Page 54 of Girl Violence

Because everyone leaves. Vince will too.

Lifting her chin with his finger, he leans in, placing the softest kiss on her cheek. Something she feels right down to her toes. “Let’s shut those demons of yours up for a while, yeah?”

“Why?” Why is he bothering?

“Because I need mine to shut up, too, and you’re the only one who makes them.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

Vince leads the way. With his hand in hers, fingers entwined, she struggles to pay attention to where they’re going. Not that it matters. He could take her back to that abandoned building to finish what they started, and she would still let him.

Her heart thumps against her chest, her body shivering from the chill of the night. She’s admittedly exhausted after everything that happened today. Her teeth chatter loudly, causing Vince to stop. Reaching up, he unzips his hoodie and shrugs it off. Stepping closer, he puts it around her shoulders, bringing her back to when he used to let her wear his hoodies. Well, she stole them, but he never complained.

Back then, the fabric smelled of boy—fabric softener and earthy tones from him being outside. But now, it smells of everything Josette shouldn’t like or crave. “I wasn’t hinting or anything.”

“Sure you weren’t,” he teases, holding her hand again.

Josette can’t help glancing at their joined hands as they continue walking. Her lips pull into a smile, wanting this so bad it makes her stomach knot.

They arrive at Vince’s house, and there aren’t any lights on. He lets go of her and removes his keys from his pocket to unlock the door. “Where’s Diane?”

“She wanted to get away from me for a bit,” he admits. Josette’s heart drops. His face is blank of emotion, but she senses he’s hurting deep down.

“I’m sorry she hit you.”

“I deserved it.” He rubs the back of his neck, eyes filling with discomfort. He nods his head to the side. “Come on.”

He switches on the light as Josette follows him inside, instantly smelling paint and dust. The place looks more like a construction site than a house. The walls are stripped of wallpaper, the floors ripped back to the original concrete. Diane is completely renovating.

Josette follows him down the hall, walking behind him into the kitchen. She gasps, eyes widening at the bright luminous orange walls. Vince laughs at her expression. “It’s a bit shocking, isn’t it?”

“Abit?” she questions. “It looks like she violently murdered an Umpa Lumpa.”

“You really just say what comes into your mind, don’t you?” He looks at her in a way that makes Josette blush. It’s true—she does. He’s the exception, though. Maybe she’d be able to tell him how much she’s dying to kiss him again if she did. How badly her body aches just being near him. “But yeah, guess she thought it would calm down when it dried.” He shrugs, snapping Josette out of her thoughts. “You want a drink?”

“Please.” She sits at a little round kitchen table, still looking at the bright walls that are beginning to strain her eyes. It goes quiet, and Josette can’t help but look at him again as he moves around the kitchen. She mentally sighs. Why does he look so good? It’s not fair.

She takes a deep breath, pulling out her phone to distract herself. She texts her dad to tell him she’s staying at a friend’s house. He replies, “Okay,” right away, which surprises her. She expected him to demand she come home.

Tucking her phone back into her pocket, Vince places a steaming hot mug in front of her.

“Hot chocolate? With marshmallows and cream? Someone’s sorry,” she says, teasing him, taking a sip and sighing. It’s nice. Much better than those hot chocolates you pay for in a café. It’s smooth, warm, and chocolaty.

Vince grins amusedly, and Josette frowns. “What?”

“You have a cream moustache.” He points at her face.

She rolls her eyes and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Of course, I do. How cliché.”

He laughs but then stops. Silence soon floats around them. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s filled with unspoken words they don’t know how to speak without crossing the invisible line Vince drew between them. His way of keeping her firmly at arms-length. Something that isn’t working. Not when other things are happening. When he sees her tears and wants to wipe them away. When she sees his pain and wants to make him feel better.

“Iamsorry,” he says finally.

“I know.” She does know. He didn’t mean to get her into trouble—shit happens.

“What did he say that upset you?”

She glances down at her hands before finally admitting, “I expected him to yell at me like last time, but he just looked…tired. He didn’t look disappointed or upset. Just...really tired. As if he’s lost the will to care—”

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