CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THREE

SPENCER POV

I guess hearing nothing could be considered a good thing. Maybe she’s really enjoying herself. Maybe Violet likes drum and bass. Maybe she likes dancing, too. I haven’t yet had enough time to figure that out.

 Maybe she’s having so much fun with Maggie Connor that she’s barely giving me a second thought, and as much as it pains me not to be the centre of her universe every waking minute, I’d be happy for her.

      I want her to be happy. I want her to embrace life, and laugh and love and dance to drum and bass, if that’s what makes her happy.

      I keep working on my spreadsheet.

      Just a few more hours to go.

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VIOLET POV     

Maggie Connor is too drunk to listen to anything much I have to say, but when I tell her at eleven that I might make a move early she seems to hear that loud and clear.

      “NOOO!” she wails and grips my wrist for dear life. “I neeeeed you, bestie!”

      Like hell she does.

 She’s grinding away on Bryan’s friend duncan, trying to smile so coyly like there’s any chance she won’t be fucking him this evening. Bryan is too close to me for comfort, dancing so close with a stupid grin on his face. I dance away a little, trying to keep a bit of distance, but wherever I go he follows.

“I’m serious!” I told her. “I’m going soon, Mags! Spencer will be waiting soon anyway!”

      “I’m so sick of hearing about fucking Spencer!” she snaps.

      And I’m so sick of her bullshit and our one-sided friendship, but I bite my tongue and keep dancing.

 It is her birthday, after all.

I didn't want to ruin it…

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SPENCER POV

My heart is in my throat as the bell tolls midnight. I’m scouring the street, scanning the people walking from club to club for any sight of her beautiful blonde hair. I’ve parked up in the right spot, so there’s no confusion where she should be headed, and I haven’t had any news as to which exact club the girls have settled on, so I daren’t leave my spot to head in her direction, just in case we cross paths and it leaves her in the cold.

      It’s snowing, just a little. The December air is cold enough to numb my face. Just a few weeks from Christmas, and everyone is in high spirits, everyone except me.

I check my phone again. Nothing. I dial her number and it goes straight through to voicemail.

      No big deal. A lot of the clubs don’t have good phone reception, it could be nothing.

      When my mobile shows it’s ten past the hour I know I’m lying to myself.

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VIOLET POV     

 “I’m really going now!” I told her. I hold up my phone screen to show her the time. A quarter to midnight. Plenty of time to get back to the car.

      I can’t wait.

      The night has taken forever.

 Maggie Connor really is drunk now. She can barely stand up, gripping hold of my elbow as she presses her mouth to my ear. “There’s no point,” she tells me and her voice is slurry. The guys laugh, in on some secret joke at my expense, I’m sure.

      “Whatever, Mags, let me take you home. I’m sure Spencer won’t mind.”

      She shakes her head and there’s that cackle she gives me when she’s being a bitch.    

“There’s no point!” she laughs. “He won’t be there!” She clinks her glass against mine. Mine’s the same one I bought when we stepped in the place, and I have absolutely no intention of finishing it. I’m about to tell her that of course he’ll fucking be there, but she’s laughing so hard she wouldn’t hear me. Someone walks over my grave, and I get this horrible sinking feeling, just like I did when I came out of the toilets and knew she was gone. “I changed your clock!” she laughs. “When I had your phone earlier! I changed the clock!”

      My blood runs cold.

  She squeezes my arm. “He makes you so boring, Violet! Curfew this and curfew fucking that. He’s too fucking old! You should be having fun!”

 I hate myself for being so stupid, holding up the handset to find it has no signal in this shitty place.

      “You wouldn’t…” I start, and I’m shaking my head, not really wanting to believe it, even though my gut knows it’s true.

      She holds up her own phone, and she’s so proud. So fucking proud of her asshole move.

      00:53

      Shit. Nearly an hour late.

      I wish the ground would swallow me up.

     “Fuck you,” I say, and I can’t believe the words come out.

      Her eyes are wide even through her drunkenness. “What?!”

      “FUCK YOU!” I scream, and I don’t care anymore. I push my way past her and head for the exit, pushing through the drunk idiots until I get to the cloakrooms, every step wobbly and desperate as my heart pounds and my handset tries fruitlessly to connect to the mobile network.

      A hand on my arm nearly pulls me over, and for a second I’m back in the road as it rains, Daddy Spencer hand startling me from my panic.

      Only it’s not Spencer. It’s Maggie Connor, and she has the fucking gut to look pissed at me. “Don’t fucking go!” she snaps.

      “Leave me alone,” I tell her. “Just leave me alone, Mags.”

      “It’s my BIRTHDAY!” she screams. “You’re my BEST FUCKING FRIEND!”

      But I’m not.

      She’s no fucking friend of mine.

      “I’m not your friend,” I tell her. “You just use me to prop yourself up when there’s nobody cooler.”

      She looks like I’ve slapped her, and I’ve got no time for this. I turn away from her but she won’t let go. “No, Violet! You use me to prop yourself up! None of my other friends want to hang with me because of you.” I don’t want to hear it, but she won’t let go of my wrist. “You know what they say about you, right? They call you simple. They call you a boring bitch. Lisa says you’re so dull that you make her ears bleed. That’s why I have no friends to hang out with, Violet! Because of you!”

      It hurts.

      It hurts like she intends it to.

      But not nearly so much as knowing I missed my curfew.

      “Fuck you, Maggie Connor, I’m done,” I tell her. I’m calm and I mean it. I really fucking mean it.

      I tug away from her and head for the street, and this time she doesn’t follow me.

      “HE DOESN’T FUCKING LOVE YOU!” she screams. “NOBODY DOES!”