Page 122 of For Dear Life

I want more of Violet. So much more. But the girl hated anybody touching her until a few weeks ago; I can’t expect to push that aside and launch into the intimacy I’d normally chase.

Often, we sit in the library or one of our rooms, sometimes in silence, other times discussing Violet’s weird thoughts on the world or theories about the situation around us, and the intimacy from that settles the soul she lights on fire at other times. I’ve something I never imagined—a part of Violet she’s happy to share with me.

“There’s a party—” begins Leif.

“Don’t swear around Violet,” I say with a chuckle.

“Party?” She looks at him. “You should go. Catch up with your other friends.”

He blows air into his cheeks. “I can do that another time. Didn’t you say we should all be together tonight?”

“Did she?” asks Grayson in surprise.

“That’s a natural state of affairs,” she says and adjusts the top of her dress upwards. “Despite our complexities.”

Grayson looks away. Haven’t they settled what happened between them at the warehouse?

“I shall inform Holly that we’re leaving, then I’m changing my clothes. Then where do we go?” she asks.

“We could go into town?” I suggest.

“No, thanks. I’ve had my fill of the place and people,” she shoots back.

“I’ve some booze in my room,” says Leif with another grin.

“Go and find your alcohol, Leif. Then bring it to my room. I shall watch with amusement as you intoxicate yourselves. Rowan?”

“What?”

“I’m aware you all believe I’m about to start tiara hunting and possibly frightening people, so at least one of you should walk back inside the academy with me while I find Holly.”

“Uh. Okay. Grayson?” I ask, as Leif already bounds towards Darwin House.

He scratches a cheek. “Yeah, I have a bottle in my room too.”

“Well then,” Violet says and stomps up the steps back into the academy.

“You sure you want us to come to Violet’s?” Grayson asks me, as he watches her go. “I can tell Leif to stay away too.”

I laugh at him. “The chances we’ll do what you’re imagining are extremely remote, Grayson.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know what you do when you’re alone together.”

“Nothing differently to you, I imagine.”

“Has Violet torn your throat, taken your blood, and is now too scared to touch you?” he asks grimly.

“Oh.” I chew my bottom lip. “Sorry. That sucks.”

“Mmm.”

Now I understand the weirdness between them—this isn’t about the attack, but deeper. “I’ll talk to Violet.”

He scoffs. “Put in a good word for me? Nah. I’m fine.”

I hold his gaze. No. He is not.

“Rowan!” calls Violet, not looking back

---