“You’re going to hate me,” I mutter, peeking up at him for a second before studying my cuticles again.
His hand brushes over my back once more, a light, feathery touch. “I could never hate you.”
“You’re going to think I’m an idiot, then.”
“Wrong again. I would never think that.”
I glance up at the sincerity in his tone. His eyes wander over my face, his eyebrows knitting together as he tries to read the words I’m not saying. “Come on, Violet. Please.”
Normally, the soft rumble of my name on his lips would make me feel warm inside, but instead, guilt creeps up my throat, threatening to choke me. Somehow, I swallow it down.
“I ran into Christian,” I mumble. “At the club.”
That changes things. Landon’s entire body stiffens, his expression hardening as his mind runs through the many ways Christian could have fucked with me. “What the fuck did that shithead do?”
“He didn’t reallydoanything,” I’m quick to assure. “It was my fault. He took me to his VIP area, and when I tried to leave to go find the girls, he insisted on showing me the roof.” Landon goes still. I don’t even think he’s breathing. “And so, I followed him up there—”
“Alone?” he blurts.
“Yeah.”
“Violet,” he groans.
“But it was fine. I mean. Kind of. I shouldn’t even be upset.”
“Just tell me what happened,” he says, his voice sounding a little bit strained. “Please.”
“He just kept asking me to come to the party at his house and talking about how he’s not a bad guy, and I guess I could have left, but I’m not good at confrontation, and I knew that was where it was headed if I did leave…” I take a deep breath, looking back over at Landon. He’s still as a statue, tension lining his face, so I blurt it out in a rush. “He wouldn’t let me leave until I kissed him, so I let him.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I cringe, waiting for Landon’s response. He’s impossible to read on a normal day, but now…I couldn’t decipher his thoughts if my life depended on it. “Did he do anything else to you?” he asks finally.
My stomach twists, and I shake my head before dropping it into my hands. I release a hysterical laugh. “No. No, he didn’t. I don’t even know why I’m upset. Nothing happened. Ilet himkiss me. I didn’t even tell him no. It was just…easier to let him.”
Landon’s quiet. I don’t know if he’s trying to process what I told him or judging me for letting it happen. Probably a bit of both.
“Go ahead,” I say tiredly. “Say it.”
“Say what?”
“That I’m an idiot. That I have no self-respect. That I’m a pushover. A coward. A—
“Hey.” His hand runs up my back until he reaches my neck. His fingers close around it, gently kneading the muscles there. I feel my shoulders start to relax just a little. “Stop that.He cornered you, Violet. If you had felt you had a choice to say no, you would have.”
“I guess.”
“Why didn’t you tell me he was still harassing you? I would have taken care of it.” I don’t even have to answer. Just give him aremember what you said last timesort of look, and he gets it immediately. “Because I was a dick,” he mutters, filling in the blanks. His hand drops away from me then, and I instantly feel its loss. “I’m sorry for that.”
“It’s fine, Landon.”
“It’s not fine. You could have come to me. You should have come to me.” He blows out a frustrated breath, but I’m starting to think that his frustration isn’t directed at me. It’s directed at himself. “Look at me.” I meet his eyes, those dark irises of his brimming with some unknown emotion. I’m captivated by them. Hypnotized. I’d do anything he said at this point. “If this ever happens again, don’tevergo somewhere alone with that guy. You tell him to fuck off from the start when there are people around, okay? Don’t be afraid of the confrontation, and don’t try to be accommodating.”
“But that’s just how I am,” I tell him. “That’s how I’ve always been. The nice girl. The doormat. The people pleaser. I don’t know how to be anything else.”
Growing up, my mom had these…episodes. Depressive ones. My dad would take control of the situation and pass me off to Mel while he tried to help her, and I would do my best not to exacerbate the situation in any way. I have a vague memory of Mel telling me that if I wasn’t perfect and happy all the time, Mom would get sad again. If I didn’t behave and shape myself into the perfect child, it would upset her. If I didn’t stay out of everyone’s way, I might make things worse. So that’s what I did. I went to school without complaint, I kept my issues to myself, and I looked to Mel for guidance and insight into Mom’s mood. I tried my best to be unproblematic. I tried to be the light my family needed. And after Mom was gone, I still tried.
It didn’t matter that my dad couldn’t smile.
It didn’t matter that the girls turned on me and the boys used me.
