Page 85 of Twisted Violet
“Yeah. Of course.” Her reply is too fast, too smooth.
Her fingers tighten around the book’s spine, and she releases a gentle sigh.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, trying to figure out a way to reach her. “Hey, so I was thinking. You know that weirdly sad movie we watched last week? The one about the pop stars who fight demons?”
Her lips twitch.Almost. “That isn't a sad movie, Dallas.”
I grin. “You cried.”
She glances at me. “So did you.”
There it is. A flicker of the girl I know. The one I’ve missed like hell for the last couple of days.
My heart thuds like it’s happy to get a glimpse of her too.
"Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to do a rewatch with me?”
V shakes her head without looking at me. "Not now, maybe later."
I shift closer, reach out, and brush my fingers against her knee. Her gaze drops to the spot where my skin touches hers, but she doesn’t move.
“Where are you?” I murmur.
She stiffens. “I’m right here.”
I give her a sad smile. “No, you’re not.”
The silence that follows feels like it’s pressing against my ribs. I move my hand up to gently cup the side of her face.
She meets my eyes, and for one second, she leansinto my touch.
I inch towards her. Close enough to smell the faint scent of vanilla clinging to her skin. Close enough to remember how her lips felt against mine the night I almost lost Ollie. Desperate, warm, and real. Like she needed me just as much as I needed her.
My chest aches with the memory.
I swallow and lean in for a kiss.
But when I’m a breath away, she turns her head and my lips graze her cheek instead.
It’s not a full-blown rejection, but it sure as hell feels like it.
She pulls away and smiles like she didn’t just rip my soul out. “I should finish this chapter.”
Ollie lifts his head slightly, ears twitching. Watching me like he knows I just lost something.
I lean back and don’t say anything. Because what’s there to say?
I don’t need her to kiss me. I don’t even need her to want me back. I just needher.And despite her being right here, smiling at me like everything’s fine, I can’t shake the feeling that she’s already gone.
I shut her door behind me quietly and I rub a hand over my face.
What the fuck was I thinking?
I knew something was off with her, knew something was wrong the minute she gave me that fake smile in the kitchen a few days ago. And instead of slowing down, asking, and listening. I did what I always do. Tried to fix it with charm. With touch. With heat. Usedthatinstead of my words.
Because deep down, I still think that’s all I’m good for. Adistraction. Something easy and shallow. Something that feels like comfort even when it’s not.
I thought maybe if I could make her feel wanted, it would help, but all I did was make her pull away. And that smile she gave me before I left… that wasn’t relief. It was resignation. The kind people wear when they’re tired of pretending everything’s okay.
