CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THIRTY-TWO

SPENCER POV

I wish she hadn’t gone. I wish she’d have decided for herself that her friend Maggie Connor treats her like a piece of shit on her shoe, keeping her close for the sake of vanity and little minion.

It pains me that a selfish little cow like that has meant so much to my sweet Violet, but I’d dropped her at her friend’s house and kissed her hair and told her to have a good time.

Some lessons in life need to be learned for yourself.

I keep an eye on the clock, even though it’s barely scraped past eight. I keep my phone close by, just in case she calls and wants me to come for her, or if… anything else happens to her.

I concentrate on a month end report just to keep the paranoia at bay. The drunks, and the people popping pills, the people out for an easy fuck with little regard for who they take it from. All things that my beautiful girl is too optimistic about human nature to avoid.

She always sees the best in everyone, and I love her for it. And it worries the shit out of me, knowing she’s out there with the dregs of Saturday night partying with only a non-friend to watch her back, but still, I love her for her dedication in persisting with it.

Midnight.

I’ll see her at midnight.

She has an alarm on her phone to let her know our rendezvous point is looming, and a fully charged battery – I checked before she left. She has enough money to get a taxi within a hundred mile radius, regardless of how many drinks Maggie Connor leeches out of her. And she has me.

I’ll be waiting.

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VIOLET POV

This club stinks. It’s too loud to talk properly, not that I’d be talking anyway. Maggie Connor is already far more interested in some drunk guys than she is about me. Standard.

So much for besties.

So much for Ken, master of the female orgasm, too, seemingly.

I think about calling it off, making my excuses and heading back home to Spencer where I belong.

Where I belong.

It’s so nice to belong somewhere.

It’s interesting that being out somewhere I hate makes it all the more obvious how amazing my life is right now. I mean, I knew it. I know it every minute of every day, but this, this… fake pretence of having a good time… I’m really, really done with this.

This is the last crappy birthday party of Maggie Connor I agree to. Next year she’ll have to find some of her fake friends to hang out with. I’m done.

She introduces me to some wasted guy called Bryan, and I smile politely. Bryan tells me he’s got pills, and I tell him thanks but definitely no thanks, and keep a close eye on my drink in case one of those pills magically ends up in there.

I keep an eye on Maggie Connor’s drink, too, as hard as that is with her swinging it around all over the place as she flirts and grinds and makes a real slut of herself.

It’s barely nine and I’m already bored to tears.

I’m thinking of my warm bed and Spencer’s kisses when Maggie Connor snatches my phone from my handbag.

“Yeah… for real! Creepy old dude bought her this!” She hands it to Bryan and his idiot friend, and I laugh into action that feels so alien to me. I try to grab it back, but Maggie Connor takes it from Bryan’s hand before I can get to it. She holds it out of reach as she flicks through my phone gallery, and my privacy feels so personally invaded that I’m not sure whether I should slap her or cry or both. “She’s got a fucking curfew, too. Like Cinderella. Talk about creepy.”

They laugh.

She laughs.

And for the first time in my life I really hate Maggie Connor so much.

I didn’t even hate her when she left all my things with strangers and bailed on me, but right now, laughing about my life with Spencer and treating me like a silly little joke, I hate her so much I want to storm out and never see her again.

If only I felt okay about leaving her with these creeps.

“Give it back!” I shout over the music. “It’s not funny, Maggie Connor!”

She keeps flicking, as though she’s got every right to snoop, and it irritates me so much I feel sick to my stomach. I have nothing private on there, not really, but that isn’t the point. It really isn’t the point.

She rolls her eyes when she sees I’m not playing, scrolling just a bit more to make a point before she hands it back.

My heart races as I check it for damage. There isn’t any and I breathe in relief.

I check the time before I put it back to safety in my handbag, and it’s only just gone eight o’clock. Shit.

The night is going to take forever.