Chapter 5: Violet

Sam picks me up from my dorm around eleven o'clock before we head over to my grandparent's house on the other side of town. It's about a twenty-minute ride from campus, which means I can pop over anytime they need something.

Or whenever I'm craving a homecooked meal.

Under normal circumstances, Sam and I will talk the entire way. But that's not the case today. Instead, he's oddly silent. Dare I say contemplative? Even though I don't know for sure, and he certainly hasn't mentioned anything about it, I suspect his mood has something to do with what happened at the Sigma party Thursday night.

It's hardly the first time Sam has run off a guy who's been hitting on me. More like the fortieth. And I'm probably being conservative with that estimate.

So, what's up with the weird vibe?

All I know is that I don't like it.

It makes me feel twitchy and nervous. Two things I never am when we're together. There are only a few select people I can be myself with. Mia, my grandparents, and Sam. With them, I can strip away the protective armor I wear for the world and just be me.

Violet Winterfield.

As I dwell on Thursday night, that kiss nudges its way back into my thoughts for the hundredth time. It's ridiculous because it was hardly anything at all. Certainly not something to obsess over.

So what if he slipped me a little bit of tongue?

Who cares?

It's not like we haven't kissed before.

Hell, Sam Harper was my very first real kiss.

It happened in eighth grade at a party in the dingy, cobweb infested closet of Cooper Staub's basement.

Seven minutes in heaven.

And that certainly wasn't the only time we played that game either. It was common with the middle school set. Of course, anything that involved getting your hands on the opposite sex was hugely popular.

After that, we would share little kisses here and there. It wasn't a big deal. Honestly, I've never thought much about it. But that particular kiss feels somehow different, and I can't figure out why.

As those thoughts roll through my head, my gaze shifts to him. Unable to stand the peculiar tension that fills the cab of his truck, I blurt, "Is everything all right?"

His gaze darts to mine and his fingers tighten around the steering wheel on his Ford F-150 as we zip effortlessly through late Sunday morning traffic.

"Yeah, everything's fine." His brow furrows before volleying the question back at me. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Unsure how to put my feelings into words, I shrug. This is exactly what I'm talking about. The sudden tension that has cropped up between us isn't normal. Our relationship has always been easy. And now it feels anything but. "I don't know," I admit. "Thursday night, I guess..." Unsure how to proceed, my words trail off as I gulp down my unease.

Without taking his eyes off the road, Sam reaches out and laces our fingers together. "It's all good, Vi." His deep blue gaze pierces mine before he gives me a slightly crooked smile in return. "Promise."

I huff out a breath as all of the thick tension drains from my body, leaving me almost limp with relief. I hadn't realized how anxious I'd become thinking there could be an issue between us. Sam means everything to me.

A tiny smile tilts my lips upward. "Okay." I need to put Thursday out of my head and forget about it.

Sam clears his throat. "So, I've been thinking about what you said the other night and you're right."

I arch a brow. "I am?" Well...good. That's exactly what I like to hear. The only problem is that I have no idea what I'm right about.

His gaze stays locked on the ribbon of road in front of him. For some strange reason, I get the feeling that he's avoiding eye contact. Sam is usually so straightforward and forthright. "Yeah, you can hookup with whoever you want, and I shouldn't get in the way of that."

I study our entwined fingers all the while turning his words over in my head. What he's saying should be a relief. Sam has been a major pain in the ass when it comes to my sex life. I swear to God, every time I get close to sealing the deal, he magically appears from out of nowhere and within minutes, I'm going home solo.

Again.

A girl can only take so much vibrator action. There are times when you need the real deal.

"I didn't go home with anyone Thursday night." The comment escapes from my mouth before I can think better of it.

His gaze slices to me before bouncing back to the road. "You didn't?"

Is that a hopeful note tinging his voice or am I reading into this?

And why would it even matter?

I shrug before shifting in my seat. "Just wasn't feeling it, I guess."

"Hmmm."

Before I can put the kibosh on my wayward thoughts, they're pouring from my lips. "What about you?" The breath catches at the back of my throat as I watch him from the corner of my eye.

He doesn't glance my way as he shakes his head. "Nah."

His staccato answer has me racking my brain, trying to remember the last time I saw Sam hookup or go out with a girl. My brows beetle together as I silently turn the question over in my mind. Has he even been with anyone this fall semester? What about the summer? Unless he's been keeping the information under wraps, I don't think so.

As I turn my body toward him, ready to give him the third degree, Sam pulls up to the curb in front of my grandparent's large Victorian. When I was a kid, I used to think it resembled a gingerbread house with its cerulean-blue wood siding and lacy white trim that looked like piped icing around the eaves. Deep purple wooden steps lead the way to an inviting beveled glass front door. There's a gleaming white swing that hangs from the covered porch. A round turret flanks the left side of the house, spearing into the sky. It has a comfy window seat with soft pillows piled on top of it. I used to love curling up there on stormy afternoons or when I needed some alone time. It was the perfect little reading nook. Even though I came to this house under horrible circumstances, I have nothing but happy memories of living here with my grandparents.

Hands down, they are the absolute best. I'm lucky to have them in my life. I will forever be grateful to them for being there when I needed them most. It's one of the reasons I decided to stay and attend Barnett instead of going further away. I even offered to live at home and commute, but they both encouraged me to move onto campus and spread my wings.

I don't realize Sam is still holding my fingers until he gives them a gentle squeeze. The gesture has my gaze arrowing to his.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Yup." I hoist my smile. Even though I still get the feeling there's something on Sam's mind, I decide to put it on the backburner for the time being.

The two of us jog up the front porch stairs like we've done hundreds of times before. Without knocking, I throw open the door and peer around the foyer.

"Hello?" I call out. "Gran? Gramps?"

Sam leans toward me before murmuring loud enough for me to hear, "You did tell them what time we were stopping by, right?" He waits a beat, his voice dropping further, "Because I seriously can't deal with walking in on them getting it on again."

With a snort, I elbow him in the ribs. "I thought we agreed to never mention that particular incident again. Do you have any idea how psychologically scarring that experience was for me?"

His eyebrows shoot up, crashing into his hairline. "Yeah, I do because I was subjected to it as well. It still haunts me to this day." He shakes his head as if trying to dislodge the memory.

Yeah, good luck with that, buddy.