Jessica Sorensen - The Destiny of Violet and Luke

Violet

We pick up fast food from this little dive place at the edge of the town that has the best burger, then Luke drives up to the mountains and parks his truck. At first I think he brought us here because he wants to make out more, which seems like a wonderful idea to me, especially since making out in the truck was more thrilling than standing on the edge of the cliff, debating how easy it’d be to tip forward and fall to the jagged rocks below. But then he tells me he wants to hike up a little ways, so I follow him out into the darkness, carrying our take-out bag, while he carries a flashlight from the glove box.

“You know, if I would’ve known you were taking me on a hike, I wouldn’t have worn a dress,” I say, thankful I decided against the heels and opted for my boots.

His boots scuff against the dirt as he sweeps the flashlight across the crooked path in front of us, peering over his shoulder at me. “Personally, I like the dress.”

“I’m sure you do,” I mutter with a smile. I’d put the dress on because I knew he’d like it. If that’s one thing I’m good it at, it’s knowing what guys like.

He smiles over his shoulder and reaches back to take my hand. I stumble forward as he hauls me up to him, then we hike together up the path. It’s late, the sky charcoal dusted with glittering stars. The moon is full and the air chilly, making me wish I’d brought my jacket. We walk silently to the top of the hill where the view of spreads out in front of us. I can see the highway and the city to my side, the lights on the houses making them seem so far away I feel like I’m flying. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he’d brought me here on purpose, because he knew the height and drop-off in front of us would make me feel comfortable and at peace.

Luke lets go of my hand and situates himself on the rock, positioning the flashlight on the ground so it’s spotlighting the sky. I drop down beside him, set the fast-food bag down between us, and stretch my legs out, crossing them at the ankles.

“So is this what a normal first date goes like?” I ask, opening the bag.

He rests back on his hands, staring out at the view. “Honestly, probably not. Most people probably go to the movies or to dinner, but this seemed more fitting for us.”

I grab a fry from out of the bag and plop it into my mouth. “Why? Because we’re weird and dark and out of the ordinary?”

He sits up and rummages through the bag, taking out a handful of fries. “Yeah, pretty much.”

I grab my burger out of the bag and unwrap it. “But what makes you so weird and dark and out of the ordinary, Luke Price?”

He flips the leather band on his wrist with his finger. “Lots of stuff.”

I take a cup of ranch out of the bag and peel the top off. “Why do you always wear that band around your wrist?”

He raises his arm up in front of him, studying it in the light. “Because my sister gave it to me right before she died.”

I start choking on my fry. My nostrils burn as ranch gets in them. “She died?” I cough with my hands pressed to my chest.

He twists his head in my direction. It’s dark so I can’t see anything but the outline of his face and his eyes look like two black holes, but I can picture the intensity in them. “She threw herself off a roof when I was twelve.”

I have a heartbreaking epiphany. “That’s why you were so worried about me when you saw me jump out the window.”

He bobs his head up and down, nodding. “That and the fact that you look so detached all the time,” he says and I suck in a startled breath as I realize just how much he’s seen of me and how we have one more thing in common. Death of a loved one. He instantly reaches over and his fingers encircle my wrist. “Violet, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so blunt… I don’t even know why I said it.”

“It’s okay.” I exhale, telling myself that I’m not going to go down that road tonight. That I’m going to keep it together, no matter what it takes. “I’m sorry. I’m seriously overacting.” In the snap of a finger, I manage to sound calm.

His fingers dig into my wrist, right above my racing pulse. “No, you’re not.” It’s like he understands me, even though he hardly knows anything about me.

I nod my head. “Okay, but I’m over it. I promise.”

He holds on to me a little longer and then releases me. I eat my burger and he eats his chicken sandwich in silence and it’s the most comfortable silence I’ve ever lived in. After we’re done, we ball up our garbage and pile it in the bag. Then he moves it aside so we can scoot closer, our shoulders touching.

“What was your life like before you met me?” I ask, relaxing back on my palms.

He tilts his head to the side, looking at me. “A lot less complicated,” he admits.

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“It’s a complicated thing,” he says and then sighs heavily. “I had this system before you came along and it was working for me, but now that system is gone… With you… you make me feel like I’m falling into this out of control world full of craziness.”

I frown. “You make me sound so insane.”

“No, it’s not like that.” He rakes his hand through his hair, letting out a grunting exhale as he sits up. “God, this is coming out sounding so weird.”

“That’s okay,” I tell him. “Weird is okay with me and there’s no one else around.”

I feel him smile through the dark. “See it’s things like that that make me just want to stay here with you. Because whatever I say never fazes you.”

“We could just sit here in the dark,” I say, trying not to think about the many times I sat in the dark by myself. “The dark can be comfortable.”

“Yeah, we could do that…” He trails off and I feel the air temperature rise as he leans into me. “Do you want to do that? Just sit in the dark with me.”

“Maybe…” I trail off as his lips connect with mine. He tastes different than usual, less smoky and tasting of tequila; instead he tastes salty from the French fries. I can taste the passion of the kiss and heat pools in my stomach. I clutch his shoulders as he pushes his weight into me and forces me down on my back. My head brushes the ground below and dirt gets in my hair as our legs tangle together and he barely supports his weight above me.

He kisses me slowly this time, more deliberately than he usually does. It’s like he’s calculating each movement, each taste, each breath as his hands knot through my hair. He gently tips my head back so his tongue can explore my mouth more thoroughly, gradually, slowly. Jesus, he’s driving my body mad. I can’t think straight, my nails jabbing into his shoulder blades, his lower back, his sides, anything that I can get a hold of as my body becomes more and more impatient.

Then he’s pulling away again, stroking my cheek with his finger, his other hand playing with my hair. “This is nice.”

“You’re starting to sound like a softy,” I say, breathless.

“Didn’t you accuse me of being a softy once?” He continues to play with my hair.

“I did, but I didn’t really mean it.”

“Well, maybe you were right all along.”

“Maybe I was.”

He continues to comb his fingers through my hair, his body positioned over me, and I get so comfortable I almost fall asleep in his arms, right there up on a rock. Then he lifts his weight off me and the cold seeps into my body, waking me right back up. He laces his fingers through mine as he pulls me to his feet with him.

“Where we going now?” I ask, dusting the dirt off the back of my leg.

He bends down and grabs the garbage. “How about home?”

Home. Such a strange word, since nowhere has ever really felt like home to me. “Yeah, home sounds nice.”