it moved, maybe an inch. Then I tried to squeeze through the tiny space between the frame and the mattress again. Nothing.
A tap on the window startled me. Dumb Josh waved at me from the other side of the glass. I ignored him at first, until he tapped again and held up something—a six-pack.
With an exaggerated huff, I walked to the window and flung it open. “What?”
His perfect teeth chattered with the cold. “You’re really mad at me? You’re the one who managed to get stuck in the damn room.”
I glared and reached to shut the window again.
“Wait!” He held up the six-pack. “I was going to bring this to Grant but figured you could use it more than he could.”
I took it. “I still hate you.”
He put his hand under the sill to stop me from closing it. “No ‘thank you’?”
“All I have to say is that if I die in here, my blood is on your hands.” I lifted my chin in defiance, to shield against the warmth of his smirk.
He reached through the window and touched my arm. “Come on, Vi. Climb down with me. Mr. Johnson says Grant has a key. We’ll go get it together.” He gently tugged my arm toward him, indicating for me to join him on the scary ladder of death.
I stuck my head out to look down. The ground looked a mile away, far more than two stories. The snow was piling up, and the air was frigid. Still, Josh’s grin could melt the whole state.
“Let’s go. Enough of this shit.”
I took a step backward. “I can’t.”
“You can.” He said the two words without a trace of doubt. “I have your back. Always, okay? I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You can trust me.”
“I trust you,” I said, as his frozen fingers curled around my warm hand. “I just don’t trust myself.”
“I have faith.” He looked through the window at the mess behind me. “You can find your way out of this if you want it bad enough.”
I looked around the room, unsure what we were talking about. “I feel like every time I try to move on, I get stuck.”
When I met his gaze again, his face had softened. “That sucks,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you get to stop trying.”
I shook my head. “Just go, please. I’m fine.” I thought for sure he was bluffing about leaving and he’d hop in the room and stay with me.
He didn’t though. Instead, he let go of my hand. “I’ll leave the ladder. Call me from the store when you free yourself. You remember my number, right?”
He’d made me memorize it in case I wasn’t around my phone’s contacts and needed to reach him. As I nodded, he started to climb back down. A myriad of feelings overcame me—dread, amusement, fear. Mostly, I was surprised he was leaving. It wasn’t really his style.
When I lost track of him as he walked around the building, I closed the window again. Then I popped open a beer and stared at the bright yellow paint I’d ordered. Josh may have had faith that I could get myself out of this, but I wasn’t so sure. I chugged the beer, mostly because I was thirsty, and then mixed the paint with the ruler the hardware store had provided. May as well make use of the time.
Making the Move: Mill Street Series #2 Page 2
