After reading off the address to the operator, she tells me an ambulance is on its way, and I hang up. It’s a shit move, leaving her on her own, but I can’t stay. I need to get Violet back to Spring Meadows so she isn’t here when they show up.
When I leave through the front door, I let it hang open for the emergency personnel who should be here in a matter of minutes. If I can’t make sure Mom doesn’t lose consciousness, then they will.
I’m only one goddamn person.
One.
And it feels like I’ve been through the wringer, like I haven’t been able to catch my breath for long before it’s stolen away again. Now, more than ever, I get why Aunt Bess distances herself. To preserve her own wellness and sanity because addiction sucks the life out of a person. Its victim and every person who’s around.
But it’s more than that.
It’s the comment that came out of Mom’s mouth a little while ago—the one about my father who she’s claimed she hasn’t known for my entire life.
If he bailed and hasn’t been around, then how the hell would she know how similar I could be to the deadbeat?
How would she have been able to compare us?
The lotback at Spring Meadows is fairly empty since most of the tenants are college students and they’re gone for the holiday. I pull into a spot near the entrance, shift the car in park, and shutoff the ignition. When Violet pulls her overnight bag from the floor to her lap, I take the strap and lift it over the console. “I’ll carry it up for you.”
I’m not looking forward to walking her up to her apartment. This girl has wormed her way into my life, and I’ve allowed it, but now I’m wondering if maybe I shouldn’t have.
Was I naïve to think I could have a friend like her? That we could make it without our friendship getting complicated? Since the moment I laid eyes on her in that bathroom, I thought she was beautiful as hell. Then I got to know her, and it made me want her in ways I shouldn’t.
The walk up to her floor is quiet, the silence like a noose around my neck. If we were strictly friends, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but I think we both know that something more is happening between us.
She stops beside me when we reach her door, and I place her bag on the floor by her feet, shoving my fists into my pockets. I don’t trust myself. Her eyes, the color of cocoa, draw me in when she looks up. It’d be so easy to close in on her, to draw her body to mine, and kiss the hell out of her. Thinking of her lips on other parts of me—namely my thickening cock—has me wanting to say fuck everything but her.
Her voice, quiet and reserved, pulls me out of my thoughts as she says, “Thanks for walking me up.”
“No problem.”
Tension bounces from her chest to mine.
Son of a bitch.
My heart pounds in my chest, going as far as vibrating in my ears. I can’t help but think if I walk away now, it’ll be the biggest mistake of my life.
“I guess this is it then,” she utters.
It’s hard to decipher if it comes out as a question or statement, but what does it matter when she’s looking at me like she doesn’t want me to walk away?
She combs a hand through her hair, and damn it, I want to reach out and touch her, curl my fingers in those locks and tug her into my chest. The urge to close this space between us is real. So real it hurts. So real that it only magnifies the thumping in my ears.
“Our friendship doesn’t have to interfere with what you have going on personally.” I should have known she wasn’t going to let me leave without adding more. “Isn’t that how this started, anyway?”
Our friendship.
If I could look at her without drinking her in like a tall glass of water, maybe I’d agree with that statement. But that’s not what we have. Two times now, our mouths have been fused together, and damn it, I want it to happen again. Her tongue in my mouth. My fingertips tickling her hot skin. My head between her thighs, my tongue driving into her sweet, tight pussy.
“Is that what this is?” I reach to wrap my pinky around hers.
“I don’t care what we are as long as we get to keep what we have.”
Little liar.
Her eyes tell me differently.
“Don’t say shit like that to me.” It comes out cold. Maybe I’m acting a little more callous than usual, but my patience is gone, my need to hear the truth overriding the mind games and self control.
