Page 13 of If You Dare

And I believe him.

Aneesa’s lips purse. “I’m sure he’s not exactly happy to see you, but he’ll get over it. If he really hates you being here that much, he can leave.”

“He’s a senior. And he’s the hockey captain. He’s definitely not going anywhere.” And if Wes did leave because of me, that would just be another way I ruined his life. More guilt weighing on me.

“That sounds like his problem,” Aneesa insists. “You have just as much right to be here as he does, Violet.”

“I don’t have a right to anything.” I appreciate what she’s trying to do, but she has no clue what she’s talking about, so I keep my voice firm. Conversation over. “I need to call my mom and tell her to come get me.”

Aneesa nods and returns to her laptop to read her email. At least, she pretends to.

Mom answers on the third ring. “Violet?” she asks. She used to call me hon.

“I need to come home.” My voice is already watery.

Silence. My first day of kindergarten, I cried so much that the teacher let me call Mom from the front office and she left work to pick me up early. My first day of college, I called her crying that I already missed her and she stayed up on the phone with me until I fell asleep.

A dull ache roots deep in my chest when she doesn’t offer to come get me this time. “You knew this first day back wouldn’t be easy. You can get through this.”

“I will literally attend anywhere else,” I plead. “Just please don’t make me stay here.” She can send me to a university in Alaska for all I care. At least there, no one will know who I am. What I’ve done.

“What happened?” Her tone is gentler now, full of concern.

My voice cracks. “Wes hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” she soothes. “He’s hurting and angry, but that will pass when he realizes what happened was an accident. You’ve worked so hard for this opportunity, Violet. Few people are lucky enough to get a free education, let alone at their dream school. You’ve wanted to be a writer your whole life, and you can’t flush away all your hard work for anyone. If you leave, you’d have to figure out a way to pay for a place to stay, a car, tuition. We don’t have the money for that. Trust me, Wes will find it in his heart to forgive you, and you’ll be so glad you decided to stay.”

“What if I just take a gap year?” My heart is pounding in my chest now. I can’t stay here. I can’t. “I’ll come back after he graduates.”

“You’ll forfeit your scholarship.” A pregnant pause. “What happened with Wes, Violet? If something happened, I can talk to the Novaks.”

That would only make Wes resent me more if he found out I ran to my mommy and got his parents involved. I have enough guilt weighing me down. I don’t need more.

Mom is right. I’ll never get a free ride anywhere else, and this is what I’ve been working for my entire life. All I have left is my education, my career. My writing is the only remaining part of me that brings me any flicker of joy, of hope. I can’t give that up.

Wes is pissed right now. He threatened to kill me in the heat of the moment. But he would never actually hurt me.

He’ll be busy with his own classes and a hectic hockey schedule. Between working out, practice, games, and travel, he’ll forget all about me.

All I need to do is survive until he graduates.

Chapter9

Before

Violet

A month into the semester,Chloe and I already have a routine. She wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to train, and we meet up for lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays when our schedules align. In the afternoons, she attends class, and in the evenings, she studies and watches Netflix on her phone or her laptop before bed while I read. Despite being one of the coolest, funniest girls I’ve ever met, the only friend she seems to have is me. Maybe that’s why she hasn’t said anything about me not having any other friends either.

“You should write a book,” she says.

I’m halfway through the one I’m currently reading—a romantic fantasy—and I had no idea this one was explicit. I blush when I get to the first use ofcock.

“I’ve always wanted to write one,” I admit.

“So why haven’t you?” Chloe sits up to face me.

Even though I call myself a writer and I’m in college to get a creative writing degree, I’ve always told myself that writing books is something I would do as an adult when I finally had stories to tell. Someday, somehow, I’d wake up and know that this was the time to write a book and become an author.

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