So there, in my dining room, in my messy college house with abandoned Solo cups and dropped snacks crunching under our feet, Violet closed her eyes and brought her lips to mine for the first time.
I was wrecked.
I loved kissing girls. I gave girls a good time. But nobody had ever made me feel as helpless as Violet Gennari did.
Her lips were as soft as her vanilla and pear perfume, but what struck me the most was how intensely focused the kiss was. Sweet. Locked in.
I was fucking smitten.
I licked at the seam of her lips, and a husky giggle buzzed into my mouth as she opened to me. Delicate slides of her tongue, taking her time like we had nowhere to be, nothing to do, no one to please.
I groaned into her mouth, taken by her vulnerability after she started the night spooked over something.
Her voice was raspy when I finally plopped her back onto her feet. “I should get going.”
It was like someone did a tablecloth trick, but they sucked at it and all the dishes and glasses spilled all over the place. “What? No! It’s late!”
“I don’t think a sleepover is the best idea,” she said with a pat to my chest. A pat like she gave me when we first met. A pat that ignored everything we’d shared over the last two hours, put distance between us, put her wall back up.
“No, I won’t try anything. It’s just late. I don’t want you walking through campus alone.”
She scrunched her nose. “I’ll make it. Thanks, though—babe.”
“Please,” I begged. “Let me walk you.”
She shook her head with a smirk. “You’re not staying in my bed either, Colton. It was fun playing around, but I don’t do much more than kissing.”
We exchanged a look. A Look, capitalized. A Look that was a revolving door, waiting for me to make the right move so I could catch the opening.
I needed her to feel what I was saying, try to make her believe. I tucked a strand of her shiny brown hair behind her ear. “I have excellent news.”
“Oh yeah?” she challenged me.
I put my lips next to her ear. “I really love kissing.”
ONE
VIOLET
THREE YEARS AGO | WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS, WEST VIRGINIA
A relaxing spaday at a gorgeous mountain resort couldn’t save me from the rock that kept swan-diving into my stomach.
I wore the requisite fluffy robe and spa sandals. I had a gorgeous mountain view out the window. I had a glass of champagne in one hand. A very nice lady sat at my side, given the near-impossible task of turning my short stubs of nails into something dainty and glamorous.
Friends of the bride surrounded me, along with the bride herself: my college roommate and bestie, Kitty.
“Don’t forget that your dresses are peach, ladies!” she sang. “Plan the nails accordingly.”
“I don’t think we could forget,” another bridesmaid, Tania, said. “You only emphasized peach four hundred times while we were picking our dresses.”
“But you’ll all look so beautiful in them,” Kitty tried, putting on the winning smile that landed her plenty of TV gigs.
“Save your flattery,” I laughed, then shivered. “I’m here even though you’re making me see Colton again.”
Kitty puffed out her lip. “Aw, come on, Vi. He’s grown up a lot. This could be your magical reunion.”
“Doubtful,” I scoffed. “He was only ever good in the sheets.”
