“That sucks man, I’m sorry,” I say, not knowing anything comforting to say. I think half the reason I was able to give easy advice to my friends before was because I didn’t truly understand what it was like to be on the wrong side of a relationship with someone you really cared about. It’s easy to be objective and level headed when you’re not the one hurting.
“Yeah. How’s things with your girl? I assume not great given that you look like this.”
“Also over.”
“She cheat too?”
“No. Just didn’t want the same things.”
“Yeah, that’ll do it in pretty quick.”
I nod.
“I wish there was a way I could forget she even exists to be honest. I still miss her, even though I don’t ever want to see her again.”
“Yeah.” I nod, because fuck if it isn’t relatable.
I can’t say that I never want to see Violet again. I know someday when this finally stops hurting and I have perspective again, I’ll want to see her. Hopefully we can even be friends again, or at least get along at family events. But for now, I just wish I could have temporary amnesia. Forget the way she looked at me, the way she felt, the way she tasted. Everything about her fucking haunts me.
One of the worst parts about it being that the curse has extended beyond brunettes now to all women. I can’t even picture hooking up with someone else because when I so much as think it, Violet’s there in my head. Her sweet smile as she quizzes me on history wearing a galaxy bikini top. Teasing me about my weakness for seeing her in my jersey. Cooking dinner together in the kitchen. Tickling her mercilessly until she surrenders. Spread out in front of me saying my name.
Sometimes I think she’s actually broken me, because in the darkest moments in the night, when I can’t sleep, and I wonder if she’s still awake in her bed, I hope that I’ve at least ruined her the same way.
THIRTY-ONE
Violet
As I stand outsidethe frat house post-game a couple of days later with Joss, I suddenly just want to run back to the car and drive off.
“No,” Joss says loudly.
“What?”
“You’re thinking about chickening out, and the answer is no. It’s too late. You got the tattoo. You stalked social media to find out where he would be tonight. You dragged me to a college party at what appears to be a frat house. You’re committed. No backing out.”
“This is going to be humiliating if it goes badly.”
“Too fucking bad.” Joss gives me a steely eyed look, and I know she’s not gonna let me back down. Which is why she was here with me.
I take a deep breath. She was right. I wanted Ben back; this was the only way I could imagine proving to him that I meant it.
“All right. Let’s do this.”
When we get inside though, I immediately regret my appearance. So many of the women are dressed to kill in here. Even Joss is in a leather skirt and corseted top that makes her look like a knockout, and I’m standing here next to her still wearing the black jeans and jersey I wore to the game.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time, to wear the jersey with his name on it. I thought it would help make my point given his feelings on it, but now I just feel frumpy and out of place.
As we start walking in, I can already see a few eyes on us, wondering at how we belong in this particular scenario. And the truth is, we don’t at all.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t just do this on my own,” I whisper to Joss as I see her grimace and shake her head at the entire scene.
“You can do it Violet. Go get your man.” She nods to the other side of the living room. The farthest point from us that’s still in the room where Ben is sitting with a group of guys I recognize from the team, flanked by women who all clearly want their attention.
I take a step to the side to get a better look at him and note there’s a gorgeous blonde at his side. She’s dressed in an outfit even sexier than Joss’s and his left arm is wrapped around her resting on her hip. They look beautiful together. Perfect even. A match that makes sense. I want to be sick, but I can’t stop staring at them. I glance back at the door again.
“Nope. You’re doing this. Barbie has been there for what, all of ten minutes—maybe a few hours if we’re stretching it? And he’s wanted you for years. Get him.”
I take a breath. She’s right. However this turns out, even if he laughs me out of the place. I owe him this. He put himself out there for me over and over, and even if all this does is give him a chance to reject me, it’s fair enough.
