XOXO, Violet by Ginger Li

14Violet

“Who are you going out with tonight?”

Mom’s question was innocent enough, but Dad looked up from the book he was reading in the dining room, clearly interested in my response.

I stacked the plates in the sink. We’d just finished dinner, and I was in charge of the dishes. “Just a friend.”

“Does this friend have a name?” Dad asked.

I avoided eye contact and began rinsing off the plates before placing them in the dishwasher. “Wesley.” My stomach rumbled uncomfortably. I was so nervous about seeing Wes tonight that I hadn’t been able to enjoy a single bite of dinner.

Mom placed a stack of cups on the counter. “Is that the boy Joy was telling me about? The one with the killer smile?”

Micah’s laughter traveled all the way from the dining room.

Cheeks burning, I vigorously scrubbed the baking pan. “We’re friends. It’s not a date or anything.”

Dad leaned against the doorway separating the kitchen from the dining room. “Did you know the idea of dating is a relatively modern concept? George Ade inadvertently coined the word ‘date’ in eighteen ninety-six. Back then, society viewed women being courted in public as a public menace.”

Micah slid past Dad and dropped off some more plates on the counter. “Is that your way of telling Violet you disapprove of her dating? Because that doesn’t seem fair when I started dating in middle school, and poor Violet has yet to go on a single date with anyone.”

I shot my brother a look. Seriously? Did he have to bring up that fun tidbit right now?

Mom walked over and kissed Micah on the cheek. “That’s my boy. Fight for equality.”

Micah shot me a gloating smile, and Dad raised his hands in defeat. “No, I’m not saying Violet can’t go out on a date. As a father, I’m just wondering if I need to meet this Wesley with the killer smile.” He crossed his arms and tried to look tough, which was difficult because he was a lanky guy more comfortable reading books than fighting.

I shut the dishwasher and turned to my father. “It’s not a date, so no need to bring out the big guns.”

“Oh yeah?” Micah smirked. “Then why’s Wes coming by to pick you up?”

Three pairs of eyes studied me.

“He just o-offered. And I accepted. Doesn’t seem like that big of a deal.”

“Well, logically, it doesn’t make sense,” Micah said. “Book Nook’s closer to his place than ours, and yet, Wes is driving all the way out here to pick you up. He’s essentially—”

“Micah, dear”—Mom gave him a gentle but firm push toward the stove—“why don’t you put the kettle on? I’d love a cup of tea.”

I sent my mother a silent thanks. Although I loved my brother, sometimes he just wanted to stir up trouble.

“Remi, do you want some tea?” Mom asked my father.

“Sure. I’ll have it in the living room, so I can meet this young man who’s taking my daughter out.”

Et tu, Dad? I sighed. “We’re not going out.”

“Violet?” Mom pulled out her box of teas and offered it to me.

“No, thanks. I’ll get something at Book Nook.” I glanced at my phone. Only ten more minutes till Wes was due. “I’m going to grab a couple of things from my room. Just let me know when he gets here.” I eyed my father. “Please don’t embarrass me, Dad.”

He gave me a playful look. “I promise to keep it light. Stick to safe topics.”

“Like the history of dating and loose women,” Micah chirped.

Dad chuckled. “Well, it is an interesting topic.” He launched into another lecture.

I ran upstairs to grab my bag and then paused when I saw my reflection in the mirror. Since I’d spent most of the day signing books and responding to comments online, I’d worn a plain T-shirt and leggings to be comfortable. Should I wear something nicer?

What was I thinking? This wasn’t a date. Wes wouldn’t care what I looked like.

“Violet!” Micah called up the stairs. “Your non-date date’s here.”

Oh. My. Gosh. I was going to kill him.

I grabbed a tube of lip gloss and ran it over my lips, convincing myself that they felt dry.

And they did. Sort of.

While jogging down the stairs, I noticed all the nicks on the floor and cracks in the walls. What would Wesley think when he saw where I lived? Our place had a cozy boho vibe. It was a far cry from the minimalist mansion Wesley grew up in.

My steps slowed when I heard laughter coming from the living room. The scene that greeted me looked almost like one of those Norman Rockwell paintings. Dad and Mom were on the love seat, my grandmother’s colorful Afghan blanket draped across their laps. Wesley sat on the couch across from them, and Micah lounged at the dining room table, watching everything with a giant grin.

Dad looked my way first. “Hi, honey. Did you know that Wesley enjoys reading Shakespeare?”

I relaxed slightly. Of course that would be one of the first things my book-loving father uncovered. He always said you could tell a lot about a person from the books that they’d read. My eyes met Wes’s across the room, and he smiled at me like we shared a secret. I found myself smiling in return.

“Yeah, Dad. I talked to him about Much Ado About Nothing a while ago.”

“Violet’s read a ton of Shakespeare too,” Dad said.

It was true. One of the things I’d done to help with my stuttering was to read Shakespeare aloud every day. I figured that if I could read Macbeth smoothly, I’d be able to speak to other people without stumbling over my words.

“Wes was also saying he likes romances,” Micah added.

Now that was a surprise. He did?

“Nothing wrong with that,” Dad said. “A well-read person better develops empathy for others.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s why everybody reads romances,” Micah said solemnly. “Empathy.”

I shot my brother an icy glare. If he wasn’t careful, I’d spill the beans about his bed-wetting habits in first grade.

Wes sat a little straighter in his seat. “I can’t take all the credit for it. My younger sister, Ophelia, is a big fan of the classics and romance. So I read the romance books to keep her happy.”

He said nothing more, but I’d suspected Wes must have read to Ophelia to keep her company while she was sick. The thought made my heart swell.

Friends, I reminded myself, tamping down on my emotions. All we could ever be was friends.

Mom placed a hand to her heart. “That’s so sweet. I love it when brothers do things for their sisters. Micah and Violet are the same. They fight a ton, but they always have each other’s backs. There was this one time when they were five, and Violet ate a dozen cookies. Can you imagine that? The poor girl ended up vomiting all over Micah’s soccer cleats.”

My jaw opened and a sound of disbelief escaped. Great. All we needed now was for her to pull out the photos of me using the potty for the first time.

“And instead of getting mad,” Mom continued, completely unaware of how mortified I was, “Micah helped her change, popped the dirty clothes into the washing machine, and cleaned his shoes out with the hose. He’s such a good brother.”

Said “sainted” brother’s shoulders shook. The traitor wasn’t even bothering to contain his laughter anymore.

Wesley met my eyes and grinned. “I’ll be sure to keep Violet away from the cookies, Mrs. Reyes.”

“Oh, please, call me Jen. It’s always so nice to meet my daughter’s friends.”

Dad wrapped an arm around my mother’s shoulders and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “And you can call me Remi.”

Mom looked like she was about to launch into a deep conversation about Wesley’s hopes and dreams, and I knew it was time to leave. I headed over to Wes and tapped him on the shoulder. “We should get going if we want enough time to study.”

“Sounds great.” Wesley stood and took my hand in his.

Hand… holding… what? Coherent thoughts escaped me. Stunned, I gazed down at our joined hands.

Wesley Stirling was holding my hand. My hand!

“It was nice meeting you, Remi, Jen.” Wes addressed my parents as if nothing odd was happening between us. Like it was perfectly normal for us to be holding hands.

Um. What?

Dad cleared his throat. Obviously, he’d not missed our linked hands either. “Good to meet you too, son. Be sure to come home by eleven, Violet.”

“And we’d love to have you over again. You and your sister, in fact,” Mom said graciously. “We have our monthly game night scheduled right after Christmas. You two should join us.”

Seriously? Wes’s social calendar was probably packed with parties. And athletic events. And dates. Lots and lots of dates. That last thought made my stomach sour, and I tugged my hand from his. “Mom, no. He’s too—"

“Ophelia and I would love that. Violet can text me the details.”

I glanced over at him, shocked. Was Wesley, one of the most popular guys at our school, really coming to my house…to play Catan and Candyland? This night was beyond bizarre.

“You don’t have to come,” I murmured to Wes as we walked across the lawn. “I know board games aren’t everybody’s thing.”

He smiled. “But I want to. Your parents seem really nice.”

“Nice and nosy.” I snuck a peek back at the house and spotted my mother and father watching us through the front window. Go away! I mouthed.

They waved in response.

“Are they always like that?”

I turned to Wesley, who was waiting by his car. “Like what?”

“Loving. Present.”

When I glanced back, my parents were peeking at us again. It struck me then what a stark contrast my folks must be to his. “Yeah. They’re a little too involved in our lives.”

I got into the passenger seat, feeling rather pensive. All this time, I’d imagined life being so easy for the Prince of East Beach High. Gorgeous home. Lavish parties. Tons of friends. But now, I wondered whether his house was empty most of the time and how many of his friends knew about Ophelia’s illness. Wesley had this way of making everyone he met feel special.

But who made him feel special?

“Are you cold?” Wes asked as he slid into the driver’s seat.

I shook my head and gestured to my jacket, made from a fuzzy brown Sherpa fabric. Even though the days were still mild and sunny, temperatures plummeted once the sun went down. And since I hated the cold, I’d come prepared. “I’m pretty cozy in this. Micah says it’s made from ‘teddy bear skin.’ But I don’t care. I’d skin a ton of stuffed toys to get a jacket as soft and warm as this one.”

“And here I thought you were a lover of all creatures great and small.” Wesley feigned surprise.

I giggled. “I try not to eat red meat, but teddy bears are fine for the killing.” My eyes skimmed his choice of outfit—a swim team sweatshirt and joggers. Wes looked warm and comfortable, too, but unlike my shapeless apparel, his clothes fit him perfectly. There was no hiding the muscular body underneath.

Whoa. Had the temperature in the car just risen by a couple of degrees? I unzipped my jacket, trying to cool my heated skin.

Wes looked over. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me, by the way. I know how busy you are with work. Your aunt’s business must be booming.”

“Yeah. Right.” My stomach twisted. I hated dancing around the truth. “Things should settle after the first week of January.” After YouCon, my identity would be out, and I’d finally be done with my virtual book tour.

Wes started his car and pulled away from my house. Thankfully, he didn’t ask any more questions, and we spent the rest of the car ride in comfortable silence.

Downtown Mermaid’s Cove was hopping, and everything around us was decked out for the season. Twinkling lights, lampposts dripped with fake boughs, and spray-painted snow adorned the store windows. It felt as though everybody in town had squeezed into a fifteen-block radius, making it tricky to find parking. But after circling the same handful of streets several times, we eventually found a spot.

“Sorry that took so long,” Wes murmured as we stepped out of his car.

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t come downtown much at night, so this is fun.” One of the nearby store windows captured my attention, and I wandered over to look.

Beautiful ceramics sat inside a window surrounded by fairy lights. I eyed the Talavera pots, admiring their vibrant colors and designs. But it was a pair of delicate blue-green glazed pots that caught my eye.

“They have kintsugi pots!” I squealed.

Wesley came to stand beside me and peered into the store, his breath creating a foggy patch on the window. “What’s a kintsugi pot?”

As I motioned to the smaller sea-green pots with gold veins, my hand brushed against his sweatshirt. Startled, I tried to ignore the way all my nerve cells did a happy dance.

Friends. Just friends.

My arm dropped back to my side. “The Japanese have this term ‘wabi-sabi,’ which means finding beauty in imperfection. Kintsugi pots are broken pots that artists make whole again by gluing the pieces back together. But instead of hiding the cracks, they trace the fractures with gold paint. They’re hard to find around here. These are the first ones I’ve seen downtown.”

I eyed the pots, wistfully. Kintsugi pots were also expensive. Although I made a reasonable amount through advertising and merchandise sales, I split the profits with my brothers. Mom and Dad couldn’t afford to send all three of us to college, so every bit of money helped.

“Aren’t they stunning? I love them because they remind us that there’s beauty to be found when we acknowledge and repair our broken parts.” My words faded as I noticed Wesley watching me, a softness in his expression.

The air around us grew heavy, and Wes cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Guess we should get going if I need to get you home by eleven.”

I took one last look at the display, promising myself that I’d come back to check on the pots after YouCon.

We passed several more stores decked in dazzling lights until finally reaching our destination. Like the surrounding shops, twinkling Christmas lights outlined Book Nook’s front window display. Hand-cut snowflakes hung from clear fishing wire, dangling over piles of books wrapped in craft paper. Tiny figurines and Christmas village houses peeked out here and there, giving the scene a whimsical winter feel.

The toasty smell of roasted coffee beans greeted us the moment we stepped inside. Despite being a tea drinker, I drank in the delicious aroma. There was no better smell than a piping hot cup of coffee. We strolled past shelves and table displays until we made it to the café in the back, where, luckily, there was one empty table left.

Wes placed his backpack on a chair. “Do you want anything? My treat.”

“Can I have a hot chocolate, please?” I’d planned to order a green tea, but something about the festive displays had put me in the mood for something different.

Wes gave a slight bow. “As you wish.”

My stomach growled, and I debated asking him to order something for me to eat too, but he was already walking away. Several of the other customers, a few males but mostly females, turned to watch him as he passed.

A bolt of jealousy hit me square in the chest. Why was I torturing myself like this? Wesley was unquestioningly good-looking. Of course people would stare.

When he reached the front of the line, the girl working the cash register openly ogled him. After she’d handed him our order, I noticed her write something on the receipt before giving it to him.

Not wanting to see any more, I pulled out my notebook and began checking my stats on my phone. Last week’s videos were doing well, and my Instagram feed was getting a lot of engagement. As usual, Marcus had sent way too many reminders about next week’s schedule. I was about to reply with a snarky comment when a mug topped with the most enormous dollop of whipped cream I’d ever seen appeared in front of me.

“What is this monstrosity?”

A mischievous look sparkled in his eyes. “Hot Chocolate. Extra cream. They were very generous.”

I’m sure they were. The hot chocolate most likely came with a side order of cell phone number.

Wes didn’t mention the girl at the counter, but he did pull two huge chocolate chip cookies from behind his back. “And in case we get hungry, I also bought us some sustenance. I got one each, but you can have both if you want. I know how much you enjoy your cookies.”

“Thank you.” Secretly pleased that he’d remembered my mother’s story, I snatched one and took a bite.

Wesley watched me eat, a grin on his face. “What?” I mumbled, my mouth still stuffed with cookie. “Never seen a girl enjoy her baked goods before?”

“Are you intending to save some for later?” He leaned in and pointed to the corner of his mouth. “You have something right here.”

Oh boy. Chocolate and a hot guy within touching distance? I licked the corner of my mouth, hoping I didn’t also have drool on my face. “Is it gone now?”

“Let me see.” Wes slid his chair so close to mine that our legs brushed against each other. “Looks like it’s all gone. But don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye out in case it returns.” His gaze rested on my lips a little too long.

Holy hollyhocks. I didn’t know whether to scream or kiss him. Or maybe both…

Wait. What? Hunger was clearly scrambling my brain. Enough with the sexy leg touches and heated glances! “We should start working. It’s getting late.” I tapped my wrist but inwardly groaned. I wasn’t even wearing a watch.

Wesley shifted his chair back. “Sure,” he said easily. He pulled out his textbook and binder. “I’m having trouble understanding how to graph questions thirteen and twenty-five.”

And that’s why liking Wesley was a bad idea. The way he slipped into business mode made me remember—this infatuation was clearly one-sided.

Hoping to bury my emotions under a pile of numbers and symbols, I got to work explaining the various concepts. One hot chocolate and two chocolate chip cookies later, Wes held up his work triumphantly. “And this is how I’d graph the answer.”

I scanned the paper and stifled a yawn. It was only nine, but burning the candle at both ends was catching up to me. “Nice.” I raised my hand overhead, and he gave me a high five.

Electricity danced across my fingertips, and I tore my hand away.

Down, emotions. Down.

“Wesley?” Two girls that I recognized from school but didn’t know the names of stood over us.

The taller one, with strawberry-blond hair, smiled at Wesley. “Hayden and I wondered if you were free to hang out after your tutoring session.”

My heart fell, and I turned away and began packing up my things. Of course these girls would want to hang out with him. They were more his type than some homebody who struggled to stay awake after nine. “This is great timing,” I mumbled, trying not to feel too irritated. “You’re in good shape for next week’s midterm. I’ll text Micah to pick me up.”

“Hold on a moment.” Wesley stretched his arm along the back of my chair. His fingertips brushed against my shoulder, and I almost toppled from my seat. “Sorry, girls. But Violet and I are heading out after this. We’re going on a date.”

The look of surprise on their faces was mirrored on my own. Had I heard him correctly?

Once the girls were out of earshot, Wesley angled in so that his face was mere inches from mine. “Breathe, Violet. It’s part of our deal, right?”

How could I forget? Fake holding hands. Fake date. Everything was just pretend for him.

But my racing heart told me that things were quickly becoming all too real for me.