SEVEN
Violet
I gape at the calendar thinking about how fast time has gone. It’s already the first week of August and school is about to start again. Other than checking on Pierre, I haven’t been at Vista much, haven’t run into anyone. I’ve thought about Cullen, though. I’ve thought about catching practice or going to the scrimmage game last Friday but I just couldn’t get myself to walk out the door. I don’t want to be seen as the bored widow or look like a stalker, so I just fantasize and play out scenarios in my head. Oh, and sneak peeks at the practice field when I’m feeding Pierre.
I’m relieved that I sold the house so early this summer, broken porch and all, a week after putting it up for sale. My townhouse is perfect; it’s safe and it’s mine. The furniture is what I want. My clothes are where I want. The kitchen is how I want.
Walking into the sized-just-right living room from my kitchen, I pause at the framed photos along the wall of the staircase. I smile back at the captured scenes of my family, my sister cuddling a drooling Hollyn, and Renee and I wearing cowboy hats at a concert for her birthday. All of these pictures are from new moments this summer, shared with the people that actually love me.
A small sigh of contentment escapes because I’ve gotten a little stronger. I’m good at shutting down the upsetting thoughts that haunt me every now and then; memories hardly ever last anymore. Every once in a while, I get a piece of mail with Anden’s name on it and I go back to a time when he was breathing down my neck. But mostly, I’m able to block out history.
Today, I need to go into school and start working in my room. I have new ideas for start-up investigations and research that I’d like to get moving on.
I decide a shower is in order, and after cleaning up, tossing on some shorts and a modest tank top, I’m ready to go.
Twenty minutes and some light traffic later, our giant high school stands in front of me. There’s a sign on the door that says to use the gym entrance and something about new wax on the floor. It’s a nice day, although a little hot, so I just go ahead and walk around the building to the door the custodial staff wants me to use. Deep voices yelling and grunting get my attention, and I look toward the noise. Ah, yes, football practice. On the football field. Right by the gym entrance. I adjust my sunglasses and pick up the pace. It’s one thing to drive by or peek out the upstairs window. It’s a completely different story to have to physically walk by the players…and the coaching staff. I’m not really avoiding our offensive coordinator, I tell myself; I just don’t know what to do with him right now.
A shrill whistle blows for about five seconds and then I hear a bunch of guys talking. I have a little bit of sidewalk left, then, “Violet! Wait up!”
Deep breath. I turn to see Cullen jogging up to the fence off the sideline.
“Hey, Cullen, what’s up?” I slide my sunglasses up to my head and smile. My heart kicks up a notch and sweat beads up between my shoulder blades ready to make its descent down into my shorts.
It’s just muggy out, I tell myself.
“Oh, just practice. Our first regular season game is Friday. It’s good to see you; it’s been a long time. Are you good? I was hoping you’d come to our scrimmage the other day.”
He has a whistle on a lanyard around his neck and I want to tug on it to see how close he’ll let me pull him. I put my hands behind my back instead.
“I’m sorry I missed it; I’m good though. All settled in my new place. I love it; it’s happy.”
I think, maybe, I shouldn’t have said this because Cullen frowns a bit. His forehead crinkles in thought and he squints his eyes a little. I shift from foot to foot and start staring at the ground.
“Good,” he finally acknowledges, “I’m glad. It’s as it should be then.”
That makes me look up again. I put my hands on the fence a safe distance from the whistle. Cullen matches my stare but then glances down and covers my left hand with his. I marvel at how it swallows mine up with its size and heat. Brown eyes meet brown eyes once more.
“Violet, if…”
“Hey, Coach! There’s a problem with this tight end over here!” All the boys start laughing in hysterics and slapping the shoulders of their teammates. We pull our hands away and Cullen coughs.
“I guess I gotta go make them do laps or something. Clearly they didn’t work hard enough,” he rolls his eyes and grins.
“Apparently not. Hmm, you must be slackin’, Coach,” I wink. “I’ll catch ya later, then. I need to get some work done anyway.”
“Maybe I’ll see you at Friday’s game?”
“Yeah, maybe.” I wave and turn to go.
He counters, “Are you going to be here late?”
“I don’t know, why?”
“Well, don’t walk out by yourself if it’s dark. Get a custodian or something if no one else is here, ok? You parked where? Out front?”
“Yeah, I’m around the building. I’ll walk with someone.”
He starts backing up towards the field. “Promise?” he asks, smiling. Damn that grin and those full lips.
“Yeah, I promise.”
“Maybe you should text me, see if I’m still around,” he pulls out his phone. “What’s your number?”
I cross my arms, “You already have it, Metz. You’re my department contact, remember?” I pull my sunglasses down just as my phone dings. I pull it from my pocket to find a winking emoji from Cullen.
“Guess I do!” He laughs so that his whole body shakes, then turns and jogs back to his team. They’re giving him shit, I can tell by the slaps, cheers, and whistles.
I just roll my eyes and shake my head. With a lighter step, I aim for the gym doors.
Cullen
Damn if I didn’t know she was flip-flopping on my stretch of sidewalk before I could even see her. Like a fly to a candied apple, I blew my whistle and let the boys have a break just so I could see for myself if the tight little body visible through the slits in the bleachers was actually Violet.
I practically shoved past the prospective D-line and stopped dead in my tracks. Long legs disappeared into little blue shorts on their way into the school’s gym entrance and then there was that goddamn ponytail swinging back and forth. I wanted to tug on it and see if she would gasp…
“See something you like, Coach?”
“Yeah, Coach, go talk to her.”
“Shut up, you two, or you’re gonna run ladders till you puke,” I rumbled out over my shoulder. I already knew it was Keegan and Jarrod, the two biggest boneheads in practice.
“Come on, Coach,” Keegan whined. “She’s single now.”
I whipped around, almost forgetting he was seventeen, and shoved my finger in his helmet. I had nothing to back it up with though, so I flicked the snap free on his chinstrap. The two little clowns high fived each other and went back to the cooler.
Feeling like an idiot, I started jogging and called, “Violet! Wait up!”
I wanted to ask her to our game, I wanted to ask her to have dinner, I wanted… Holy. Fuck. She was smiling at me.
All that’s in the very near past, however, as I make my way into the building and start up the stairs. I’ve got it in my head that although Violet promised to text or let someone walk her out when she’s ready to leave, she’s not actually going to do it. I would literally kick myself stupid if anything happened to her, so here I am, heading in for a rescue… or, at least, to attempt one.
Fortunately for Violet, I’m coming in fresh and showered from practice so she won’t be leaving with a mass of swamp ass. Of course, that’s assuming she’ll let me walk her out of here. Wait a minute. What if she tells me no?
I stop just before the stairs and put my forehead on the wall to get a grip and think this over. What was it my dad told me? Half the time we screw up is by telling women what to do. But I’m not telling her to leave. I’m just letting her know I’m here when she’s ready.
I wipe my sweaty hands on my shorts. I don’t ever have this problem with women. Why does Violet get me so wound up?
I think about when I placed my hand over hers on the fence earlier and how hers just melted into mine. I close my eyes at that familiar bite behind my sternum and wait for it to ease up.
Pushing off the wall, I start up the stairs that will lead right to Violet’s room. Enough of this horseshit, I gotta move. I know she’s still here because I checked—like the psychotic stalker I am—for her eco-friendly SUV out front. If all goes well, I’ll hang out until she’s ready to go and walk her safely to her car. If it doesn’t go well, I’ll leave by myself and sit in the shadows to make sure she drives off ok on her own. Nothing creepy about that at all.
Violet
I’m standing on top of one of my lab tables at the back of the room hanging up some new posters to help organize a STEM project for Bio2 when I hear shoes squeaking on the stairs. Since it’s the only sound besides the stapler, I can tell that whomever owns the shoes is getting closer to my room. I’m facing the door with the stapler digging into my hand, ready to lay into someone creepy enough to try to scare me, but it’s Cullen who stands in the doorway instead of a masked murderer.
I visibly relax, but my insides feel like sizzling powder kegs. He’s showered, probably in the locker room, and has a grey, dry-fit t-shirt pulled tight across his chest and arms. I can see all of his major muscle groups from this distance and would bet on the minor ones, too, if I could get him closer. He looks like dinner and I’m ravenous.
“Checking up on me, Metz?” I ask playfully. He smiles just a little and I swear the air crackles.
“I can stay till you’re ready to leave,” his eyes are on mine, but his voice trails off. He looks like he’s got more to say, but then he begins to move—more like glide—across my room, weaving between tables but never losing focus on me. All words are lost as he silently stalks towards me like a tiger. My heart speeds up with every step closer.
“Oh shit,” I let out quietly on an exhale.
He’s at the edge of the table I’m standing on, head tilted back, exposing his throat and the muscles of his neck. He’s tense; I can tell by the ropy tendons popping out of his skin. Still watching me, he reaches up, releases the stapler from my hand, and puts it on the table with a slight thud. I don’t even feel the metal go missing; all I know is the heat coming off Cullen’s skin and the vibration of his trembling hands.
He tugs gently on my wrists and I take it as an invitation to come down off the table. Cullen doesn’t move, though, so I sit in front of him, my legs on either side of his bulky thighs. He lets my hands go and places his fingertips lightly on either side of my neck, right under my ears. I’d bet my new Jimmy Choo’s that he can feel the chaotic throbbing of my pulse there. I’m tingling with this new, gentle sensation of a man’s hands on me and my temperature has gone up at least a hundred degrees. I feel like I could slide off the table into a puddle of molten liquid.
“Violet,” he whispers.
“Just kiss me, Cullen.”
“Are you sure? I can’t go back once I do,” his eyes search my face. “I can go slow, but I can’t go back.”
“No, Cullen, there’s no going back.”
My words hold so much more meaning than I think Cullen realizes, but we don’t have time to think about it because his hands move into my hair and he brings his lips to mine. There’s just a breath between us, a tiny pause. I lightly wet my bottom lip and tilt my chin up farther.
Small fires ignite in my chest when his full lips brush over mine. It’s a light sweep at first, then he comes back for another sample, pressing a little harder, barely touching his tongue to my lip. His neatly trimmed beard is softer against my skin than I imagined, and I get little tingles deep in my belly at the thought of how it would feel trailing elsewhere.
I grip the table until I feel like my fingernails might snap, and then I reach up to his sides and drag my hands along his obliques. Goddamn, the man is tight and fit; I have to feel his skin before I combust. My hands wander up his shirt to the small of his back and my fingertips trace the muscles I find there. He shivers and pulls back, but only for a second. Leaning back in, Cullen gently tugs on my hair and I gasp just a little, but it’s enough to part my lips and let him in to taste. His tongue is warm and sweet. I whimper and Cullen lets out a low growl. He places one more kiss on my slightly swollen mouth before releasing me.
I can’t do anything but smile at him. I have to look like the biggest idiot, but he smiles right back and takes my hands.
“Are you ready to go?” he asks. I raise my eyebrows, and Cullen chuckles. “Not what I meant. Geez, Violet.” He shakes his head and his deep, throaty laugh sounds again. “I want to walk you to your car.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course that’s all. Yeah,” I stammer while wiggling forward to hop off the table. He backs up for me but still has my hand. I turn, a teeny bit embarrassed, and Cullen pulls me back into him. I can feel his arousal stirring through his gym shorts, and I’m not expecting him to be so turned on after one kiss. I’m used to having to work harder.
His arms wrap around my back so I have to arch and tilt my head up to see his face. I put my hands on his biceps and this time, unlike when he coerced me into the elevator, I do give them a squeeze. They’re miraculous.
“For tonight, yes, all I’m gonna do is walk you to your car. You’re setting the pace here, Violet, I mean it.”
“Ok,” I say lamely. He brushes his lips over mine again and then nuzzles behind my ear making me giggle. He lets me go so I can grab my bag. I tentatively offer Cullen my hand, and he takes it with a wink letting me lead him out the door.
Together we stroll around the outside of the building towards the front parking lot where my car is, but in my mind, I’m skipping and doing cartwheels. I feel like a twenty-five year old going on six. We get to my car and I notice that Cullen has parked right next to me.
Well played, Metz.
I unlock it with the key fob and Cullen opens the driver’s side. I stand in front of the passenger door when he takes my bag from my shoulder and places it on the seat. Cullen and I are toe to toe.
“Are you going to be at school much this week?” he questions. His eyes are dark, half hidden by his long lashes as he gazes down at me.
I place my hands on his chest and slowly smooth them up over his shoulders and around to the back of his neck. I lace my fingers and gently pull him down to me.
Against his lips, I ask, “Are you going to be at football practice much this week?”
He steps farther into me, our feet intertwining, my ass pressing up against the car. I lean back against the cool window, daring it to fog up. He puts his forearms on either side of my head, framing my head, and my breasts smash against his chest. My nipples buzz and the pressure is delicious. Our bodies sizzle with the heat.
Cullen nips at my lower lip and my breath hitches. My heartbeat is traveling lower and deeper into my body.
“I’ll see you here then?” he practically rumbles.
“Mmm hmm,” I release his neck, “for now.”
He pushes off the window leaving little marks of condensation, while I slide into the driver’s seat. I watch him in my mirror as I drive away and he watches back, running his fingers through his hair.
***
As I drive home, the voice of Anden starts snarling in my head and my heart starts to ache with the words that are on repeat—useless, worthless. Cullen will never want you. You’re worthless. Useless. A waste of his time. I push hard on my chest to try to rub away the jabs and sting. I shake my head to rattle out the hatred that keeps seeping in. Or maybe it’s leeching out from where it’s been planted deep down in my guts. I purposely breathe hard and deep. I hear him in the car with me; I can’t shut him up. Gravel dings off the underbody of my car as I veer off-road. I pull over to the shoulder and clutch the steering wheel.
“Leave me alone, Anden!” I scream at the windshield. “I hate you. You don’t know anything!”
I keep my grasp on the wheel until I’m afraid I’ve warped it, then peel my fingers off. The pain in unraveling them brings me back to reality. The car is now silent. After a few crisp but cleansing breaths, I pull back onto the road and with concentrated effort, make it home a short time later.
I hurry into my townhouse, secure the door, and run up the stairs to my bedroom. I feel so stupid. I still hear my dead husband taunting me with his cruelty. I try to bury all the shit, but it always comes back. Cullen isn’t ever going to want me when I’m so fucked up. The worst part is…that makes Anden right.