She continues laugh, her hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking as she uses her free arm to shove me back. “I can’t believe you’ve had sex to this song.”
“Hey, I never said I had sex with anyone to this,” I protest, even though I have no clue if that’s true. I’m trying not to grin, because I never thought this would be happening again, things being so light between us and I don’t want to get all excited when I know it’s going to crash down at any moment. “And they’re not all bad. Some are actually pretty good.” I reach forward and fast forward to the next song. Nine Inch Nails “Closer” comes on and I let it play, relaxing.
She lowers her hand to her lap and absorbs the lyrics silently. I’m guessing if she wasn’t so good at shielding her emotions, she’d probably be blushing, but it’s not her style. I remember when she told me she was a virgin, back before I took her virginity. She said it so bluntly, so unashamed, that I ended up spitting my drink out on the floor in surprise. The only time I’ve ever seen her show her raw emotions was the one and only time we had sex. It was the first time I didn’t try to hold any emotion back too, which made the moment perfect until a few hours later when everything fell apart. Another time, another place, where I wish I could have stay, because for a moment everything was perfect, but it was just the calm before the storm.
“Okay, this one’s not so bad,” Violet remarks as she lets her head fall back against the seat, her lips part, she’s so relaxed. “In fact, I could see how having sex to this could be good.”
God, what I would give to have sex with her right now. Right here. To this very song.
I could act on it, but I don’t, trying to be the decent guy she was turning me into a couple of months ago. The one who took better care of himself, who didn’t drink so much, who wasn’t so angry.
As I struggle to keep my horniness to myself for the next hour, this weird sexual tension builds between us as she insists on going through the entire tape. Deftones “Change” Nickelback’s, “Something in Your Mouth,” “Addicted” by Saving Abel, the list of songs goes on and on, getting hotter and sexier with each one. It reminds me more and more of the one and only time Violet and I had sex. God, I want her again. Seriously, who’s idea was this? It’s getting so hot in the cab of the truck I crack the window, pretending it’s because I’m going to smoke, when really it’s to cool the hell down, otherwise I’m going to end up having an orgasm while I’m driving.
I’m saturating my lungs with nicotine when finally Violet slides forward on the seat to turn the music down. “You have a really dirty mind, Luke Price. Seriously. Where did you find all those songs?”
I shrug. “I was bored one day, so I made the tape. Took a while, but I was pretty proud of it.”
Her eyes glide to me and twinkle mischievously in the moonlight shining through the windows. “How many times have you had sex while the tape was playing?”
I squirm uncomfortably in the seat as I ash the cigarette out the window. “I feel a little uncomfortable talking to you about this,” I admit.
“Well, it’s a lot easier than talking about all the things we aren’t talking about don’t you think?” She sighs tiredly as she slumps back in the seat.
“We could talk…” I take a long inhale off my cigarette and gradually let it out, smoke circling my face. “If you want to.”
She tenses as she shakes her head and stares out the window to the side of her. “I’m not ready to just yet.” she says quietly. “I want to play make believe for just a little bit longer.”
God, I’ve never felt my heart shatter for someone else more than I have at this moment. I want to pull the truck over, wrap my arms around her, and just hold her. But that’s not really what she’s asking me to do, is it?
So instead I eject the tape and toss it up onto the dash. “You know I have three more of these in the glovebox.”
A smile touches her lips as she sits up and gets the tapes out, going back to playing make believe, pretending that everything is okay, when it’s not.
Violet
I fall asleep sometime around two o’clock in the morning and crash right into my nightmares. The one where I’m in the basement, hiding, listening to the sounds of what I think are fireworks but turn out to be my parent’s deaths. The nightmare has changed over the last two months into something I don’t like.
Luke.
He’s the one who comes into the basement that night, just a boy my age, but he’s not there to hurt anyone. He wants to help me—always wanting to help me.
“Take my hand,” he says as he stands in the middle of the basement, looking right at me hiding in the corner, surrounded by boxes and toys. I don’t understand how he can see me or how he can tell that I’m afraid, but he can. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you—I’ll protect you.”
I shake my head, not daring to move. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” he encourages, stepping toward me. “It’s going to be okay.”
“But I’m too scared,” I whisper in horror as sounds fill the house, one’s of pain and destruction.
He kneels down in front of me, his hand still extended out. “She scares me too, but if there’s two of us, maybe things won’t be so scary.”
I hesitate, then finally place my hand in his, crawling out of the corner. There’s a moment where I feel safe as he holds onto my hand, but then I hear the bang. I jerk back, my fingers slipping out of his and the safeness slips from my body as he’s pulled away from me. Stolen by his mother as she starts to sing that stupid song, the one that ruined my life.
***
My eyelids snap open as I suck in a large breath of air, fighting my lungs to keep breathing, my body to keep thriving, my mind to stay intact as I grasp into the edge of the seat.
“Violet, breathe,” Luke says from beside me. The truck has stopped moving and the sun is up in the bright blue sky, so I can see the worry on his face. He opens his arms to lean in and hug me, but I can’t let him right now, not when the feelings from the nightmare still linger under my skin.
“I’m okay,” I say in a hoarse voice, leaning back against the door and catching my breath. “I was just having a nightmare.”
Luke is the one person in the world who knows what my nightmares are about and I can tell it’s difficult for him not to say anything about it, but he manages to keep his thoughts to himself and grabs the door handle to get out of the car. “The truck needs gas,” he mumbles, trying to shake off my refusal to let him help me. “Why don’t you run in and get something to eat?”