CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED- THREE

SPENCER POV

She cradles her lunchbox in her lap, looking at it as though she’s never had one before. Maybe she hasn’t.

      It pleases me to see her so taken aback by simple gestures. It’s one of the things I love the most about Violet, the way everything is a wonder, everything is such a gift.

      Spoiling Violet brings me great pleasure.

      Disciplining Violet will easily bring me equal pleasure.

      But I don’t let myself consider that. Not yet.

      Not before we’ve worked out the ground rules.

I pull up at the college and she looks so hesitant.

      “All set?” I ask, and she nods. “I’ll call you at lunch.”

 She nods again, but she doesn’t move. “Thank you, for the ride.”

  “My pleasure,” I tell her, and her little fingers grip the door catch before she changes her mind and leans in my direction.

 Her lips brush my cheek for just a moment, but I feel the contact right the way through to my dick.

      “See you later, Spencer.”

      Spencer.

      That will have to change.

      All in good time.

      I watch her leave, her college bag thrown over her shoulder, her tiny frame wrapped up tight in her new coat. She’s still holding her lunch as she makes her way to the entrance, and it fills me with a sense of satisfaction I’ve been missing for far too long.

      It feels so good to have someone to take care of. Someone to care for.

      Someone to love.

      I’m about to pull away when I see a girl bound up the steps and grab hold of Violet’s elbow. The girl has a mass of dark curls, a face full of makeup, and I know, instinctively, that this must be Maggie Connor. Violet useless, selfish non-friend.

 I see Violet shrug, and Maggie Connor is looking in my direction. She sees the car and says something, and Violet shrugs again before she carries on walking.

      I wait until they’re out of sight before I drive away.

      I think it’s time Maggie Connor was added to the ground rules.

      I will make a mental note of that for later.

•

•

•

VIOLET POV

“So? What the hell, Violet? Who’s the Mercedes guy?”

  Maggie Connor won’t let up, and it’s annoying. It makes me feel awkward and uneasy, like she’s poking at something too private to be shared.

      “That’s Spencer,” I tell her, like my answer stands a hope in hell of cutting it. “The guy who rescued me.”

  “Spencer,” she says. “And what’s the deal with Spencer?”

“He’s looking after me.” I try to outpace her but she’s having none of it.

      “Looking after you, how?”

      “I’m staying with him… while my house gets sorted… you know, the house you gave the key away to, the house that got totally invaded by a load of deadbeats from a shitty club while I was stranded in the rain.”

      She looks so horrified, and I’m glad.

      I nod my head. “Yeah, Mags, that house.”

      “Jeez, Violet , I’m sorry. Mum saw Mrs Vince from down your street yesterday, said your house got all fucked up. I’m a total fucking ass.”

      I don’t reply in the affirmative, even though I probably should. “Spencer’s letting me stay at his place. He sorted me out with some clothes. Brought me to college.”

      She stares at the lunchbox I’m still clutching to my chest. “Made you sandwiches…”

      “Yeah, made me sandwiches.”

      She tugs at my elbow, but I don’t let her see inside the box. “Don’t you think that’s a little…”

      “A little what?”

      She pulls a strange expression. “I dunno, a little creepy? Some random guy rescues you, buys you dresses and packs you a lunchbox. That’s a bit creepy, no?”

      I shrug. “He’s not creepy. He’s really nice.”

      “He could be a serial killer. Daniel Tony was a really nice guy, you know.”

      I laugh. “You’ve been watching too much CSI.”

      “Yeah, and you’re really sweet. Too sweet. Like taking advantage of sweets.”

      She’d be the one to know. If only I was bitch enough to point that out.

      “I may not be worldly wise like you, but I’m not stupid. He’s a nice guy. I like him.”

      And I guess I say like him with a little too much conviction, because her eyes widen and she gives me that look. The interrogation looks.

      “You like him?! Like really like him? Like, you want his dick like him?”

      I sigh, back myself into the wall to let some people pass. “Yeah, I like him. I like him like that.” And now I’ve said it I feel it all over again. The tickles and the flutters. That feeling of burning up. The memory of his body against mine.

 Maggie Connor’s mouth is open, and she looks so shocked. The most shocked I’ve ever seen her look.

  “But he’s… he’s…”

   “He’s what?”

 She struggles for words, which is totally unlike her. “He’s like… old. Like an old guy.”

      “He’s not an old guy.” I laugh, and it sounds so high-pitched. “He’s forty-plus, that’s not old.”

      “My dad’s forty next summer, Violet. Forty. And he’s an old guy.” She sighs. “This Spencer guy’s old enough to be your dad, Violet. Isn’t that weird?” She screws her face up. “Gross.”

 The thought makes my heart pound, as though she’ll know. Know the dirty thoughts I want to keep all to myself.

 “I haven’t really thought about it like that,” I lied. “I just like him.”

“And does he like you?” Her eyes are right on mine, and I can’t lie. I don’t know where to look. “Has he… tried anything?”

  I shake my head. “No… it wasn’t him… it was…”

      “It was what?”

  I feel my cheeks burning, and I put my finger over my lips until another crowd of students pass us by. “It was me…” I whisper. “I… I tried something…”

 The grin spreads right across her face. “You tried something?! For real?”

I nod. “Yeah, and it was stupid, alright? I made a fool of myself.”

 She’s trying not to laugh, I can tell. “I’m sure you didn’t…”

      “Yes,” I say. “I totally did.”

      “And what did he do?” She's smiling so brightly.

      “He… he told me I didn’t have to say thank you that way.”

      “And you don’t, Violet. Using sex for that is totally skanky.”

I don’t even try to work out where Maggie Connor rules on skanky sit. In her world it’s ok to put it about anyone who looks hot after a couple of tequilas, but clearly not to express gratitude that way. It’s ok to ditch a friend to go running after a piece of random dick, but not ok to fancy someone old enough to be your dad.

      “Well, he didn’t take it.”

      “I’ll bet he wanted to, though.” She nudges me in the arm. “He must like you, Violet. Cute little blonde thing like you. I bet he’s jerking off to the thought every five minutes. Dirty old man.” Her laugh cuts right through me. “Seriously, though,” she says, “you should come stay with me, not some random old guy.”

The thought fills me with dread. “I’m good,” I tell her. “I like it with Spencer.”

“Daddy Spencer, making you sandwiches and buying you dresses. Very cute.”

 Daddy Spencer. The thought has me burning up, and my heart keeps pounding and my mouth is all dry.

      I barely register the fact she’s still talking.

      “So, where do you sleep? In his room? Please tell me it’s not in his room…”

      I shake my head. “In his daughter’s room.” I focus on a safer topic, tell her about West’s lovely things, and the writing on her wall, and how great it feels there.

 Maggie Connor totally doesn’t look impressed, at all. Her eyes screw up and she looks at me like I’m some kind of crazy.

“You’re staying in his kid daughter’s room? With pink curtains and a mad hatter tea set?”

  I shake my head. “It’s not his kid daughter’s room now. She’s all grown up. She doesn’t live there anymore.”

 Maggie tips her head to the side, and she’s thinking. It makes me feel uneasy, and I’m glad class is starting soon.

 “So… if she’s not his kid daughter… then she’s an adult now, right?”

      I nod. “Yeah, I guess so. Probably moved away.”

  “So… if she’s grown up… why is her room still like some kiddie shrine? I mean, where’s all her teenage shit? Surely she’d have BTS, boy band or Backstreet Boys posters up on her wall, or some other crap like that. Maybe some makeup… some grown-up kid shit…”

 “Maybe she liked it that way… the way it was…” My answer is lame, and it’s because I don’t have one. Because I haven’t even thought about it.

Haven’t thought about the fact West’s room is still like she’s five or six years old, even though she doesn’t live there anymore, hasn’t lived there for a long time.

“Maybe she lived with her mother…” I ponder aloud. “Maybe she didn’t live there… not all the time…”

      “Still,” Maggie Connor says. “She’d still have some grown-up shit, Violet. I mean, who wants a fairy castle when they’re in high school?”

      Me, I think, but I daren’t say it.

      “I’ll ask him,” I tell her. “About West. I’m sure maybe there’s another room she had or something. Or maybe she didn’t live there…”

 Maggie Connor pulls a spooky face, waggles her fingers like a ghost. “Or maybe she didn’t exist… oooooooh… maybe he’s like the guy from Psycho and you’ll find his dead mother in his cellar…”

    That thought really does make me laugh. “You’re an idiot,” I tell her. “You really have been watching too much CSI.”

      I brush past her to make my way to class, and she follows, shrugs at me. “Tell me that when you realise he’s some freaky pervert and you’re running barefoot to my house as he chases you with his imaginary daughter’s dildo or something.”

“You’re gross,” I tell her, but I’m grinning.

      “No,” she says. “You’re gross. I’m not the dirty little bitch with a creepy daddy fetish.”

 I laugh at her words but I’m not really sure what she means. I mean, she doesn’t know Spencer. Doesn’t know how he saved me, how he cares for me. She clearly doesn’t know how safe I feel when I’m with him.

      “He’d make a really good daddy,” I say.

      She rolls her eyes at me. “Tell him that while he takes your V card, Violet. That’ll really get him off. Dirty old pervert.”

I don’t reply. I can’t reply. In my mind, I’m sitting on his lap, my arms around his neck as he…

      “Violet?”

      I snap back to reality, and the heat in my face betrays me.

      “I’m worried about you,” she says.  

But I’m clearly not even worried.