“If I knew, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” she says.
We’re too close. Now my hand is on the back of her neck and I’m barely breathing for anticipation, my blood rushing through my ears with a steady stream of don’t do this, don’t do this.
I know exactly how to surprise her.
I lean down and plant my lips on hers, reveling in this bad idea, her mouth soft and warm and pliable, her body slowly crushing against mine as I step in, bringing her against me.
She kisses me back, and it’s different this time – softer, sweeter – but it’s every bit as good, her mouth fervent under mine, opening as she slides a hand onto my waist and tugs at me.
It’s softer but no less intense, the heat of it pounding through me; sweeter but I don’t want her less, still dizzy, still ravenous for her.
Her teeth brush against my lip, ever so slightly, and I’m reminded that this is dangerous. It’s even more dangerous than I knew, because my other arm’s around her too, because I’m already swiping my tongue along her lip, because I’m already thinking of how to open this door without pulling my lips away from hers, get inside, find out if she’s this willing in the dark of her bedroom, too.
We move against each other. Our lips part, millimeters, a split second. Her hand closes around my shirt and then we meld again and this time there’s a renewed urgency, an undercurrent that wasn’t there before.
I pull a hand from her, find the doorknob, push it open when there’s a loud BANG from somewhere beyond her trailer.
We both jerk back, Violet nearly stepping off her porch, though I grab her before she can go. She’s flushed and open-mouthed, lips red and slightly swollen, her hair even more wild than after her bowling victory.
We look at each other. I’ve already forgotten the noise, my mind too filled with everything that just happened and what’s going to happen next.
Violet swallows.
“I think it’s the —"
Another crash, this one on her roof. I pull her toward me, my arm protectively going around her back as we look up, following the noise.
There’s an unmistakable scraping sound of something sliding down the trailer’s aluminum roof. I pull her in harder.
A moment later an empty, crushed beer can falls, landing with a hollow clunk on her stairs.
“ — Rednecks next door,” she finishes.
I look at the fallen beer can, Violet still in my arms. I’m rattled as hell, far more by Violet than by the redneck almost-assault.
“They seem to make a lot of things explode,” Violet says, talking fast, shoving her hair behind her ears. She doesn’t look at me, but she steps out of my arms. “The other day they —”
“Y’all okay?” a voice says from behind me, and I turn. A guy wearing torn camo pants and a white undershirt comes around the corner of her trailer, looking concerned.
“We’re fine,” Violet says. “I think we’ve got your can.”
She points at it, still lying on her steps.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” he says, loping over to the can and picking it up. “I told Jim not to light that thing but you know he don’t listen when he’s drunk. I’ll try to get them to tone it down a notch so y’all can have your privacy.”
He grins, winks, then ducks back around the corner of the trailer.
Violet’s hand is on her door knob again, and suddenly the space between us feels like a chasm.
“Thanks for the ride,” she says, already pushing the door open. “I gotta get — you know, work — and it’s kind of cold out here? And I’m sure you also need to get home…”
“Violet.”
“And I have to figure out how to get my car back?”
“Violet.”
Finally, she looks at me. Dead in the eye.
“It’s a bad idea, Eli,” she says, her voice still and quiet. “Thanks for the ride, though.”
Then she’s through the door and gone, and I don’t even get to tell her that maybe it’s not a bad idea before it closes on me.
Not that I’ve got evidence to back that up. Not that I’ve even got reasons beyond hey, that was pretty fun, but in this moment that sure seems like reason enough.
Her trailer’s dead quiet. No lights go on. No floorboards squeak from inside.
I turn around and walk down her steps, her lights still glowing softly overheard, the rednecks next door hooting and hollering even though it’s a damn Tuesday night.
I get in my truck and drive back home to my mom’s house, and I spend the whole drive trying to convince myself that Violet’s right, marking the first time I’ve ever done such a thing.Chapter NineteenVioletI shut the door and don’t move. I don’t even lock it, I just get inside my trailer and freeze, hoping that in a few minutes I’ll thaw out and figure out what the hell just happened.