9. No Calm, Just Storm

nine

Cam

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

My palm slams against the wooden steering wheel of my absolutely ancient car. Heavy drops of rain pound against the moonroof like someone is pouring a thousand marbles on the glass. Each one makes a loud thunk as it lands and then dissolves into small puddles on the window above me. You would think its midnight, given the dark, dull sky. Black clouds surround me, the late October wind whistling like a forgotten teapot.

"Come on Luigi," I plead. "Don't give up on me now!"

I press the brake pedal down harder, turning the keys one last time, as if the pressure of my foot will magically revive the ignition. But my desperation has no enticing factor to it, and he remains still and silent.

While being stranded in your work's parking lot in a Pacific Northwest storm sucks, I have to be at least a little grateful that it's rain and not snow.

I pop the hood, droplets pelting my cheeks relentlessly as I try to connect the cables of the portable jump starter I found in my trunk to the car's battery.

How does it go again? Red to Neg?

The rain soaks into my clothes as I stare blankly at the cables in my hand. I've never actually had to use these before. Not by myself, at least.

It's definitely Red to Neg… right?

I hook them up, looking at them for a moment before nodding to myself as if to say "Yes, Cam. Looks great." My fingers hover over the little black button, ready to turn on the battery.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Sparky!"

I look up, squinting through the heavy rainfall, and my eyes adjust onto Violet. Her arm shields her eyes from the thick falling droplets as she approaches me.

"You've got it backwards," she says. I stare down at the wires.

I could have sworn it was Red to Neg.

"Oh," I mumble, embarrassed that my boss was seconds away from watching me possibly cause an explosion in the middle of the parking lot. Or whatever happens when you do it wrong. "Thanks."

I unclip the clamps, swapping their positions, and look back at her for approval. She nods, and I hold down the black button on the battery, waiting for the light on the side to shine a luminescent cherry red. Nothing happens. I press it again.

"Do you want some help?"

"No," I say. I've already humiliated myself enough. I press the button again.

"Are you sure?"

I press it again.

"Yeah. I just think maybe—" I press it again. "I think it's dead. But I'm fine."

I try to say this in a tone that comes off grateful for her assistance, but simultaneously tells her to please leave me alone. I think I'd rather be stranded in the rain with a dead battery than ask Violet Wolfe for help.

"I can call Hayden."

Violet frowns, standing directly in front of me now with an unconvinced expression on her face. "Doesn't he live like, thirty minutes away?"

Shit. I forgot she knows exactly who Hayden is.

"Twenty-eight," I mumble, but she's already walking toward her obnoxiously large Jeep. The flooded rain sloshes underneath her off-road tires, and I have to step back to avoid getting splashed when she pulls up in front of me. She hops out, grabs a pair of jumper cables from her back seat, and attaches them properly between her car and Luigi.

"I'm going to start my car, but wait a minute to start yours, okay?" she says. I have no choice but to comply.

I grab a towel from the floorboard and drape it over the driver's seat before climbing inside. My father would roll over in his grave if I sat on the leather soaking wet. Dawson whines in the back seat, scratching against the barricading seat cover. After a minute, Violet flashes her headlights, and I turn the key in the ignition, completely blind.

Violet might be a little cocksure, but I didn't take her for the obnoxiously-bright LED headlights type of person.

Nothing happens, so I twist the key again. Still, nothing from Luigi. Violet hops out of the Jeep, mud splashing up the legs of her jeans as she steps into a puddle. She doesn't seem to care. Reluctantly, I climb out of the dry safety of my own car.

"We can try letting it charge up for a few more minutes," she says, leaning forward to peek under the popped hood. Her eyebrows shoot up, and her gaze flicks over to me, her jaw slack.

My brows drop over my narrowing eyes.

"What?" I ask. Violet shakes her head.

"Dude. Your battery is like, completely corroded." She tilts her head, examining it closer. "How did you even make it to work this morning?"

I know I should probably feel embarrassed, but the only emotion running through my veins right now is defensiveness. It isn't Luigi's fault that his battery is older than me.

I cross my arms over my chest. "I drove just fine."

"Just barely." She points at a spot on the battery, and then another, and then another. "That's a hazard, Sparks."

I scowl at the repetitive nickname, and Violet turns around, climbing into her driver's seat.

"Wait, what are you doing?" I ask, stomping over to follow her.

"I'm turning off my car. We cannot jump start that thing."

A stream of air huffs out of my nostrils.

"What? But I can't just—"

Violet's eyes lock onto mine, her gaze holding me hostage. I squirm uncomfortably, but for some reason, it works.

"Cam, this car is currently undrivable. I'm sorry, but you need someone who knows what they're doing to come replace the battery." She pats the passenger seat, and I swear a puff of dust flies out of it. Not that I'm really in the place to judge the condition of a car. "Hop in. I'll give you a ride home."

I step back from the door, my wet hair rubbing against the back of my neck in a way that drives me crazy. I shake my head.

"I can't. I have Dawson in the car and—"

"Awesome! Reese will have a buddy." She tosses her head to the side. "Get in."

This feels like an absolutely terrible idea. "It's okay. I'll just text Avery. He can—"

"What is this? Stranger danger or something?" Violet hops down, back out of the warm comfort of her car, into the pouring rain. "Look. I'm not going to force you, but I'm also not going to go anywhere until I know you have a safe ride home." She eyes Luigi for a second, then adjusts her gaze back onto me. "I wouldn't put it past someone as stubborn as you to try fixing something you shouldn't."

I want to ask her what exactly she means by "someone as stubborn as" me. But I can't seem to get my vocal cords to tighten in the way they need to get a single sound out. Besides, I'm starting to think that Violet Wolfe is not the type of person you just "say no" to.

I still scowl at her, because how dare she, before I stomp over to my car and practically rip off the handle of the back door. Dawson hops out wearily, crouching as he walks like it will aid him in avoiding the rain. Violet doesn't even try to hide her smirk, and it only makes me more irritated.

"You might look into getting a new car soon," she says, just as I close the Jeep's heavy door behind me. I shoot her a glare and toss my phone, mapped to my address, onto her lap.

"You might look into minding your business for once."

Violet laughs quietly to herself, and I immediately feel bad for snapping, even if she kind of deserved it. Maybe "deserved" is the wrong word, but nobody gets to shit-talk Luigi. She pulls onto the road, and I'm just about to apologize when she starts to speak.

"I'm sorry, I just, I have to ask. Are you this nice to everyone, or just people you make out with in bar bathrooms?"

I swear every blood cell in my body has rushed to the tops of my cheeks. I don't need to look into a mirror to know they are bright red. I suck in a breath.

"Do you make out with everyone in bar bathrooms, or just people whose dresses you spill margaritas on?"

I expect something from Violet. A blush or a frown. Maybe a dissatisfied glance. What I don't expect is the corner of her lip to twitch upwards, as she adjusts her rearview mirror that I know needs no adjusting.

She waits a beat before replying. "No," she says finally. "Just you."

I slump back into my seat silently. Not by choice. I just can't find the words to express to this woman how badly she's getting on my nerves. Especially because I planned to apologize.

"Look," I say, sucking in a shaky breath. If there is any time to address this thing, it may as well be now. "I know about the policy, the no-fraternization or whatever. So, I'm cool with pretending nothing happened. I'd prefer it, actually."

Violet doesn't look at me, but she nods in acknowledgement, tapping the steering wheel with her fingertips like she's listening to an imaginary song.

"Okay," she says after a moment. "Me too."

"Great."

"Great."

I almost feel the same relief I did I quit The Dog Shop. Like I just put in my two weeks' notice of never talking about that night at Monsey's again. Except this one is more immediate, which makes it even better.

Rain drops pelt the windows as Violet steers down the winding roads. I love the way it sounds, now that I'm not trapped inside my own car pleading for it to start. The sound is soothing and rhythmic, a song created by the clouds. As we make the final turn onto Jadewood Lane, Violet clears her throat, and all the little blonde hairs on my body stand straight up.

"Can I ask you something?" she asks, her voice soft. "I promise it'll be the last time I bring it up."

I feel my stomach twist, forming a pretzel inside of my body. Whatever it is, I don't want to know. I don't want to have to answer it. But the promise of her never bringing it up again afterwards is tempting, and I have a feeling that, if I don't say yes, this question will come knocking at my door in a few weeks.

I may as well get it over with.

I nod, and Violet looks over at me before redirecting her focus onto the road.

"Why did you bail that night? Did I—" She scratches her neck. "Did I do something?"

Oh.

The question hits me like a bus. I was expecting her to ask why. I was bracing myself for it, actually. On the road to creating an actual, valid excuse. But I wasn't expecting her to think she played any role in it. If anything, I was simply expecting her to make fun of me.

I swallow, hard. My throat is so dry that I'm tempted to stick my tongue out the window to catch droplets of rain in my mouth. Violet pulls into the apartment complex, sliding the shifter into "Park." Both of our bodies rock forward, then backwards gently from the change of gear. She turns to me, tucking a strand of dark, wet hair behind her ear. My lower lip is raw between my teeth, and I take another shuddering breath.

"I—" My voice is squeaky and high, and I clear my throat, embarrassed. "No. Not at all," I say earnestly. "You—" I let my eyes travel up slowly, until they finally land onto hers. Those gentle, yet powerful, kinetic hazel eyes. "I had a good time with you, a great time actually. And you didn't do anything wrong. It was the opposite, actually. I—" My words get caught in my throat again, not ready to be spoken aloud. I try again, but still nothing. I'm an honest person. I think the truth is more important than just about anything. But for some reason, it simply won't come out. "I got startled by the woman knocking on the door. It just, it kind of freaked me out, and I panicked. I'm sorry."

It's not the most flattering excuse, but it's half-true, and still better than "I've never had sex with a woman and was scared I'd get attached to you." I wait to see that taunting smirk return to her face. Even just a flicker of amusement dancing across those eyes. But it never comes. Violet just smiles at me through those thick pierced lips, and I swear my heart is vibrating in my chest.

"You don't need to apologize," she says softly, her fingers gently brushing across the top of my hand. My breath hitches, and I feel as if I'm frozen in time. My eyes flick up, looking back into hers. We aren't saying anything, but somehow, I can't hear the rain anymore. I can't hear anything but the quiet breaths coming from Violet's lips.

Those soft, thick, round lips that I hate to admit make me ache when I think about them. When I think about that night and how it could have ended. I know it's outside The Realm of Likely Possibilities. Hell, it should be outside of the realm of desired possibilities. But no matter how hard I try, staring down at them now, remembering the sharp pressure of her lip piercing against my jaw, I can't force myself to wish it never happened. In fact, I wish it was happening again right now.

"I should go," I say softly, my gaze darting from her lips to the door handle suddenly gripped in my hand. "Thank you, for the ride."

This is the opposite of what I want to say. The opposite of what I want to do. A massive contradiction to the words dancing on the tip of my tongue, the gravitational pull I feel from her body to mine. But that's what I do best, I think: turn into a helpless deer that sprints away at the slightest scent of danger.

Violet nods, pulling her hand away.

"Okay well, let me know if you need a ride tomorrow?"

I hop out of the car, the thundering sound of pattering rain flooding back into my senses. Wet droplets run down my face, my damp hair sticking to my cheeks in a way that makes me itch.

"Sure," I say. "Okay."

Dawson jumps through the passenger door behind me, and I close it, turning away without another look back.