The Destiny of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence 3)

He hands me a glass filled with a red tinted liquid. “It’ll calm you down.”

I eyeball the glass warily, feeling the anger simmer. “What is it?”

“Vodka and cranberry.”

“I don’t drink.”

“I didn’t put that much vodka in it.” He continues to hold the glass out with a sympathetic smile on his face.

I snatch the glass from him and spill some on my shoe. I take a few gulps, feeling the burn of alcohol mix with the uneasy burn inside me. I’m adding fuel to the fire. I know this. And I should just dump it out on the ground and walk away.

Instead, I chug the rest of the drink down and then give the empty glass back to Greyson. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He takes the glass and rotates it between his hands. “I get off work in like thirty minutes… you could wait around… come hang out in the bar and we could catch a bus back to the apartment together.”

“Isn’t Seth coming to pick you up?”

“Nah, Luke and he have a party going on at the apartment and I’m sure they’re both too wasted to drive.”

I turn my head and look at him, wondering just how much he heard. Did he hear that my parents were murdered? That I found them. Is there another person in my life now that knows about my messed up past? “How much did you hear?”

“Some, but I promise my lips are sealed,” he says without missing a beat

Is he for real? I stand there quietly, trying to figure it out, but I can barely understand myself let alone someone else. “Okay, I’ll stick around I guess.”

His smile expands. “Okay, get changed and come sit at the bar. I’ll get you another drink.”

I probably should have argued with him, told him that I’m not a nice person when I’m drunk, that my reckless energy magnifies. But instead I nod and follow him back into the restaurant, knowing exactly what I am walking into and not caring.

Chapter 14

Luke

I’m a lucky son of a bitch. I really am, but only because I own my own luck, create it, cheat it. I’ve been gambling for almost a week and a half straight and I’m up to twelve hundred bucks. I probably should stop, but it’s hard once I get riding a winning streak. When I sit down at the table, I control almost everything and I realize how much I’ve missed it.

Violet hasn’t been talking to me much, spending half her time at work and the rest in her room. I try to let her be because it’s clear that’s what she wants but I’m starting to wonder if what she wants and what she needs are entirely different things I can understand to a certain extent wanting to be by myself, but she’s completely secluded herself from everyone, always alone. I’ve tried a few times to make conversation with her, just to have her back in my life and hear the sound of her voice, but she only gives me one-word responses.

I’m still sleeping on the couch, but it’s getting uncomfortable and I haven’t even unpacked my boxes yet, simply because she always has the door locked. I want to barge in there and claim my territory, but then I picture the look on her face when she opened the door after I found out about her parents and I stop myself, shut down my aggravation, reminding myself that it’s not about me and what I want.

For the last week, I’ve been on the phone with my mother every other day. I was ignoring her calls, but after the thirty-something messages cramming my voicemail, I finally started picking up. She’s in one of her moods, where she thinks someone’s after her—a neighbor, the mailman, the police. She did this a lot when I first went to college, calling me to tell me I needed to come home to protect her. She’d toned it down over the past few months, but I think when I told her I wasn’t going home for the summer, she decided to start up again. I’ve been doing my best not to ram my fist into something, reminding myself that I have a place of my own and I can do whatever I want. But every time I hear her voice it reminds me of the past, then the nightmares start up, and more anger floods me.

Friday night, Seth and I decide to throw a party to celebrate our new home and I’m glad because I really need a break from the stress of my life. Violet and Greyson are still at work, we got a living room full of people, music playing, an endless amount of drinks and week-or-so-old pot brownies Greyson made that Seth and him occasionally munch on. I asked him where he got the weed and he said from a friend, but I think Violet gave it to him, which makes me worry she might be going back to that douche. But I’m not going to ask her about it. If she’s that stupid, then she’s that stupid. Not. My. Problem. At least that’s what I keep trying to tell myself, but as always I can’t help think of my past and what drugs and dealing did to my mother—what it turned her into.

I put beer, chips, and some weird fruit platter Seth picked up out in the living room, but keep the hard stuff in the fridge for my own personal use. Then I get a game of Texas Hold ’Em going at the table, milking my lucky streak for all it’s worth. I’ve got a little too many shots of vodka in my system and the kings are starting to look like queens, but I won’t stop playing or drinking, because I’m too f**king relaxed.

There are five other guys at the table, including Seth, who’s not very good at cards, but has fun playing. One of the guys, Jonah something or other, has a blond with really bright red lips sitting on his lap, wearing this tight leather skirt and white top with no bra. She keeps giving me these looks and I’m debating whether I want to hit on her. Jonah said they weren’t dating, just friends, but it’ll still be kind of be weird if Violet walks in and I’m still not sure if I could fully go through with it and get what I’m seeking—a much-needed f**k, one where I’m in control over the situation. Then again, I shouldn’t even be thinking about Violet. We’re not together. We kissed once. So f**king what. It’s time to move on. Get over a girl that has no interest in me… a girl that’s been controlling every one of my thoughts for weeks, at least this is what I tell myself.

As I win the next hand, my intoxication blurs my thought process, and I start working my magic, flirting with the girl across from me, who tells me her name is Kenzie. After a few smiles and compliments, I get her to leave Jonah’s lap and come over to mine.

“You have gorgeous eyes,” she whispers in my ear, thankfully not giggling as she runs her fingers through my hair.

“You better not hurt her,” Jonah says with a laugh as he takes a sip of his beer and studies his cards.