"Thank you for dropping me off," Violet said, watching Ivan walk away. A strange warmth flickered in her chest at the thought of his kindness and generosity, but she quickly dismissed it. *I can't get attached again,* she reminded herself.
Attachment had always been a struggle for Violet. When she let herself get close to someone, she found it nearly impossible to let go—unless pain forced her hand, and that was a burden she didn't want to carry again.
As she drove home, a sense of calm enveloped her, but a nagging thought crept in: What if she moved out? What if she found an apartment of her own?
She knocked on the heavy door, waiting for a response. "Come in," her mother called from within. Stepping inside, Violet found her at her desk, engrossed in a book about Bitcoin, the dim light casting shadows across her features. Each time Violet entered her mother's space, she felt an uneasy tightening in her gut. She longed to escape, as being there meant confronting the remnants of childhood trauma.
"What do you want?" her mother asked, looking up. The sharpness of her gaze felt like it could pierce straight through Violet.
"Mother, would you mind if I moved out into an apartment for some personal business?" Violet's fingers fidgeted anxiously, her palms sweating under her mother's intense scrutiny. She held her breath, bracing herself for whatever reaction was to come. *Is she going to slap me?* The thought sent a chill down her spine.
Her mother set the book down, crossing her arms in that familiar way—a clear sign that a discussion was about to unfold. "And what personal business would that involve?" she asked, her voice laced with skepticism.
Violet took a breath, determined to explain. "Well, now that I'm in college, I thought it would be a great idea to get my own apartment for a fresh start. Plus, if I find one close to work, it would make life a lot easier." As the words flowed from her, she felt a bit of tension ease from her shoulders. Her explanation made sense, but still, she wasn't entirely convinced that her mother would understand. After all, convincing this woman was never an easy feat.
Violet stood in her mother's doorway, heart racing as the words hung in the air. "Well, I was thinking about kicking you out, but since you asked for my permission and everything, I may consider it." Hope flickered within her.
"You will get your answer in two days. Now get out; I need my peace."
As the door clicked shut behind her, Violet exhaled a long-held breath. Freedom, even if temporary, felt like a weight lifted from her chest.
The next morning dawned bright and carefree; it was Saturday, a day famed for campus parties. Ironically, though Violet had never been one for the revelry, she found herself holding an invitation to a party that night. It promised an escape—"You will find your future here. Soothe yourself from all the stress that has built up these past few days with movies, a bonfire, and partying all night!"—and something about those words stirred her curiosity.
"I will go," she murmured to herself, determination blossoming.
Just then, her phone buzzed, the sound slicing through her thoughts. It was Sophia.
"Hey, girl! What's up?" Sophia's voice danced over the line, the vibrant pulse of music pulsing in the background.
Violet could already guess where her bestfriend was. "Are you at the club again this early?"
"It's morning; it's only 11!" Sophia retorted, her voice thick with energy and perhaps too much late-night fun.
With a sigh, Violet replied, "Gimme a second; I'll come right away. Stay where you are." This had become a ritual—the late-night escapades followed by her unofficial role as Sophia's personal chauffeur.
As Violet stepped into the club, the air was thick with the scent of alcohol, mingling with the haze of smoke and the sounds of laughter and music that pulsed through the dimly lit space. Bodies swayed rhythmically on the dance floor, couples leaned into each other, lost in their own worlds of attraction, while others shouted over the noise, their voices barely penetrating the overwhelming atmosphere.
She scanned the crowd, her heart racing with anticipation until she finally spotted Sophia, sprawled on a bench at the far end of the room. A guy's hand rested casually on her shoulder, his attention absorbed by sophia beside him, who was barely standing herself.
"Please get your hands off her," Violet demanded, her voice cutting through the din as she approached.
The guy turned to her, a cocky smile spreading across his face. "Or what, pretty princess?" he challenged, his grip on Sophia remaining unyielding.
"I'll call security," she warned, the threat heavy in the air. It wasn't just her friend's safety at stake; it was the principle of standing up for what was right. "Just move your hand. I need to take her home."
He stood up slowly, a cigarette dangling from his lips. With a deep inhale, he leaned in, blowing the smoke right in Violet's face, the foul stench of stale tobacco and alcohol making her gag. Clutching her chest, she coughed uncontrollably, her vision blurring as she looked down, feeling a wave of frustration wash over her.
Just then, a firm grip caught the guy's wrist—a presence that cut through the haze. Violet didn't recognize Ivan immediately; she was still battling the remnants of that bitter smoke.
"You heard her, and what's with those manners? You're old and saggy; aren't you supposed to set an example for the juniors?" Ivan spat, an undeniable edge to his words
Violet finally managed to catch her breath and looked up. The realization hit her like a breath of fresh air. "What are you doing here?" she asked, confusion flooding her voice as she tried to piece together the unexpected moment.
"I'll explain later," Ivan replied, glancing at Sophia's disheveled state. "But first, get her to your car."
"Yeah, sure," Violet responded, wrapping Sophia's arm around her neck, trying to support her weight. Struggling slightly under sophia drunkenness, she felt an unexpected wave of relief wash over her at Ivan's presence.
"Come on, girl, walk," she urged, feeling the warmth of friendship bolster her resolve.
As Violet waited in the parking lot, her gaze scanned the entrance of the club,r. Finally, she spotted Ivan emerging, and a rush of gratitude propelled her out of her car. She approached him with a small smile, a softness in her eyes that masked the deeper appreciation she felt. Inside, she wanted to flash him a bright, beaming grin, to fully convey her thanks, but that wasn't really her style.
"Ivan, thank you for back there," she said, her voice warm yet measured.
"Yeah, no problem," he replied, his tone a touch more nonchalant than usual. Ivan had always carried a certain air of detachment, but tonight it seemed amplified, as if he were truly unfazed by the world around him.
Violet tilted her head slightly, curiosity getting the better of her. "One question: how did you know I was here?" She couldn't shake the wonder; how had he known to find her?
Ivan shrugged, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Well, I realized I was behind your car five lights back. When I saw you take the turn into this lot, I figured you wouldn't just be here randomly, so I thought I'd follow. Glad I did," he added, tilting his head to match hers, a playful mirroring that brought a hint of ease to the moment.
Violet smiled, feeling the warmth of the moment, especially as Ivan playfully mirrored her head tilt. She couldn't help but chuckle.
"Anyway, thank you again. I didn't realize you had such a sharp tongue," she said, trying to frame her words delicately. "You know, in a respectful way, of course."
She replayed the scene in her mind—the way Ivan had curtly delivered a particularly cutting remark. He scratched the back of his head, avoiding her gaze.
"I got it from my older sister," he sighed, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his voice. "She has a pretty mean mouth."
Violet considered this for a moment. "Your sister sounds interesting. I think I'd like to be friends with someone like her."
Suddenly, a dry heaving sound erupted from the backseat, followed by the unmistakable sound of vomiting. Violet whipped around to see Sophia, clearly overwhelmed and having lost her battle against the alcohol.
"Ugh, Sophia! You're cleaning this up tomorrow!" Violet exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief as she hurriedly opened the door to let the fresh air in.
Turning back to Ivan, she sighed, "Well, I have to get this girl home. Hopping inside her car. See you around!"
As she waved goodbye and drove away, Ivan felt a sense of ease wash over him. Watching Violet's car pull away, he couldn't shake the feeling that their paths would cross again.