𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

we were too different,
you were so sensitive,
gave me the best of that,
I was so negligent
-Gracie Abrams

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

October 2008,

Me and Tenny didn't speak after that day he kissed me on the river bed. We never got the chance to because once I got home, my mom said she'd met a man in Kentucky. He drove trucks and had a bedroom all set-up for me.

We packed up our things and left the next morning.

Mom said there wasn't time for good-byes.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

I throw open the closet that Frankie and I share. We each have one of our own, but Frankie has a lot of things, and I don't, so she puts her extra clothes in mine on the condition that I can borrow anything I want. I snag two shirts and a pair of jeans and stuff them into a tote bag.

"I'm staying at Dalton's, tonight," I say to Frankie. She's laid up in her twin-sized bed, all hunched over painting her toe-nails. I told her that was a bad idea; she was going to get red polish all over her new sheets. She said she was too much of a professional for that to happen.

"Will Khalil be there too?" she asks. "Or does he have some freshman's bed to tend to?"

I shake my head. "I don't know, Frankie. Dalton just said he had the room to himself, for the night and to come over. I didn't ask for details." She raises an eyebrow. "Don't start—you know I only go there to sleep. Sleep, that's it."

She groans. "I have never met two people more handsy who have never actually gone past first base. What you're doing to that man should be studied by science." She flops onto her back, ignoring my eyerolls. "Maybe I'll find some freshman's bed to crawl into. I think Bailey's roommate is a total cutie, don't you? What was his name?—"

"Tens." I shove a hairbrush and some deodorant into my tote bag, with a bit more force than intended. I forgot that other people can see Tenny, too. His brown eyes and wide smile. He is springtime and rainclouds.

"Right, that's it...but I would never do that to my precious Bails," she argues. "He'd be heartbroken, you know? I think there are all the makings for a beautiful relationship, there. Love is blossoming; it's in the air!"

I throw a pillow at her head and she erupts into a belly laugh.

"He doesn't understand that you're joking. You know that, right?" I say. "You should be careful; he might actually fall in love with you."

"And would that really be the worst thing? God forbid someone actually love me."

"Unrequited love is never a good thing."

"Well, as long as it's falling in your favor." She picks at her toe polish. Her curls bouncing around her head, as she hums a poppy tune. But she doesn't understand: one-sided love is never a good thing, even when you aren't the one whose fallen.

It isn't nice to break someone's heart.

Not when they really loved you.

Not when you really wanted to love them back, but couldn't.

✩ ✩ ✩

Dalton's room looks nearly identical to my own.

The same wood flooring and peeling paint. The same cheap, pine furniture: two beds and two desks, pushed against the walls. The only difference is the baseball posters and Khalil's shoe collection taking up half the floor space.

We're wrapped up in Dalton's sheets. Cotton pajamas on scratchy blue sheets. The bed is too small for us both—it's too small for Dalton, on his own. My body is practically thrown on top of his. It can't be comfortable for him, but he never complains. He leans onto his palm and stares down at my face.

"I think we should talk about it," he says.

"About what?"

He sighs. "You know what. Violet, I'm fine with you wanting to wait, but what is it you're waiting for, exactly? We've almost been dating for a year, now. Don't you trust me?" His blue eyes are pleading. Golden hair, messy and tousled.

I sit up. "Of course, I trust you. It isn't about that."

"Then, what is it about?" he asks. "It's not like it would be your first time, you told me that. Why could you do it with other people, but not with me?"

"You know I hate when you bring that up."

It's one of the few times, I didn't lie to Dalton about my past. It seemed too important, somehow, to lie about something as taboo as virginity. But maybe I should have, because he loves to throw it back in my face. His Violet, his goody-two-shoes Violet touched by another man. As if that somehow entitles him to touch me, now.

He grabs onto my hand. "I'm sorry, I just want to understand. Did something happen? Was it not good the first time? Did someone hurt you or—"

"God, Dalton! No, it's nothing like that." I rub my hands over my face, gather my messy hair on top of my head. I'm being unfair—he only asks because he loves me. He only wants those things because he loves me. I sigh. "I didn't care about those other people, not like I care about you...I just don't want anything to mess this up."

He kisses the back of my hand. "Nothing is going to mess this up, especially not sex."

"I know," I say. "But I just need some more time, alright?"

He flops back onto his pillow. "Okay."

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

November 2008,

I hated Kentucky.

Mom lied about my new bedroom. Jimmy didn't have a room set up for me. He didn't even drive trucks. He got fired for being a drunk and he lived in a double-wide trailer that was piled with boxes.

I didn't like Jimmy, but he seemed to really like me.

...

Author's Note:

What are your thoughts on our main character, Violet?

How do we feel about her current relationship? I'm always curious if my readers interpret things the same way I meant them.

Thanks again for reading! Hope to see you in the next chapter.
Xx