The Probability of Violet and Luke(10)

As I’m heading into the classroom, I’m a little distracted, and react slowly as someone enters the doorway at the same time. Our shoulders collide and I step back, angry Violet rising and ready to take it out on someone.

“Where’d you learn how to walk?” I say coldly. The second I say it though I catch the scent of Vodka, cigarettes, and cologne; a scent that I’m very familiar with. I glance up and am greeted by a pair of intense brown eyes, an unshaven jawline, scraggily brown hair, and a pained expression that I’m sure matches mine. “Luke.” I don’t mean to say it aloud but it slips out. He looks terrible up close, a bruised cheek, and dark circles under his eyes, exhausted, and a gnawing feeling forms in my gut as I wonder if it’s my fault he looks this way. I want to ask him what happened, but emotions slam through me, filled with invisible razors, needles and fire, so potent and painful I can barely breathe. I want to touch him so badly. Kiss him. Feel his tongue slip into mine. I desperately want everything we had a couple of months ago. The smiles. The rainbows. The sunshine and even the ridiculous cheesiness of dates and flirting even though normally I couldn’t stand it. But with Luke things were different. I’d more than welcome it all right now if it meant it could get rid of how I’ve been feeling.

But it can’t—nothing can erase the past and despite my want for him, just being near him reminds me of my parents. And how I ran from him because that and what I did with Preston. I should move away from him, yet I can’t bring myself to do so, finally feeling alive for the first time in two months. I hate to admit it, but it’s true. I’ve been a walking zombie, a hollow shell, like I was for so many years, but not at this moment. And apparently neither can he. So we end up standing there, staring at each other, stuck somewhere between reality and the make believe land we wished existed; the one where monsters never showed up at night at my house and his mother wasn’t one of them. The one where we could touch each other and not have to think. The one were we could be together and not hurt. The one we had before we found out the truth.

It’s the first time we’ve been this close since the truth was discovered and it’s more powerful and potent than I ever imagined. We don’t speak, move, breathe, even when people file in and out of the classroom doorway between us. Our eyes are locked, our breaths ragged. The longer we stare at each other, the more confused he looks and the more lost I feel because I’m not moving away. Instead I feel like I’m being pulled toward him, or maybe it’s more that I’m falling. I’m not sure. And I don’t want to be sure. What I want is for time to stand still, right at this moment, so we never have to move forward again.

But then his lips part, and everything around me unfreezes. I have no idea what’s going to come out of his mouth. If I’ll hate it. Like it. Want it—maybe. And maybe I’ll take it.

I never get to find out, though, because the Professor walks between us and breaks the moment like glass, the sharp pieces exploding and scattering around us. We’re both abruptly reminded that make believe is just that and doesn’t really exists unless you live in a fairytale.

Chapter 3
Luke

I’m bailing out on school. I can’t take it today, walking around in the same building, seeing her, wanting to touch her, kiss her, f*ck her, do whatever I want with her. We were so close and all that desire and need was ripping through me, even though I’d just seen her kiss another guy five minutes ago. I wanted her more than anything. Right there in the hallway, in front of everyone. And I was drunk enough to try it. But then the professor walked by and broke our little moment. And I swear to God, it broke me as well.

I sit in the back row and watch her take notes the entire length of class and it’s pure torture. Finally, I decide that I need to get the hell out of here, so instead of heading to my next class, I leave the campus. I think about calling my best friend, Kayden Owens, and seeing what he’s up to, but I don’t really feel like having company. I feel like doing something that will distract me. Something reckless. Dangerous. Something that comes with risks, chances for trouble, fighting.

I go back to my apartment and grab my stash of cash, which I keep in my sock drawer. I’m up to three thousand bucks and start counting out half of it, but then take the whole damn thing with me. I stuff the stash into my pocket and then head out the door, but pause when I see that I forgot to put the copy of Amy’s journal away. It’s opened up to the page I was reading, before I had to put it down; the one where she starts to get depressed, right after Caleb raped her. If only we would have found this sooner, then maybe she could have gotten some help.