The Destiny of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence, #3)(54)

“Then what are you thinking?” Some of the harshness evaporates as she studies me.

“I honestly have no idea. You’ve seriously got my head f*cked up and all over the place,” I admit.

She seems pleased over this. “Why?”

“Because I have no idea what you’re thinking and that’s not normal for me.”

“What are you? A mind reader?” she asks, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“No, just observant.”

“Well, maybe you can’t tell what I’m thinking because I don’t have a whole lot going on inside my head.”

I almost smile as I recline against the door and rest my elbows on the windowsill. “I don’t think that’s even close to the truth. I think you have a lot going on inside your head. More than most people, which is why you had a panic attack.”

“It wasn’t a panic attack,” she contends, resting back against her door. “I just got caught up in the excitement.”

I touch my split lip with my fingers and wince from the sting. “You think watching two guys beat the shit out of each other is exciting?”

“Maybe.” She pulls a regretful face as she admits this, bringing her legs up on the seat. “Does that make you afraid of me?” she wonders.

I’d laugh at her, but I am kind of afraid of her. Afraid of how she makes me feel, the way I get swept up with her, the fact I’m thinking about her and not just myself, something I promised myself I’d never do in order to keep control over my own life. Me and me alone. “So Kayden moved out.” I switch topics to avoid the pull I’m feeling toward her, the needy ache, to kiss her, feel her, be with her. Complicated, I remind myself. “You can crash on his bed, but tomorrow I can’t help you.”

She sits up, slides her knees toward her chest, and wraps her arms around them, hugging them against her as she rests her chin on her knees. She looks so vulnerable and helpless, the armor she wears chipping away. I can’t seem to think about anything else but how easy it’d be to hit on her, play her until she gives in to me. I’d lay her underneath me and f*ck her over and over again until I got this stupid obsession I have for her out of me.

“Where are you living for the summer?” she asks, slamming me away from my thoughts. “Are you staying here or going home or something?”

I lean away from the door and open it up without answering her, ready to escape the conversation. Then I hurry and hop out of the truck and head up the sidewalk, hearing the truck door open.

She quickly rounds the front of my truck, skittering in front of me with her arms out to the side of her. “That’s not fair,” she says with a frown. “You know my sad little story, at least part of it, and it’s only fair I get to know yours.”

“The only thing I know is that you were going to live with some old pervert who likes to hit you and now you have no place to live,” I clarify and dodge around her, heading for the entrance doors.

She walks across the parking lot beside me. “Do you have someplace to live?”

I rake my hand over the top of my head. “Does it really matter?”

“Maybe.”

“That seems like your go-to answer.” I bite my tongue, deciding whether to shout at her to back the f*ck off or run like hell. “Don’t flip this to being about me.”

“Why?” she says, spinning around and walking backwards in front of me. “You know I’m homeless, so why’s it a big deal if I know you are?”

I stop at the curb, feeling something force its way up inside me. I’ve never been asked questions like this. People are usually too afraid of me and that’s the way I like it. And if it was any other girl I’d probably think she was just trying to get an invite home with me, but I’m starting to understand Violet enough to know that she’s probably getting a kick out of being a pain in the ass.

“You’re right.” I throw my arms up in the air exasperatedly. “I have no f*cking place to live.” I breathe heavily. “There, are you happy?”

She shakes her head, pieces of her hair blowing in the warm breeze as she looks over at a couple laughing beneath the trees. “No, not really.”

“Me neither.” I glance around the campus yard, scanning the trees, the few cars in the parking lot, my boots, looking anywhere but at her, otherwise she’ll pull me into her, like she’s been doing since she made me care enough to follow her to her car after she kicked me in the face.

“So now what do we do?” Her eyelids flutter against the sunlight as I glance up.

“You’re asking me what we should do?” I arch an eyebrow at her. “Really?”

She looks around defenselessly and I wish she’d bring back that detached attitude so I wouldn’t feel such a need to help her. “I’m running out of ideas, but if I have to I’ll sleep on the streets,” she says.

“You’re not going to sleep on the streets… we’ll figure something out.” I close my eyes when I realize I said “we’ll,” like we’re a couple, which we’re not. We’re just two strangers who keep crossing paths and can’t seem to get rid of each other. “If we have to, we can sleep in my truck.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen how well that goes. You’re a serious seat hog.” Humor laces her voice.