The Certainty of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence 5)

Seth gives me a sarcastic look as he plops down on the sofa. ‘Oh really? Then why do you sound so depressed?’

‘Not depressed.’ I take a swig of the soda as I back toward the bathroom. ‘Just a little surprised. That’s all.’ With that, I walk out of the room and into the hallway

When I get to the bathroom, I open the door, glad Violet didn’t lock it. The showers still on, the curtain closed, the air foggy.

‘Violet,’ I say as I shut the door behind me. I’m worried with how quiet it is. She’s been pretty mellow since Mira was arrested, but that healing cut on her wrist and cast on her arm is a reminder of how unstable she is. And even though she promised me she’d try to stop, I understand addiction way too well. Stopping is difficult, maybe one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I think drinking, gambling, fighting might always live in my veins, but it doesn’t mean I have to continue to feed them.

‘Yeah, in here,’ she replies over the sound of the flowing water.

‘Okay.’ I relax back against the door and fold my arms. ‘I was just getting worried … You’ve been in here for a while.’

‘I’m fine … you need to stop worrying about me so much.’

Yeah, that’s never going to happen. I don’t say it aloud though, figuring I’ve overloaded enough lovey-dovey shit on her since dropping the L word. We haven’t mentioned it, but we’re both hyperaware that it did occur – I can see it her eyes when she looks at me and feel it in the acceleration of my heart every time I look at her.

She draws the curtain out and sticks her head out. Her hair is wet and has suds in it and beads of water cascade down her face and neck. ‘I can’t figure out how to wash my hair and get all the soap out without using my casted arm.’ She sticks her arm out that’s wrapped in a cast, the cast wrapped in plastic. ‘This thing is a pain in the ass and not going to hold all the water out if I submerse it completely.’ She muses over something with a thoughtful look. ‘Although, it did come in handy the other day, when I pretended to bump my arm into this bitch, Daisy Miller, when I was on my way to the main office. I’m not sure what that chick’s problem is but she bumped into me and then tried to act like it was my fault, so I replied with a nice knock in her side with this thing. She really wants to get her ass kicked, I’m telling you.’

I can’t help but chuckle. I went to high school with Daisy Miller and she was a bitch like Violet said, but everyone let her walk all over them, except for me, but I never took shit from anyone. And neither does Violet, so I’m not surprised she reacted by ‘accidentally’ hitting her with her casted arm.

‘Yeah, Daisy’s a bitch,’ I say. When she gives me a funny look, like how the hell do you know her, I add, ‘Kayden used to date her when we were in high school.’

‘Really?’ She makes an ewe face. ‘That’s disgusting.’

I shrug. ‘He was going through some shit or something … I think that’s why he did it.’

‘Aren’t we all,’ she mutters, then sighs. ‘So any ideas on how to make washing my hair easier?’

‘I could get in there and help you.’ I’m partly joking but then she nods and the joke sort of evaporates and settles over me. Showering seems so intimate, so very couple-like, and it’s fucking terrifying how much I want to do it with her.

‘Hurry please, though.’ She steps back into the shower and lets the curtain go. ‘I have shampoo in my hair right now that I can’t get out.’

It grows silent as she waits for me to get in. I strip my clothes, wondering if a) she’s as nervous as I am and b) how the hell I turned into the kind of guy that gets nervous about showering with a girl. Yeah, I’ve never done it before, but still, it’s just a lot of nakedness and water. Not a big enough deal to get all worked up.

Still, I feel out of my element as I draw back the curtain and step inside. My eyes are fixed on Violet as I seal the curtain shut. She’s standing in front of the downpour, her cast arm in front of her, water rivering down her neck, her breasts, her stomach, her entire body wet and sexy as hell. Little beads of water dot the tattoo she has going down her side, of intricate flowers that wind and create viney patterns and I have the strongest hunger to lick them off. I catch her eyeing me too, her gaze lingering on my chest before colliding with my gaze.

‘How do you want to do this?’ Her chest heaves as she takes a deep breath.

It takes me a second or two to process exactly what she means, my mind immediately filling with a hundred different dirty ideas, every one of the including our naked bodies pressed together. But she’s talking about her hair.

I step toward her, the warmth of the shower hitting my legs as the water splashes on me. ‘Here, tip you head back,’ I tell her. She obeys, angling her neck and dipping her hair into the water. She starts to lose her balance and she sticks her good hand out to stop herself from falling. I hurry and wind my arm around her back, support her weight. ‘You can let go … I’ve got you.’

She swallows hard then lets go of the wall. Her eyes are fastened on mine as I run my fingers through her hair, washing the soap out. Her gaze fills with confusion, like she’s looking for something in my face or eyes but can’t figure out if it exists. I’m about to ask her if she’s okay, when she mutters, ‘You’re always keeping me from falling.’ Her eyes snap wide as soon as she says it, clearly the words an accidental falter of the lips. But it’s already too late. They’ve already struck my heart, pierced my soul and I lean down and press my lips to the base of her throat. I slide my lips up her neck, licking and nibbling at her flesh, moving slowly, relishing the taste of her. She lets out this uncontrollable whimper that I’ve only heard once from her, but that drives my body into a mad frenzy. I kiss her lips fiercely and she kisses me back with equal intensity. Our wet bodies are pressed together, the air damp, heavy, filled with heat. She’s still tipped back as I hold her up, tasting her, but I want more.

Slanting back, I guide her with me until we’re both standing up straight. She looks like she’s going to protest, but I back her up against the wall and lower my lips, licking up the water on her tattoo, just like I wanted to. She moans, relaxing under the touch of my tongue as it travels up her body, taste her flesh until I reach her mouth and crash my lips to hers. Her good hand grips at the back of my neck, pulling me close as my tongue searches every part of her mouth.