Page 20 of Calm Before the Score

“Enough.” She leaves my side on the couch to scream at her best friend. “Cool it. We’re hanging out, and it’s none of yourbusiness. I didn’t question you about where you were all night. Let’s not forget that I’m an adultnappingwith a boy on the couch. No rules have been broken.” I chuckle at how parental Hartley is when Violet is concerned.

The fact that this overthinking, planning, anxiety-ridden girl can have a few moments of peace around me means I’m doing something right.

“Is this a thing? If this is a thing, let me know right now. No sneaking around. Be upfront with me,” Hartley says with an eerie seriousness to his voice.

I’m hanging on to Violet’s answer like it is the most important thing in the world. I want her to tell him that she’s mine. The fact that I’m falling for her so fast is alarming. I don’t allow myself to think too much about that because it’s not who I am. I know she isn’t technically mine.Yet.I need more from her to assure me that this is what she wants.

“It might be. That’s for us to decide. Also, you might want to go on a wine run tonight because I accidentally drank all of yours,” she says as she dashes off into her room, squealing with laughter.

“You did what?” Hartley’s voice trails as he chases after her to the bedroom.

Might. I can work with that. I can change might into something more. She’ll be mine before the school year is over. Guarantee it.

17

Violet

The next few weeks fly by with a sense of normalcy. Mondays roll around quicker than I’d like, but I’m in the minority of people who actually enjoy attending class in person on a Monday morning. Class is consistent, and I like that. The routine of class eases my mind. What I don’t expect is Ryan calling an audible, or quick play change in football terms, to sit next to me.

“Good Morning, babe. I brought you something.”

Babe?I selfishly chose not to correct him because I like it.

“A present?”I love presents.I’m too happy about this. He probably thinks I’m desperate.Chill, Violet. This is just the guy who happened to spend the weekend at my apartment, make out with me a few dozen times, and disclose our deepest secrets to each other. No biggie.

“This is the most Violet Evans present I could come up with.” He whips out a pack of tropical-colored flair pens from behind his back. I gasp and fight a smile. Colored pens are heavenly.

“How did you know these are my favorites?” I grab the pack and immediately pop them open to organize them in front of me before class starts.

“Because I watch you, Vi, and these fancy pens make you smile.”

I stare into his dark brown eyes and process what he just said.

Make me happy? He watches me? Smiling?

“Why would you care if I smiled?” I ask genuinely. No one besides my grandpa and Hartley has ever really cared if I smiled or not, much less noticed what makes me smile.

“Vi, if I haven’t made it crystal clear yet, I would do just about anything to see you smile. If I needed to buy out every pack of these things at Target, I would.”

I giggle in the quiet classroom. That draws attention to us from the other students.

“You deserve to be happy,” he says with that million-dollar smile.

Before I can think about all the reasons why we couldn’t work, class starts, and I can’t remember a single word the professor says that day. Ryan pinches my upper thigh under my desk, and it takes everything inside not to giggle. He can’t possibly be paying attention to the professor, either. I mouth the word “stop” with a small smile, and he winks. Scooting a few inches away from his reach doesn’t help much. My mind continues to drift to different scenarios. All of them involve the tattooed football player sitting next to me.

_______________________________________

Class ends, and I’ve retained about as much information as a goldfish. Ryan and I are making the trek back to the parking lot when he abruptly asks, “Do you have any plans tonight?” He slings his backpack over one shoulder.

“Nope. Just getting ahead with studying, but I don’t have any tests this week. Why?”

“I’m taking you out,” he says with confidence.

I tilt my chin down, trying to hide my excitement. It’s just one date. Is it even a date? Or is this an outing between friends? Itdoesn’t mean we’re getting married. He picks ups on the worry painted all over my face.

Grabbing my hand, he stops me to face him. “Calm down. It’s nothing serious. Let’s just get out and have fun.”

“Okay. Sounds good. Where to?” Knowing where we’re going is half the battle. The other half takes place in my closet, picking out the right outfit and makeup combo.

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