The Destiny of Violet and Luke(73)

He stands to the side of the bed staring down at me with a pucker at his brows. “So Hayes, huh?” he asks, folding his arms and jerking me out of my thoughts.

I shrug, pretending it’s not a big deal when it is. “Yeah, it’s just a last name, though.”

“Yet, you seemed very reluctant to hand it over to me.”

“Maybe, I was,” I say, keeping my tone light and sarcastic. “But I guess you wore me down.”

He scans my entire body and my knees slip apart, like they’re giving him an open invitation. For a second I think of the porn movie I saw at Preston’s and the look on the guy and girl’s faces as they went to town. So content. Blissfully, lost in themselves. It kind of makes me want to let Luke do the same thing to me, see if I can get to that place.

“What are you thinking about?” he wonders as he sits down on the edge of the bed.

I bite my lip, feeling embarrassment surface, but I play it off. “Nothing important.”

He seems greatly conflicted about something as he continues to stare down at me. “Do you want to borrow one of my shirts to sleep in?” he finally says.

I almost laugh at the idea of wearing something that belongs to him as I fall asleep in his room. It’s too personal, then again this entire situation is getting personal and I start to get up to change beds. “I’m good, but thanks.”

He nods and then with hesitancy, he lies down on the bed beside me, leaving hardly any room between us. “You can just sleep in… my bed if you want. I don’t have any extra sheets or blankets.”

I freeze, glancing at the mattress on the other side of the room, and then at the limited space between us. “That’s okay… I can handle sleeping on a filthy mattress for one night.”

He pauses, looking as uncomfortable as I do. “Just stay in my bed, Violet. If you want I’ll take Kayden’s old one, but I’m not going to make you sleep on that filthy thing.”

I frown, considering the options. I hate sleeping with people and I know I should take the other bed or make him take it, but for some reason I find myself curious about the idea of sharing a bed with him. “Fine, we can share.” I lie back down on the bed and shoot back against the wall, putting as much space between us as I can. “Just don’t crowd me.”

“And vice versa,” he says and I roll my eyes. “And don’t worry, I usually don’t sleep talk, although I do sometimes sleep kiss.” The corners of his lips tease upward and I’m struck by how nice his smile is.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t sleep bitten anyone in long time,” I retort. “Then again, no one’s given me a good reason to.”

“Dually noted,” he says with another smile as he moves his arm above our heads to the pillow and turns on his side to face me.

I smile back, but it’s tight and not necessarily my phony one, but a nervous smile. I can’t believe I’m actually going to sleep in a bed with someone. The last time that happened was when a son in one of my foster families would sneak into my room and kiss me until I fell asleep. I was fourteen and he was sixteen. Honestly I was confused because it felt so good to be kissed yet at the same time it felt wrong. Regardless of my conflicted feelings I kept letting him come into bed with me, touch me, even though we barely said ten words to each other my entire two months there. Then his mother walked in and caught us and it was good-bye Violet.

I start to sit up, deciding that I’ll take the gross mattress over this because I don’t think I can handle it. But he shifts closer to me, crowding me just like I asked him not to do, I feel the current of his body heat hit mine. I remember how it felt in the truck to be under him, how good his lips felt on mine, and it keeps me glued to the mattress until dark settles through the room and my eyelids become too heavy to keep open.

*


It’s dark. So dark. Why does it have to be so dark? My legs are trembling almost as bad as when I was downstairs, but they shouldn’t be. The scary people left and I’m okay. The lady that acted like she saw me, but never said a word. I’m free. They didn’t hurt me. Everything is going to be okay. But why doesn’t it feel that way?



I stand outside my parents’ room forever. The door is wide open, making it easy to go in, yet it seems so hard, like I’m stepping into a haunted house and something’s going to reach out and grab me at any moment. My heart hurts so bad and I want to cry, yet I don’t. Why?