After I had everything set up, I rolled the paint over the walls. I’d chosen the color, named “Sunny Daze” to see if it could change the vibe of the room for me. The yellow was so pretty and bright that maybe it would succeed.
An hour later, after I’d finished half the room, I cleaned up and chugged my fourth beer. I was tipsy-on-the-way-to-drunk, hungry-on-the-way-to-hangry, and my sweats were smudged with yellow marks. But I also felt a little proud as I looked over the half-finished walls. Maybe I hadn’t gone down the dumb ladder, but at least I was doing something.
My stomach growled as I thought of the food at Grant’s. Josh would be there, hobnobbing with the grad students. He’d probably told Rachel I wasn’t coming, the big jerk.
I could show him that I was stronger than he thought. That I didn’t need him as much as he seemed to think, or as much as I seemed to think. I peeked at the ladder again. Maybe, if I went slow, I could manage to get to the store. I didn’t have a coat—and I was wearing my slippers and reindeer socks—but the beer made me not care.
Since it was dark outside, I left the light on in the room so I’d be able to see. I flung a leg over and balanced on the top platform part of the contraption. Gripping the windowsill for dear life, I crawled out so that I was standing on the ladder.
Careful not to look down, I held the sides of the scary ladder of death, as my heart pounded. Ironically, the alcohol made me brave, but it also made me more unsteady than I’d have been if I’d attempted the feat three beers ago.
One by one, I took the rungs, counting off in my head. When I got to “eight,” I looked down. The ground was close enough that if I fell, I was fairly certain I wouldn’t die.
I continued my descent, confident that I’d live to feel the earth under my feet again. When I was about to jump to the solid, snow-covered ground, big hands grabbed my waist.
I twisted to find Josh, red-cheeked, the moonlight reflecting in his bright eyes. He guided me down the rest of the way, and when my feet hit the snow, I jumped into his arms. He lifted me off the ground.
“I did it,” I whispered, as he swung me from side to side, my legs flopping back and forth.
“You did,” he whispered back. “I knew you could. Put your legs around me,” he said. “I’ll carry you so your feet don’t get too wet.”
I did as he said. He moved one hand under my butt and, with his free hand, pulled off his cap. Together, with one hand each, we put it over my head.
“Thanks,” I said, suddenly warmer than I’d been inside. His usually short hair was growing out, and I wiped the snow out of it. “What are you doing out here? You’re freezing.”
He arched an eyebrow and hoisted me higher up his waist. “Did you really think I’d leave you?”
When I inhaled his outdoorsy scent, I was happy for the darkness, so that he couldn’t see my blush. My thighs grasped him around his torso, which was hard like a wall. His body… No wonder he had no trouble finding women. Who wouldn’t want to get their hands on him? It’d been so long since my legs were wrapped around a man. “What about your game?”
He shrugged. “It’s just a game. Watching you climb down that ladder was way more entertaining.”
“Why do you always take care of me?” I asked quietly, half hoping he wouldn’t hear.
“It’s just what I do,” he whispered. “Now where to, Pix?”
I wrapped my arms around him tighter. “Don’t we have a party to go to?”
He pulled away to look me in the eye. “Yeah? You sure?”
“Why not?” I asked, as he carried me to his truck. I regretted when he opened the passenger door and placed me on the seat. I missed his warmth immediately. “You with me?”
“Always,” he answered as he shut the door.
Chapter Three
Josh
I barely saw Violet at Grant’s party. I did hear when Rachel showed up, even later than we did, and groaned in disgust at Violet’s outfit. On instinct, I walked to Violet and stood next to her as Rachel, her red hair perfectly straight like her runway model body, looked her up and down. “I know you haven’t been doing great since Oliver and she-who-shall-not-be-named left, but what is this?” She pointed at Vi’s body. “Are you homeless now?”
Violet looked at herself. “You don’t like the bunny slippers?”
I scowled at Rachel. “I think she looks cute.” Violet hadn’t caught the smear of paint over her earlobe, or the yellow handprint on her ass, and I wasn’t going to be the one to tell her about them. They only added to the look.
Rachel stole Violet away, and I spent the rest of the party chatting up Grant and his friends. Still, I kept an eye on Vi. Once in a while, she’d meet my gaze and smile, and my lovesick heart would do a flip.
I knew she’d be able to get out of the apartment. Between seeing her climb out of that window, and then holding her up by the ass as she straddled me, I’d officially become crushed by my crush.
It wasn’t until we were back on Mill Street, pulling into her alley, that I realized we’d never gotten the extra key from Grant. “I’m sorry. I completely forgot.”
She sputtered out a laugh. We’d made it to the party by halftime, and during the second half, she’d worked her way through at least three more beers. She’d been on her best behavior, mostly joking with people about her outfit.
“No more ladder,” she barked. Then she hiccupped.
“Oh Christ, Vi, now the hiccups?” I knew from past experience they’d last at least an hour.
“I can’t…hup…help it.”
To me, her hiccups were adorable. Like little gasps of musical notes. I acted annoyed anyway. “I know, but they’re obnoxious.”
“You’re…hup…telling me.”
She tapped my phone. “I don’t think I’ll make it up the ladder…hup. Can’t sleep in that room anyway. I’ll stay with Rachel when she gets back. Drive me back to your place?” Rachel lived down the hall from Ollie and me in the on-campus housing units. She’d been busy chatting up Grant when Vi and I had left, and he’d offered to give her a ride back later.
“Alright. No more ladder.” I pulled out of the alley, barely missing a group of football fans cheering and walking down Mill Street.
Vi and I listened to music on the short ride from her apartment to mine. She looked sleepy and kind of messy. Every once in a while, her chest would heave with a hiccup. She was usually so perfectly together that a messier Vi added another layer to her that made me want to peel her apart and discover everything underneath. Undress her and put her in the shower…join her...
She hiccupped again, pulling me from my fantasy. “Stop, Vi.” When she didn’t answer, I glanced at her in the passenger seat.
She was staring at me, squinting.
“What’s wrong, Pix?”
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” Hiccup.
Jesus. This conversation always made me uncomfortable, whether it was with my mom, my sisters, or Ollie. But especially with Vi. “Because I don’t want one.”
“Why not?”
Glancing at her, I wondered how she couldn’t know how I felt about her. “You’re drunk, and I don’t feel like talking about this.”
“Just tell me, Hunka—”
“Don’t say it,” I warned. That nickname was killing me slowly. Stupid January. Even September’s “Steamy Seniors” month would have been better. “Hunkarama” was the dumbest word in the English language, if it even was a word.
“Then answer.” Her eyes twinkled in the darkness of the truck.
As I gripped the steering wheel, I had to stop my fingers from twitching and tapping—my nervous tic. “Why? You interested?” I tried to make my tone light, like I was teasing.
“Ha! Yeah, right,” she sputtered between hiccups.
Well then.
She reached across the seats and pushed my shoulder. “I’m curious. You seem to have no problems finding women to…date…but you… hup…never take anyone out more than once. I can’t figur
e you out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out. I’m a manwhore.” It was easier to lie than to tell her she was the only one I wanted.
She tsked and shook her head. “No, that’s not it. You like women. You have all your sisters. And me, of course—”
“—of course,” I repeated under my breath.
“—but there has to be someone out there you like more than a friend.” When I didn’t respond, she hiccupped and pinched my arm. “Who is…hup…she?”
I grimaced. “Who?”
“The one. The one you’re pining away for.”
“You need a Motrin and some sleep,” I told her. But I couldn’t help tapping my fingers on the wheel.
Vi gasped when she saw my tapping and put her hand over mine to stop it. “Who?”
I took a deep breath as I pulled into the apartment parking lot. Shifting into park, I dashed out of the truck, my boots landing in about six inches of snow. I walked around to Violet’s side and opened the door. Turning away from her, I backed up to the passenger seat so I could give her a lift. “Hop on, Pix.”
“If you’re not ready to tell me, then fine.” She wrapped her legs around my waist and rested her chin on my shoulder. “Whoever she is,” Vi said softly, “make sure she doesn’t take you away from me, okay?”
Violet was so light that she barely registered on my back, but her breath on my neck made me dizzy and forced me to close my eyes and take a moment. “No worries,” I answered when I opened them again and began stomping my way toward Campus Apartments. “Can’t separate a superhero and a sidekick. Not possible.”
As I held her under her thighs, I took the opportunity to squeeze them a little, wondering what it would feel like to have her wrapped around me, naked. “Damn,” I whispered, as her chest pressed against my back with another hiccup. I both loved and hated these thoughts about Vi, so I thought about football, hoping my body would relax and turn off.
Inside the building, my phone dinged as Violet slid down my body, her feet hitting the floor. I pulled it from my pocket and read the message. “Rachel’s staying at Grant’s. Should we go back and get her?”
Vi took the phone and tapped out a reply. “I’ll ask.”
As we walked into the apartment, the phone dinged again. Violet checked it. “She says she wants to…hup…stay. Grant will drive her back tomorrow. Do you mind if I go call her?”
I didn’t like Rachel’s plan and hated myself for leaving her there in the first place. My mind had been on Violet, but I should have kept closer watch over Rachel too. I took the phone and shot off a text to Grant for confirmation, then gave it back to Vi. “Go ahead. Make sure she’s okay and Grant is coherent. If she wants to come home, I’ll go back and get her. I can get the key from Grant too and take you home.”
“I don’t want you out in the snow.” She held up the phone. “I’ll call and get a better…hup…feel for it.”
“Okay, hiccup girl.” In the kitchen, I handed her a water bottle.
Violet took it with a smile and walked to Ollie’s room, as if she were on autopilot, then suddenly stopped and turned to me. “Can I use your room?” Her voice shook as she asked.
“Of course.”
She walked from his room to mine, my phone to her ear. As she opened the door to my bedroom, I heard her say, “Hey Rach, it’s me.” Then she closed the door behind her.
Having Violet in the apartment was natural. She and Ollie had been dating from the first day I met them at Sheridan Hall, three years earlier. Since sophomore year, Ollie and I had lived here in Campus Apartments, so the place was just as much Vi’s as it was ours. I was used to her being everywhere, except for my room. In fact, I wasn’t sure if she had ever been in my room.
I did a mental inventory of my stuff, wondering if she would see something I didn’t want her to. Not that I had five hundred pictures of her up on the wall or anything, but there were a couple of mementos that she may have recognized from times that she, Ollie, and I had shared over our college years.
In an effort to get my mind off of Vi, I grabbed a bowl and opened the cabinets. I scanned my cereal boxes, pulled out the closest box, and dumped myself a bowl. Tapping my fingers on the counter, I waited for Vi as I brewed a cup of coffee, thinking maybe she’d want one too.
How many times had we sat in that kitchen—me eating cereal, her drinking coffee—as she waited for Ollie to wake up, shower, finish studying, whatever? Now I felt like an awkward kid, not sure of what I should do or say.
After a few minutes, she still didn’t come out. I walked to my door and placed my ear against it. I didn’t hear her talking. I tapped the door lightly, then cracked it open an inch.
“Pix?”
She was sitting on my bed, holding one of my two framed photos. It wasn’t the one of me, her, and Ollie though. It was the one of me, my sisters, my mom, and my grandmother from my high school graduation.
Turning to me, she held it up. “You’re all so gorgeous.”
I shrugged, feeling my cheeks heat like the pathetic idiot I was around her. “My sisters got all the good looks.” Taking the few steps to the bed, I sat next to her and pointed to the frame. Our shoulders touched, and my breath hitched. We were so close, and heat radiated off of her.
She was sitting on my bed next to me, in my space, and it was weird and perfect.
Looking at the photo calmed me down, as my focus shifted to my family. “That’s Amelia. Don’t get me started; we’re having issues.” Then I pointed to Millie and Sierra in turn. “The twins are Millicent and Sierra. They’re sophomores. Millie’s going to the prom with some douchebag senior. I’m making her text me pictures of the prom dresses she’s considering so I can keep her modest.”
Violet laughed. “Good luck.”
“Yeah,” I scoffed. “Sierra’s the polar opposite of Millie. She’s the worst behaved one—restless or something. My mother has the patience of a saint, but Sierra gets under her skin like a pro.”
Violet’s eyes scanned the photo. “How do you get along with them?”
“The girls have a healthy respect for me, I’d like to think. Mom and I co-parent, which is odd, I know. She sort of gives them all the girly-feely stuff—”
“Girly-feely stuff?” Violet laughed. “That sounds wonderful—”
“—and I give them the more real-life, toughen them up lectures.”
“Oh, so they hate you?”
“Pretty much.” I chuckled and pointed to my last sister. “Not that one though. She loves me most.”
“What’s her name?” Violet asked, taking the picture from me to study it closer.
“That’s the baby. Charlamagne. We call her Charlie. I was twelve when she was born, right before my dad died. She latched onto me and never let go. She was six when I came to college and ran away to follow me. Actually tried to hop a train to Florida. Thank God people noticed and called the cops.” I grinned at the picture of Charlie, my heart full like she was my kid instead of my sister.
Violet furrowed her brow. “You must have been a mess until they found her. Why Florida?”
“She thought it would take her to me. She had no idea how to get to Jersey. Anyway, it was the worst two hours of my life, and I felt guilty for leaving…nervous that my mom couldn’t handle the girls without me.”
Violet turned her head and her gaze met mine. “I can imagine. Did you ever think about going back?”
The little flecks of gold in her eyes teased me, and I struggled to remember her question. “Oh, um, I thought about going back every day, especially during freshman year. Ollie always talked me through it, but I still worry about them.”
She nodded. “Ollie’s a good guy.”
“The best.”
We both looked back down at the photo.
“Sometimes I forget that you miss him too,” she said quietly.
I let out a long exhale. “Well, yeah. But I’m happy he’s living his life. Even if it’s without me.”
“I want to
feel like that too for him. I’m just not there yet. I hope I can get there someday.”
“He’s been a part of your life since forever. It will take time to adjust.”
Her eyes watered. It shattered me to see her in pain. I’d tried so hard to keep them together, to keep Ollie away from Taryn, because I knew it would hurt Violet. I loved her, and I didn’t want her to feel that kind of heartbreak. But Ollie and Taryn were meant for each other, which meant Violet had to suffer. In the end, I could see that this was the best thing for Violet. I only hoped she’d see it too, someday.
I put my arm around her narrow frame. “You’re doing great, Vi.”
She rested her head on my shoulder. “Because of you,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. We’ll always be friends, right?”
I grinded my teeth, hating that I wanted so much more from her that I’d never be able to get but relieved that she needed me in her life.
“Promise,” I muttered. “Friends.”
Violet
I woke up alone with only a slight headache, and it took me a second to figure out where I was. Josh’s bed was like heaven—so much nicer than Oliver’s. He had a memory foam mattress, and it was a full, not a single like Ollie’s. The sheets were warm, flannel, and smelled like fabric softener. The down feathers of his comforter and pillow cradled me. A humidifier hummed in the corner and moistened the dry university-managed heat, and he’d even put room darkening blinds over his window.
I could have stayed in that room forever.
Rolling over, I looked for my phone and remembered I didn’t have it. “Josh?” I yelled.
In two seconds, he pushed the door open, his body blocking the entire doorway. He held a bowl and offered me a smile. “Morning, Pix.” His spoon clinked against the cereal bowl as he leaned against the frame, looking like the cover of a fitness magazine.
Making the Move: Mill Street Series #2 Page 3
