Step Too Far Ch. 02

*All the characters in this story are 18 and older. This is a story that follows a pair of STEP-SIBLINGS. They are not biologically related. I'm sorry if this isn't what you are looking for. I know many readers prefer stories with characters who are actually related, but I believe a story with stepsiblings can be just as compelling and just as forbidden. To all those who read this, I hope you enjoy.*

Violet woke slowly, unwillingly. Her eyes were crusted from sleep, and her mouth was as dry as cotton. The air felt too warm, and her head pulsed with a dull ache that made her temples throb. She groaned as she rolled onto her back, blinking at the ceiling like it might offer some clarity. The hangover was light, but insistent, like her body wanted to punish her just enough to remind her what she did. The wine... the movie... Noah.

Nausea rose in her throat as images came in flashes--his mouth on hers, the weight of him between her legs, the way his voice sounded when he whispered her name like it was a secret. She clutched her blanket tighter, as if she could wrap herself in denial and shame and erase it all. But she couldn't, because Noah had kissed her, and she had kissed him back, and what's worse... is that she had wanted to. She sat up slowly and pushed her comforter down to her lap. Her shirt was wrinkled and loose at the shoulder, exposing her collarbone. She pulled it back up with shaking fingers and stared at her bedroom door, her heart beating violently at the anticipation of what possibly waited for her on the other side.

She got up quietly and felt the cold hardwood under her feet. Her head swam a little as she crossed the room, stumbling slightly as she opened her door just enough to peek into the hallway. Noah's door was shut, and that told her everything. It was always open when he was gone, wide or cracked, never closed. The only times it remained closed were when he was asleep or didn't want to be disturbed. She tiptoed past it, holding her breath as if taking in oxygen would somehow give her away, and walked into the bathroom.

Inside, she flicked on the light and squinted against it. The mirror greeted her with the same familiar girl. But something was off. Her hair was a mess, matted a little on the back. Her shirt looked like she had been pulling at it in her sleep. Her lips looked fuller somehow, and there was a dried cut on her bottom lip from when she bit it. She leaned in and studied herself further. Same eyes. Same face. Yet, something was still different.

Her fingers ran over her lips, remembering the fire she felt when Noah's lips were on them. She closed her eyes, trying to breathe past it, trying to pull herself back into her body. She wasn't the kind of girl who did things like this. She wasn't bold or reckless or seductive, and she certainly wasn't the type to think it was ok to do anything with a taken man... especially a taken man that was her stepbrother. Violet was quiet, bookish... safe. But that version of her felt blurry now, and she didn't know what to do with the girl in the mirror who had moaned for her stepbrother under a blanket just hours ago.

What's wrong with me?

She opened her eyes, forced her hands to the sink, and turned on the water. As she splashed cool water on her face, one thought cut through the rest like a knife.

I don't want it to stop.

Violet brushed her teeth, then eased the bathroom door open to peer down the hall. Noah's door was still closed, which made her let out a quiet sigh of relief. She wasn't ready to face him yet, to face her guilt, or her desire. She padded back into her room, grabbed her phone off the nightstand, and tiptoed down the stairs, each creak of the wood feeling louder than the last. The kitchen felt colder somehow--like the house knew what she'd done. She opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap with trembling fingers before she pulled out a chair from the kitchen table to sit.

Her phone lit up as she checked it, and her eyes widened as she re-read the message she forgot was sent to her last night.

Bri - 11:24 PM (last night)

How's movie night with QB1? Still awake or already nerding out over time travel trivia?

Violet stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. Her heart beat a little faster, and she swallowed, the act reminding her just how dry her throat was. She gulped her water like she was a traveler lost in the desert, only stopping to breathe. Then, she started typing.

Violet:

Can you come pick me up?

When she hit send and watched the message go through, a tight feeling twisted in her stomach. She couldn't be here. She couldn't handle being in the same house as him, breathing in the same air, having him possibly look at her and avoid her, making her feel even worse.

A minute passed, then another. No response. She flicked back to her home screen and refreshed her notifications. Nothing. Violet nervously tapped her foot as she tapped to call Bri. It rang once, then straight to voicemail. Fuck. She hung up quickly, her fingers trembling now. She glanced toward the stairs, toward the hallway that led to Noah's room.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

She hit call again, and this time it rang twice. A groggy voice finally answered. "Violet?" Bri slurred, still sounding half asleep. "It's Saturday. Why are you calling me before noon?"

Violet flew up from her chair, almost knocking it over, and began pacing the length of the kitchen. "Can you come pick me up?" Her voice came out tight and breathless.

There was a pause. "Wait, what? What's going on?"

Violet opened her mouth to respond--but then she heard it. Floorboards creaking upstairs.

Her eyes shot to the ceiling as she heard another step. Then another. No. Not now. Please not now. Bri's voice filtered through the phone. "Hello? Violet? You okay? What's--"

"I'll call you back," Violet whispered. Then she ended the call and set her phone face down on the counter just as she heard Noah start to descend the stairs. Each creek was amplified in the silence of the kitchen. She stood frozen, her hands gripping the edge like it might hold her upright. When he entered the room, she couldn't bring herself to look at him. She stared at the floor, hearing his steps slow. He crossed the threshold without saying anything. The hum of the refrigerator filled the space between them, soft and low.

"I'm sorry," She heard him say, his voice low and careful. Violet took a deep breath as she turned to look at him. Noah looked... tired. The kind of tired that wasn't about sleep. His hoodie hung loose on his frame, and there was tension in his jaw, like he'd been clenching it for hours. Violet tried to find something to say--anything to lighten the tension between them.

" It-it was the wine," she said quickly, waving her hand like it could undo the memory. "We were drunk. It was late. It was... a mistake." He didn't argue, but he didn't agree either.

"It won't happen again." She continued as she folded her arms around herself, her gaze going back to the floor. The tension was too much for her; she began flexing and extending her toes on the cool tiled floor, an action to keep her grounded and ease the nervousness that was swirling in her stomach. There was a pause, and neither of them moved. Then something inside of her burst, unable to be contained any longer. "I feel so guilty."

Noah's brows drew together, but he stayed quiet, letting her speak. "I'm your stepsister," she continued, barely above a whisper, the words tasting like poison as they left her lips. "And you have a girlfriend. Amanda might be awful to me, but she's still... she's still your girlfriend." She felt tears forming, and she quickly blinked them away. "What we did was wrong. What I let happen. What I--" She broke off, squeezing her eyes shut, knowing she couldn't stop herself from crying.

Noah stepped closer, not touching her. Just near. His voice stayed soft. "Hey... V." She shook her head and moved away from him as tears began to fall down her cheeks.

"Don't. Please don't make it okay. It's not okay."

"I'm not trying to make it okay," he said gently. "I just don't want you blaming yourself like you did something terrible."

Her hands curled into fists. "Didn't I?"

Noah looked at her, and something in his eyes shifted. Not pity. Not regret. Just... understanding. "You weren't alone in it," he said. "I kissed you, too." Her breath caught again. It would've been easier if he'd denied it. If he pretended it hadn't meant anything. But he didn't.

Violet shifted on her feet and wiped away her tears before she spoke again. "I heard you two arguing last night."

Noah let out a slow breath and leaned back against the opposite counter, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah," he said. "We've been... arguing a lot lately." He sounded frustrated.

"She's different lately," he continued. "Or maybe she's always been like that, and I just finally noticed. All she cares about is being seen--like, perfect pictures, perfect outfits, perfect boyfriend. Everything's about status and cheerleading." His voice had an edge now. "She talks like she's still in middle school. Everything's about who's hot, who's gross, who's worth paying attention to."

Violet was unsure what to say, uncertain if she even wanted to know where this was going.

"She got mad last night," Noah said. "Because I told her I couldn't hang out. That I had plans."

He glanced at her, then back down to the floor. "I told her I was watching movies with you." Violet's heart skipped, but she stayed quiet. "She laughed. Said..." He hesitated, his jaw tightening. "She said, 'Why would you waste your night with that sad little freak?'" The words hit Violet like a slap, making her face burn. Noah's voice came again, firmer now. "And I told her to shut the hell up."

Violet gasped at what she heard. Did he really say that? "You... you did?" she asked.

"She kept going," he said. "Talking about how you're 'always alone,' how you dress like a widow, how you 'probably don't even own mascara.' Just... mean, pointless crap. I told her to stop talking about you like that, and that I wasn't going to sit there and listen to it."

Violet swallowed hard, blinking fast as fresh tears threatened to fall. What Amanda said stung, but Noah had defended her, not once, but twice. Noah watched her for a long moment before adding, quieter this time, "I'm not sure why I didn't see it before. Or maybe I did. I just didn't care enough to say something." He looked at her then--really looked--and something about his expression made her chest ache. "I care now," he said.

Violet's breath caught in her throat as she stared at him. "Why?"

Noah blinked. "What?"

She looked him up and down, searching his face. "Why do you care now?" There was a pause, a long one, but Noah's eyes didn't leave hers.

Then, finally, quietly, he said, "Because I like you." Violet's eyes widened, unsure if she heard him right. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck again, his eyes dropping to the floor like he regretted saying it. But then he continued. "I like you Violet... and not just as a stepsister." Violet's stomach flipped. He looked up at her again like he expected her to bolt, but he didn't take back what he said. He just stood there, his breath steady, and waited for her to respond.

Violet did want to run. She didn't know what she was supposed to say, or feel, or even want. But her heart pounded harder than it had all morning. Because no matter how wrong it was, she wanted him to say it again.

"You like me?" she repeated. "But... we barely talk. You barely even look at me." Her arms remained folded around her. "You've lived down the hall for years, Noah. You only speak to me if Dad or your mom's around. Half the time, I think you forget I'm even in this house." She didn't mean it to sound accusatory, but it came out that way anyway. There was no bitterness in her eyes. Just disbelief--A fragile flicker of hope she didn't want to admit was there.

Noah shifted his weight, his hands flexing at his sides. "I know," he said quietly. "I know I ignored you. I kept you at arm's length on purpose."

That made her frown. "Why?" she asked, voice softer now. "I've never done anything to you."

Noah looked away for a second, like he was trying to find the right way to say something that had lived in his throat for too long. "You're right. You didn't do anything, V," he said. "That was the problem." He stepped to her, just enough to bridge the space between them without touching her. His voice was lower now, vulnerable in a way she'd never heard from him. "You were... quiet. Smart. Kind. You never asked for attention like Amanda does, or like any other girl who tries to flirt with me. You were just there, in your own world, reading your books, doing your little clubs, always doing the right thing--and I noticed."

Her breath caught again. "I noticed all the time," he admitted. "And it messed with my head, because I wasn't supposed to." Violet stared at him, too stunned to even know what to say.

"You think I don't look at you?" Noah said, his eyes still on hers. "Violet, I've been trying not to look at you for three years." Violet's eyes widened. Her chest felt too tight for the air she was pulling in. He'd been trying not to look at her? For three years?

Her mouth opened, but no words came out at first. Then, slowly, they tumbled forward. "Noah... you--you can't." She moved away from him again, shaking her head, though her heart was still thundering. "You're still with Amanda. You kissed me. That's--" Her voice caught. "That's cheating." She sat down at the kitchen table again and ran a hand through her still-tangled hair. "And I'm your stepsister."

Noah didn't say anything. He just stood there, his gaze steady, like he wasn't going to interrupt what needed to come out of her. Violet gave a helpless laugh, one that shook with every feeling she couldn't process. "It's like I'm your..." she paused, making a face, "... sister mistress."

Noah blinked, then, to her surprise, laughed. It was quick and warm, cracking through the tension like light through a storm cloud.

Violet stared at him, startled. "That's not funny."

"It kinda is," he said, grinning now. "Sister mistress? That's... that's messed up."

"Exactly!" she said, flustered as she fought a nervous smile. "It's so messed up."

They both fell quiet again, and Violet rested her head in her hands, trying to get her thoughts together before she looked at him again. This wasn't real. She had to be still dreaming. There was no way Noah had just told her he... thought about her. That he LIKED her. She rubbed her face before finally raising her head. Noah rubbed the back of his while she sighed, trying to figure out what to say himself. "Look. I know it's a mess. And I know I shouldn't have kissed you... but I don't regret it."

Violet felt her stomach flip. She was right. This was definitely still a dream.

"I do regret hurting Amanda," he said. "Even if I think we're not right for each other anymore." He kept his eyes on her as he reached for the chair opposite her, searching her face for any hint that she didn't want him to sit. When there was none, he pulled the chair out and sat. "But I don't regret you."

Violet opened her mouth, words rising to the edge of her tongue, but her phone buzzed on the table, cutting her off. She glanced down at the screen.

Dad.

Her stomach dropped a little, like the universe had a sixth sense for when she needed a reality check.

She answered. "Hey."

"Hey, kiddo," her dad said warmly. "Just wanted to give you a heads up--we're already halfway back from the lake house. We should be home by noon."

Violet's eyes flicked to the stove clock.

11:38.

She tried to keep her voice even. "Okay. Sounds good."

There was a beat of silence on the line. Then her dad asked, "How was your night?"

Her eyes shifted briefly to Noah, who remained seated across from her, watching her with unreadable eyes. She turned in her chair, looking out the window instead. "It was fine," she said after a pause. "I, um... I just watched Back to the Future."

Her dad chuckled. "Still your favorite, huh? You've probably got half that trilogy memorized by now."

Violet forced a smile, even though he couldn't see it. "Probably."

"Well, we'll see you in a bit. Love you, Vi."

"Love you too."

She hung up and turned in her chair. "They'll be home soon." He nodded, his jaw tight for a moment like he was holding back whatever he wanted to say next. Before either of them could speak again, her phone lit up once more.

Bri.

Noah looked at the screen, then back at her. "Go ahead and take it," he said as he stood. He reached into the pantry and grabbed a Pop-Tart. She watched him with her thumb over the answer button--until he added, voice lower now, "Can we talk more tonight? After they go to bed?"

Violet just stared, trying to read the seriousness in his tone, and then she nodded. "Yeah," she said softly.

Noah gave a small, quiet smile, something almost shy in the way his eyes met hers. Something that made Violet's heart flutter. Then he tore open the Pop-Tart package and walked out of the kitchen, heading back upstairs. Violet's eyes remained on him as he left the room and ascended the stairs. She heard the faint click of his bedroom door shutting and let out a loud, shuddering exhale, gathering herself before finally answering Bri's call.

Violet pressed the answer button and brought the phone to her ear. "Hey," she said, aiming for casual.

"Finally!" Bri's voice came through, this time bright and full of energy. "I've been waiting for like an hour! What was with the urgency earlier?"

"Nothing," Violet said as she got up to grab her half-drunk water bottle, finishing it off. "Just me being overdramatic."

There was a pause, and Violet swallowed, hoping Bri wouldn't press any further. "Ok...," Bri responded. "Well, did you see my text last night? Did movie night actually happen? Or did you chicken out and spend the night writing about time-traveling violin girls again?"

Violet let out a small laugh, the kind that sounded too rehearsed in her own ears. "No, we watched the movies."

Bri gasped. "All three? Violet Andrews, I am shocked."

"Just two. I fell asleep during the third one."

"Still. Look at you being social. With your stepbrother. I mean, weird flex, but I'm proud."

Violet rolled her eyes as she walked over to the fridge to grab an orange, trying to keep her voice even. "It wasn't that big of a deal."

"Uh, yes, it was," Bri said. "You've lived with him for years and barely speak to each other. I honestly thought he didn't know your name."

Violet forced another laugh. "Well. Now he does." She cradled her phone between her shoulder and cheek as she began peeling her orange, the citrus scent flooding her nose.

"So?" Bri pushed. "Was it awkward? Did Amanda show up and try to cheerleader-kick you in the face?"

"No, she wasn't here," Violet said quickly.

"Huh. Maybe he actually wanted to spend time with you." Bri paused, then teased, "You sure you two aren't bonding over some weird sci-fi sibling telepathy?"

Violet's heart skipped, but she kept her voice light. "Ew. No."

"Alright, alright." Bri laughed. "Anyway, wanna hang out later? Get out of that house and maybe buy something that isn't black and oversized?"

"I might be busy," Violet said without thinking.

"Busy doing what? Rewatching Back to the Future for the 900th time?"

Violet hesitated. "Maybe."

Bri sighed dramatically. "Fine. You're mysterious and unavailable now. I get it. Just don't forget me when you're famous for your weird sci-fi romance novel."

"I won't."

"Text me later."

"I will." Violet hung up and set her phone down on that table again, then finished peeling her orange. The kitchen was quiet again, and she looked toward the stairs, and for some reason, she had hoped to see Noah coming back down to her. She still didn't understand anything that was happening. She couldn't believe that this was even real. She broke off a piece of her orange, the citrus tang filling her mouth as her thoughts swirled- about Noah, about everything that had shifted and cracked open between them. What was this now? A known mistake? A forever kept secret? A new beginning?

Violet finished her orange and stood to walk towards the stairs. She stopped at the bottom for a moment, her fingers trailing along the edge of the banister. Then, slowly, she ascended. Each step felt heavier than it should have, like her body was still catching up to everything her heart hadn't figured out yet. When she reached the top, she didn't glance at Noah's door. She didn't have to. It was closed again, same as usual, but now it felt like something new. A sealed box full of things she wasn't supposed to want.

She stepped into her own room and closed the door behind her. She made her way to her dresser drawers and opened the top drawer with more force than she meant to, grabbing a clean bra, underwear, and socks. Then, she moved to her closet, eyes scanning rows of black. Black hoodies. Black leggings. Faded graphic tees. She sighed as she pulled out a pair of dark jeans and a long-sleeved fitted shirt that still smelled faintly of lavender detergent. It clung to her arms and chest a little more than she was used to. Maybe it shrunk.

She sat on the edge of her bed and brushed her hair out with quick, frustrated movements.

What was she even doing?

Her thoughts swirled, bouncing from one emotion to the next.

Noah kissed her. No--she kissed him back. She let it happen. She wanted it to happen.

She pressed her fingers to her lips again, remembering the feel of his mouth, the warmth of his hands. Then the guilt came, like it always did - A dark tide washing over her and pulling her out to the depths of the sea.

He's your stepbrother.

He has a girlfriend.

You've done something terrible.

But then--

He said he liked her.

More than he should, and God help her, she liked that he said it. She wanted him to say it again. Even now. Even after everything. She pulled her hair into a low ponytail, took a breath, and sat cross-legged on her bed, pulling her laptop onto her legs. She pulled her hoodie tighter around her as her fingers hovered above the keyboard, focusing her mind on her story. She exhaled and began to type.

The mirror on the far wall began to shimmer. The violin sobbed its final chord--and the candle flickered blue.

Then she heard his voice.

Violet paused, her fingers hovering over the keys. She closed her eyes and pictured him- how he'd looked before. Not frail. Not fading. Whole.

She began to type again.

"Hello, Sister."

He stepped through the veil like it cost him nothing. Tall, shoulders straight. No sunken skin. No hollow eyes.

Emanuelle.

He stepped through the glimmering veil as if it cost him nothing. As if death had never truly claimed him. He stood tall once more, his back unbent by agony, his face no longer gaunt with fever. The hollows beneath his eyes were gone; his skin, pale though it was, had lost that grey, sunken cast she had come to dread in his final days.

"You're--" Her voice cracked like frost on glass. "You're not sick."

He smiled, faintly, and it nearly undid her- that smile she had mourned, carved now in the stillness of the grave. "Not anymore."

She stumbled toward him, heart pounding, and reached with trembling hands. But when her fingers met the space where his chest should have been, they passed through mist. Cold. Empty. Still, he remained. She sighed as her hand slowly lowered to her sides. "You look older," she whispered. "Stronger."

His eyes, always too wise for his years, met hers. "Death makes you grow up fast."

"Don't jest," she whispered harshly, as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. "Please- don't."

"I'm not," he said, his voice soft as candle smoke. A shadow passed through him then, something heavier than death. "It wasn't consumption. Nor fever. Nor any illness of the flesh."

Her hands curled into fists. Her knuckles turned white against her skirts.

"Then what?" Her voice shook. "Tell me, Emanuelle. What took you?"

He looked at her for a long moment, as though weighing whether the truth was a gift or a curse. "It was deliberate," he said at last. "I was poisoned."

A gasp clawed its way up her throat. The flame on the candle guttered violently. "No... no, that cannot be. The doctors--"

"Lied," he said. "Or were made to lie."

The room pressed in around her - the high ceiling, the heavy velvet drapes, the scent of wilted lilies left from the funeral. All of it began to spin. "Who?" she breathed. "Why?"

But he only watched her, sorrow etched into the angles of his face. "That, my dear sister," he said gently, "is what you must uncover."

Violet heard the front door open below-keys jingling, the familiar sound of her dad's boots scuffing against the entryway tile. "We're home," she heard Noah's mom yell. Her body tensed instinctively, and she stayed frozen where she was, laptop still open, her story half-glowing on the screen. She heard Noah's door creak open across the hall, then his footsteps- slow and steady-passing her room and heading down the stairs. She couldn't make out what was being said, just faint voices floating up through the floorboards. Her heart thudded in her chest, already knowing her father's voice would come next.

Then, there it was. A gentle knock, followed by her bedroom door opening. "Hey, sweetheart."

Violet looked up from her bed, trying to appear calm. "Hey, Dad."

He stepped inside, placing his hands in his pockets. "How's your day been so far?"

She offered a small smile. "Good. Just... writing."

He nodded, eyes scanning the soft glow of her laptop screen. "I don't know how you come up with all those stories. You've always had such a brilliant imagination." His voice was warm, proud.

Violet's smile faltered slightly. "Thanks."

There was a pause, then her father shifted his weight and lowered his voice. "Did Noah have Amanda over last night?"

The question hit like cold water, and Violet's breath caught. "No."

Her father nodded, satisfied. "Good. His mom told him she wasn't allowed over while we were gone." He shook his head slightly. "That girl... I don't know what he sees in her." Violet bit the inside of her cheek. Then her father's voice softened even more. "I never have to worry about you, though." He smiled and leaned closer to brush a strand of her hair back from her face with a light touch. "You're my good girl."

The words punched her right in the chest. Violet looked down quickly, her stomach twisting. Good girl. If only he knew. He stood for a moment longer, watching her, then asked, "You gonna be writing the rest of the day?" Desperation sparked in her. She couldn't stay in this house-not after that, not after everything.

"Actually... I'm hanging out with Bri today," she said quickly.

Her dad raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Yeah? Look at you leaving the cave. I'm glad. You need time with your friends."

She nodded, already reaching for her phone. "Yeah. I'll be back by ten."

"Deal." He kissed the top of her head before he stood and walked to her door. "Text me if anything changes." Then he left, pulling the door softly closed behind him.

Violet waited until she heard his footsteps fade, then immediately called Bri. It rang twice before Bri answered. "Whoa. Violet?"

"I want to hang out," Violet said, her voice louder than she meant.

There was a pause. "... Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"What do you want to do?"

Violet looked around her room, at the too-familiar walls, the suffocating quiet, the laptop still glowing with a ghost story that suddenly felt too close to home. "Anything," she whispered. "Anything at all."

***********

Violet didn't hesitate. The moment she saw Bri's car pull up to the curb, she all but ran out the door and down the driveway. She yanked open the passenger door and slid inside, slamming it shut behind her like she was sealing herself off from something.

Bri blinked. "Whoa. You okay?"

"I'm fine," Violet said quickly as she buckled her seatbelt, refusing to meet her friend's eyes.

Bri raised an eyebrow but didn't press. "Okay... well, I was thinking the mall. Not that I have any money or anything, but sometimes window shopping cures the soul."

Violet stared out the windshield. "I'm not really in a shopping mood."

Bri grinned. "Didn't think so. You own like, five outfits. And they're all the color of depression."

Violet cracked a tiny smile as she finally looked at her. "I was gonna suggest food anyway," she added. "You hungry?"

Bri made a face. "I'm always hungry. But also always broke."

"My treat," Violet said softly.

"You sure?"

Violet nodded. "Yeah. Please."

Bri paused, like she wanted to ask more, but instead she just reached for the aux cord and handed it over. "Okay then. You pick the music. And no tragic violin covers or broody film scores. I'm in the mood for fries and bad pop music."

Violet took the cord with a small, grateful smirk. "Deal." As Bri pulled away from the curb, Violet leaned back in her seat, her eyes glued to the sky outside the window. The guilt still clung to her ribs, but the rush of wind through the open crack of her window and the buzz of Bri's presence beside her gave her something to hold onto. Something almost normal.

The car's old speakers crackled faintly as a catchy pop song filled the space between them. Bri drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. "Okay, so tell me- on a scale from one to ancient Rome, how doomed are we for that history paper?"

Violet snorted. "Like... medieval plague doomed."

Bri groaned. "Ugh, thank you. I swear Mr. Gates assigned it just to watch us suffer. Why do we need eight sources for a five-page report? It's not like we're submitting this to a museum."

Violet smirked. "I already picked my topic."

"Of course you did." Bri cut her a playful glare. "Let me guess- something dark and dramatic? A haunted castle or, like, a famous witch trial?"

"The psychology of propaganda during World War II."

Bri blinked. "Oh. That's... actually super intense."

"I like intense," Violet said softly, then immediately regretted how serious it came out, given the predicament she found herself in.

Bri gave her a look, but didn't comment. "I'm doing mine on Cleopatra again, because I'm nothing if not consistent."

"Cleopatra was smart."

"Cleopatra was dramatic and extra and knew how to manipulate every man around her. That's my kind of woman."

Violet laughed, a little louder than she expected. It felt good to laugh. To not have guilt hanging over her like a cloud. "Speaking of dramatic women..." Bri continued, glancing at her. "Are you going to the homecoming dance? Or are you still pretending it's not happening?"

"I'm pretending it's not happening," Violet said flatly.

"Of course you are."

"Are you going?"

Bri shrugged. "I don't know. Depends. If I can find a dress that doesn't cost three paychecks and convince my mom that strappy heels won't kill me."

Violet tilted her head. "You'd look great in red."

Bri gasped. "That is the most enthusiastic fashion comment you've made in like... ever."

Violet gave a half smile. "Maybe you're rubbing off on me."

"Don't threaten me with hope." They both laughed again as Bri turned onto the main road leading into town. The familiar rows of fast-food places and strip malls appeared in the distance, golden arches and neon signs glowing in the mid-afternoon sun.

"Okay," Bri said. "Food. Fries. Possibly a milkshake if I can guilt you into it."

"Fine. But no dipping your fries in it."

"Why not? That's the best part!"

"It's gross."

Bri gasped, clearly offended by Violet's judgment of her food preference. "It's a culinary masterpiece, and I will not be judged."

Violet smiled again, the edges of her anxiety softening under Bri's light. For the first time all day, she didn't feel like the floor was going to drop out from under her. Her smile faded as she began to ask a more serious question. "Hey... how's your dad doing?"

Bri blinked, surprised, the question clearly catching her off guard. "He's... good, I think."

"You think?" Violet asked gently.

Bri nodded. "He's still at the facility. They let me visit every other Sunday. Last time I saw him, he looked better. Like... actually had color in his face again."

Violet nodded, not pushing.

"He's been sober for almost four months now," Bri added. Her voice got quieter. "That's the longest since I was, like... thirteen."

"That's huge, Bri," Violet said. "Seriously."

Bri gave a small smile, but her eyes had that far-off look. "Yeah. I mean, I don't wanna get my hopes up, you know? Every time he starts doing better, something happens. He gets scared, or bored, or lonely... and it's like, back to square one."

Violet reached and grabbed Bri's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm proud of you," she said sincerely. "For still loving him through all of it."

Bri's eyes shimmered for a second, but she blinked fast. "Don't make me cry. I don't need puffy eyes walking into the diner. What if that hot waiter is there today?"

Violet only responded with a laugh. They sat like that for a beat longer, the weight of something real resting between them, safe and unspoken. Then Bri cleared her throat and forced a teasing grin. "Okay, enough about emotionally unavailable men. Tell me something tragic and mysterious about your violin girl. Did she accidentally summon a demon or kiss a ghost yet?"

Violet laughed at the question. "Not yet. But she's getting there."

Bri pulled into the diner parking lot. The bell above the door jingled as they stepped inside, and the scent of frying oil and syrup instantly wrapped around them like a cozy, familiar blanket. The walls were lined with photos of local sports teams and yellowing newspaper clippings, the kind of place that hadn't changed since the 80s and didn't care to. Violet liked that about this place. She had a soft spot for old things.

Bri led the way to a booth in the corner and plopped down with a satisfied sigh. "God, I can already feel my arteries clogging, and I've never been more ready." Violet slid in across from her, still quiet, her hoodie sleeves pulled halfway over her hands. When the waitress came over, Bri didn't even hesitate. "We'll split the Colossal Burger," she grinned. "With fries, and two cookies n cream milkshakes."

Violet gave a tiny nod. "Thanks."

The waitress scribbled the order and walked away. Bri leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Okay," she said softly. "Spill."

Violet blinked. "What?"

"Something's off. You've been doing that thing all day where your eyes glaze over like you're in another universe, but your leg's bouncing like you're about to run for your life."

Violet looked down. Her knee was bouncing, and she rested her arm on it to try to force it to stop. She swallowed. She didn't want to lie, but she couldn't exactly tell the truth either. So, she offered a thread of it. "It's... Noah."

Bri's brows raised. "Noah?"

"Yeah." Violet hesitated. "Last night... he told me he said something to Amanda. About me."

"Like, what kind of something?"

Violet picked at the edge of a napkin with her free hand. "He told her to stop messing with me. That it wasn't cool."

Bri's jaw dropped. "Wait. Noah said that?" Violet nodded slowly.

"Wow," Bri said. "I mean... that's actually kind of huge. She's been on your case since middle school."

"I know."

Bri tilted her head. "So... why do you look like you're about to cry instead of, I don't know, celebrate?"

Violet's throat tightened. She thought of everything again. The heat, the confusion. The way he looked at her like he meant it. And then, his phone lit up with Amanda's name. "They were arguing," Violet said finally. "I think about me. On the phone, before he came home."

Bri's eyes narrowed. "He told you that?"

"Sort of. He didn't want to talk about it."

A silence stretched between them, then Bri leaned back and crossed her arms. "So... are you telling me he stood up to Amanda, then argued with her about you, and now you're spiraling?"

"I'm not spiraling."

"Okay. Mini--spiraling." Violet didn't respond.

Bri's voice gentled. "Vi. Do you... like him?"

Violet stared at the table, the napkin now shredded between her fingers. She didn't say yes... but she didn't say no either.

Bri blinked. "Holy crap." She was geared to say something else, but stopped herself as she saw the waitress approach the booth. The fries hit the table first, steaming and golden, followed by two towering milkshakes crowned with swirls of whipped cream and crumbled cookies. Bri didn't hesitate. She grabbed a fry, dunked it right into her milkshake, and took a bite with a dramatic sigh of satisfaction.

Violet wrinkled her nose. "I still don't understand how you think that's good."

Bri grinned mid-chew. "Says the girl who puts mayo on her hot dog."

Violet laughed, the sound escaping her before she could filter it. "That's different."

"It's vile."

"It's not. It's something my dad got me into when I was a kid."

Bri smirked as she reached for another fry. "Childhood trauma doesn't excuse bad condiments."

Violet shook her head, smiling despite herself. The waitress returned with their burger. It was a juicy, perfectly medium rare patty, with American cheese, onions, crispy bacon, lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, and a secret sauce with way too many ingredients in it that prevented the average person from successfully recreating it at home. The burger was as big as the plate and cut perfectly in half with two steak knives inserted into each half. It was placed in the middle of the table, along with two empty plates. "Enjoy," the waitress said before leaving.

The girls took their half and placed it on their own empty plates. Violet pulled her knife out and picked up a fork to cut her half into three pieces. Bri gave her a moment, but wasn't going to let the question she asked be glossed over that easily. She leaned her elbows on the table again and said, "Okay, but seriously. Do you like him?"

Violet paused her cutting. "No. I mean... no. I don't know." Bri raised an eyebrow. "I just... it was nice, okay?" Violet said, her voice quiet. "Nice to hear that he stood up for me. And... it was nice hanging out. That's all."

Bri didn't push anymore. Instead, she just nodded, letting the words settle in the air between them. "Okay," she said. "So then, come to homecoming."

Violet groaned. "Bri."

"I'm serious. I need someone to go with, and you are literally the only person who won't ditch me halfway through for a boy in a vest and questionable cologne. Plus, it'll help you forget about Amanda for another night."

"I don't dance."

"So don't. Sit at a table. Judge people. Eat cookies. I don't care. Just be there."

"I don't have a dress."

"You wear black all the time. Just bedazzle one of your many Wednesday Addams outfits."

Violet gave a reluctant half-smile but shook her head. "I'll think about it."

Bri sighed dramatically, then shifted tactics. "Okay, okay. What about Mark Edison's party on Saturday?"

Violet narrowed her eyes. "Isn't that the guy who tried to skateboard down the science hallway sophomore year and broke both wrists?"

"The very one," Bri said proudly. "But I swear it's not going to be one of those huge, sweaty, drink-out-of-a-trash-can parties. It's just a small thing. A few people. You can hide in a corner and sip soda in total social protest, plus Amanda won't be there. She can't stand Mark."

Violet hesitated. "I'll... think about it."

"I'm taking that as a yes."

"I didn't say yes."

"You didn't say no." Bri smiled as she finally took a bite of her burger, then let out a dramatic sigh as sauce caught on the corner of her lip. "You needed this."

Violet raised an eyebrow. "A burger?"

"A day out. A reason to wear something other than your PJs. Or mayonnaise--themed."

Violet rolled her eyes, but laughed again as the tension released from her shoulders now that the subject was changed. They ate slowly, both of them hunched over their plates like the food was too sacred to rush. The diner hummed around them- clinks of silverware, the soft buzz of a classic rock song playing faintly through the overhead speakers. Bri reached for another fry and said through a mouthful, "Okay, real talk. When are you gonna let me read one of your stories?"

Violet paused mid-bite. "Never."

Bri dramatically clutched her chest. "Never?"

"They're... not ready."

"Girl, you've been writing since, like, birth. You know you're good."

"That's not the point," Violet muttered, poking at her burger with her fry. "What if you don't like it?"

"I'll lie."

"Wow. So reassuring."

Bri grinned. "Okay, fine. I won't lie. I'll tell you what works and what needs work. But I promise I'll be nice."

Violet chewed thoughtfully. "Maybe."

"That's the most hope you've given me in two years. I'll take it." They finished eating with slow, contented silence, the kind that only came when both people were truly at ease. Violet leaned back against the booth, nursing the last inch of her milkshake, her belly full and her thoughts finally getting quiet.

Bri pulled out her phone, tapping something into a group chat. "You know, I missed this."

Violet looked at her, confused. "Missed what?"

"You. Just... you. We used to hang out all the time."

"I know. I'm sorry I've been an anti-social friend."

"I get why you pulled back. Life's been..." Bri shrugged. "Life."

Violet smiled softly. "Thanks for not giving up on me."

"Always," Bri said. "You're my favorite spooky introvert."

"Thanks," Violet said, her voice quiet.

Bri nodded toward the window. "Wanna walk around for a bit at the plaza? Maybe hit the bookstore before I drive you home?" Violet considered it. The idea of shelves lined with old pages, that cozy smell of ink and dust and peace- it felt like something she needed more than she realized.

"Yeah," she said. "That sounds nice."

Bri grinned as she began sliding out of the booth. "Let's go, Wednesday Addams." Violet followed her to the front and paid the bill at the hostess stand by the door. "Thank you," Violet said as she received her change, placing it in her wallet. She followed Bri out, and they began their walk to the bookstore. The wind was wilder than when they first arrived at the diner, and the girls clung to each other as they walked. The little bookstore sat tucked between a florist and a bakery, its window display filled with secondhand hardcovers and crooked stacks of classics. A brass bell chimed as Violet and Bri stepped inside, the scent of aged paper and lavender-scented candles greeting them like an old friend.

"Smells like nerd heaven," Bri whispered.

Violet smiled. "My natural habitat."

Bri grinned. "Alright, nerd. I'll be in the magazine section, judging fall fashion trends. Come find me if you get lost in a pile of cursed poetry or something."

"Gothic literature," Violet corrected.

"Right. Ghosts, corsets, and melodrama. Got it." With a wink, Bri turned and disappeared behind a rotating rack of glossy covers.

Violet wandered deeper into the store. She made her way to a tucked-away corner where the lighting was soft and the shelves were lined with worn spines and unknown titles. Titles like Wuthering Heights, The Turn of the Screw, We Have Always Lived in the Castle. She ran her fingers along the spines reverently, like they might whisper secrets if she touched them gently enough.

She pulled out an old copy of Dracula, its cover cracked, the pages soft at the edges from being read too many times. She opened to a random page and let the words sink into her like breath: "There is a reason why all things are as they are..." She exhaled slowly, closing the book and pressing it to her chest. This... this was where she belonged. Quiet corners, haunted stories, the ache of things half-spoken. She picked out three and stacked them carefully in her arms, then made her way back toward the front, passing rows of romance and poetry and sci-fi, until she found Bri sitting cross-legged on the floor, thumbing through a fashion magazine.

Bri looked up, eyes immediately narrowing at Violet's stack. "Are those all tragedies?"

Violet smirked. "No. One has a hopeful ending."

"Wow. What happened to you today?"

Violet gave a tiny shrug. "Don't get used to it."

Bri stood, brushing off her jeans. "Let's check out. I'm gonna grab this one just for the perfume samples." Violet laughed under her breath. For a moment, it felt like she was still just Violet- just a girl with books, a best friend, and a quiet heart that hadn't made a mess of everything. At the front counter, the girl ringing them up had short, dyed green hair and a tattoo of a quill pen wrapping around her wrist. She took one look at the worn paperback on top of Violet's stack and lit up.

"Oh my god, The Castle of Otranto," she said, flipping it over with care. "This was my gateway drug into gothic horror. Totally unhinged and amazing. You're gonna love it."

Violet's face lit up, surprised by the enthusiasm. "Yeah?"

"Absolutely," the girl said. "People think Jane Eyre and Dracula get all the credit, but this is where it all started. Secret tunnels, ghostly helmets- total chaos."

Violet smiled shyly. "That sounds... perfect."

The girl smiled and finished ringing them up. "Enjoy the drama." They walked out with the bell jingling above them again, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows down the sidewalk. Bri tucked her rolled-up magazine under her arm while Violet hugged her little bag of books like a shield. They walked back to the diner parking lot, and Violet laughed as Bri struggled to open her door in the harsh, whipping October wind. Bri finally succeeded and buckled her seatbelt before glancing over. "Okay, real talk-," she paused to catch her breath as a shiver ran up her spine. "I wish I liked reading as much as you do. Every time I try, I get bored or fall asleep." Violet smiled and reached into her bag. She pulled out the second book she'd bought, wrapped it in the receipt like a little gift, and set it in Bri's lap. Bri looked down at it, then up at her. "What's this?" she asked.

"The Phantom of the Opera," Violet answered. "I thought... maybe you'd like it."

Bri blinked, genuinely touched. "Wait, seriously?"

"There's drama, music, high fashion... and a man who hides underground and is weirdly hot in a damaged, tragic way."

Bri's face lit up. "Oooh. Is there sexual tension?"

"Obviously. So much."

Bri laughed, hugging the book to her chest. "You really do know me."

Violet smirked. "If you get bored, just imagine the Phantom as a moody pop star and Christine as a TikTok violinist."

"I would watch that."

They pulled out of the parking lot, the mood light and easy as they headed towards home. The sun had started its slow descent, painting the sky in soft streaks of peach and lavender as Bri pulled onto the main road. Violet sat with the bookstore bag in her lap, fingers fiddling with the edge of the receipt still tucked inside. Bri glanced at the dashboard clock and cursed under her breath. "Crap, I forgot I have to pick Jacob up from his friend's place. Mom's working a double and I promised I'd get him."

Violet looked over. "I can come with you. If that makes it easier than dropping me off first."

Bri blinked. "You sure? It's kinda out of the way."

Violet nodded quickly. "Yeah, I don't mind." he'd do anything to continue to avoid going home. To avoid closed doors, half-glances, and the question she knew would still be waiting in Noah's eyes the next time they were alone.

Bri smiled gratefully. "Thanks. He's probably eaten a week's worth of pizza and soda by now." They drove in companionable silence for a moment before Bri spoke again.

"So... you're really sure I'll like Phantom of the Opera?"

"Okay. You have no idea the level of tortured, obsessive longing in this book."

Bri snorted. "That a yes?"

"In fact- hang on," Violet said, unlocking her phone and opening her music app. She scrolled until she found it-- the 2004 film soundtrack. Her thumb hovered for a second before she hit play. A haunting organ chord burst from the speakers, filling the car with eerie grandeur. The music swelled dramatically as the title track began. "If this song doesn't scream dark, forbidden, hot sexual tension, I don't know what does."

Bri stared at the road, laughing. "This sounds like the kind of thing that plays when you accidentally walk in on someone summoning a demon... and then you make out with the demon."

Violet grinned and leaned back, eyes drifting shut for a moment as she let the sound wash over her. But in the darkness behind her eyes, the scene shifted. She saw herself in Christine's place- lost in shadow, barefoot in a flowing gown, the air thick with candle smoke and longing. And in the mist, she saw him... Noah. Shirtless, pale light tracing every sharp line of him. Eyes locked on hers like she was the only thing anchoring him to the earth. The Phantom... dangerous and wanting- wanting her.

Violet's breath hitched slightly as the music swelled around her, and she quickly opened her eyes.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Beside her, Bri bopped her head with exaggerated drama. "Okay, yeah. I kinda get it. It's sexy in a gothic, 'kiss me or kill me' kind of way." Violet let out a soft laugh and closed the music app. "Told you." The moment passed, but the sensation lingered. The way the song had stirred something beneath her skin.

Bri made a turn down a quiet neighborhood street. "We're almost there." The evening air grew even cooler, and the trees began casting longer shadows as the branches swayed in a synchronized dance. Bri pulled up to the curb in front of a modest beige house with bikes scattered on the lawn and a basketball hoop standing in front of the garage door. As soon as the car stopped, Bri honked her horn twice. The front door burst open, and a little boy came running out with one shoe on, arms flailing like a wind-up toy.

"There's my dude," Bri said with a grin. The boy flung the car door open and threw himself into the backseat with breathless excitement, his mop of dark curls flopping into his eyes. He had that irresistible, chaotic five-year-old energy, the kind that made him both exhausting and completely endearing.

"VIOLET!" he shouted, spotting her in the passenger seat. "I didn't know you were here!"

Violet turned, surprised by his excitement. "Hey, Jacob."

His face lit up. The scar above his left eyebrow wrinkled slightly when he grinned, that small crescent of pale skin that always tugged at something in Violet's chest. She glanced over at Bri, then back at Jacob, unable to stop herself from asking softly, "Isn't he supposed to be in a booster seat?"

Bri made a face and leaned closer to whisper, "I forgot it. He hates the thing. Calls it the baby throne."

Violet bit back a laugh as Jacob launched into a breathless recap of his day. "Me and Dominic played dinosaurs, and we made a volcano with baking soda, and then we had chocolate milk and watched a movie with a talking dog that flies- but it's like, not a cartoon, it's real, and it talks like this- " he made an impressively deep growl- "and then we had grilled cheese but Dominic puts ketchup on his and it was so gross!"

Bri laughed as she pulled away from the curb. "That's your hard line? Not the flying dog?"

"I don't trust ketchup," Jacob declared with authority.

Violet smiled, turning slightly in her seat to face him. He was still so little, still innocent, still happy- despite everything. Her gaze flicked again to the scar on his brow, remembering what Bri had once told her. That night, when her dad had lied- said he was sober, said he was fine. Then passed out on the couch, dead to the world, while three-year-old Jacob tried to climb the pantry for a granola bar. She remembered the fall. The blood. The hospital visit where Violet sat with Bri and her mom. Bri hadn't even cried; she just held his tiny hand and told him stories until he fell asleep. And now here he was. Beaming. Whole. Still sunshine in human form.

"Where are we going?" Jacob asked suddenly, peering between the front seats.

"Taking Violet home," Bri said.

"Noooo!" he whined, dragging out the syllable as long as his lungs could handle. "Violet has to hang out with us! Please?"

Violet turned, surprised again. "Hang out with you?"

Jacob nodded furiously. "I got a new board game! It has dragons. And treasure. And dice! I've been practicing."

Bri gave her a knowing glance. "You're popular today." Violet hesitated. She'd already been trying to avoid home. And Jacob's eager little face wasn't making it any easier to say no.

"We can do one game," Bri said, throwing her a smile. "We've got snacks at the house, and he'll sleep like a rock after."

Violet looked back at Jacob again. He was practically vibrating in his seat. "Okay," she said. "One game."

"YES!" Jacob shouted, pumping his fists in the air. "I'm gonna beat you soooo bad!"

Violet chuckled and shook her head. "We'll see about that."

Violet put on Disney songs for the rest of the ride, and she and Bri belted along with Jacob as they sang about going the distance, having friends on the other side, how hakuna matata means no worries, and a willy-silly old bear. Bri parked in front of her house as the final lines of "Never had a friend like me" brought the singing to a wonderful completion. Bri handed Jacob her house key, and he bolted out of the car, shoe still in hand. He ran at full speed to the front door, then disappeared into the darkness of the living room. Bri and Violet followed him in.

The house smelled like vanilla, the kind of cozy scent that made Violet feel like maybe everything was okay- if only for tonight. Jacob kicked off his sneakers and bolted for the living room, already yelling, "I'll get the dragons!" as he disappeared down the hall. Violet and Bri exchanged a look, and Bri shrugged.

"He's been talking about this game for a week," she said while heading toward the kitchen. "You want anything? We've got pretzels, fruit snacks, root beer, and half a sleeve of Oreos."

"Root beer and Oreos, please," Violet said with a small smile.

"You got it." They reconvened in the living room a few minutes later. Jacob had spread the entire board game across the floor, the box propped open beside him like it was a sacred artifact. There were tiny plastic figures- dragons, knights, treasure chests, and one slightly mangled sorcerer with a missing staff.

"I get the red dragon!" Jacob announced. "Because red is the fastest."

"You always get the red dragon," Bri said as she flopped down beside him.

"Because I always win."

Violet settled cross-legged on the floor, balancing her root beer in her lap. "I want the blue one."

Jacob considered this. "Blue's pretty fast, too. Not as fast as red, but good at fireballs."

"Sounds fair," Violet said, picking up the small figurine with its chipped wings. They played for nearly an hour- Jacob narrated every move with dramatic flair, Bri pretended to be a sore loser, and Violet laughed harder than she had in days... maybe even months. Every time Jacob rolled a critical hit, he'd let out a triumphant, "YEAH!" and throw his arms up like he'd just won the Super Bowl.

At one point, he leaned over to whisper to Violet, "You're really good at this," like it was a secret only she was allowed to know.

"Thanks," Violet whispered back. They ganged up on Bri for a while, sending both their dragons after her knight in a surprise ambush. Bri groaned dramatically, falling onto her back with a fake death rattle.

"I have been betrayed!" she yelled to the ceiling.

Jacob cackled. "That's what you get for stealing our treasure!"

"Fair," Bri muttered, grinning. When the game finally ended with Jacob's red dragon soaring in victorious circles around the plastic castle, he raised his arms once more.

"Undefeated!" he shouted.

"Okay, little champ," Bri said, ruffling his curls. "Time to brush teeth and crash."

Jacob yawned mid-protest, his energy finally winding down. "Violet can stay and help tuck me in."

Bri opened her mouth to protest, but Violet was already nodding. "Sure, bud." Upstairs, after Bri changed Jacob into a pair of dinosaur pajamas, they read the first few pages of a pirate book he insisted was "extra scary," By the time she closed it, he was snoring softly, a small smile on his face. Violet and Bri quietly walked out of his room and returned to the living room.

"You can stay here if you want, "Bri said as she stopped behind the couch. "I feel bad for not being able to take you home."

Violet hesitated, considering taking her up on her offer, but shook her head. "Thanks. I should go home."

Bri shrugged, then walked her to the door. Violet hugged her, holding on tightly, like she was giving another silent "thank you" for helping her take her mind off things." When Violet let go, Bri looked at her, concerned. "You sure you're okay?"

Violet managed a soft smile. "I'm better now."

She looked at the time on her phone.

8:49 PM.

If she left now and walked at her usual pace, she'd be home by 9:30- just in time to slip inside unnoticed and pretend like her whole day hadn't been about avoiding the boy who lived down the hall. "I'll text you when I get home," she said as she pulled her hoodie over her head and brought the strap of her bag over her shoulder. Bri yawned as she nodded. "Good. So I know you weren't kidnapped by like... a haunted bookstore spirit."

Violet smiled. "If I am, tell Jacob to avenge me."

"I'll raise him to be a dragon-slaying knight in your honor."

They hugged again quickly, and as Violet stepped onto the porch, she paused. "Oh, just keep my books in your car," she said. "No reason to carry them all the way home. I'll grab them from you at school."

"You got it. And hey..." Bri leaned against the doorframe. "Thanks for today. It was fun."

"Yeah. It was," Violet said honestly, before finally stepping away. The wind had calmed its ravenous assault from earlier, but the chill in the air was still there. The streetlights cast pools of soft light down the sidewalk as Violet walked. Her sneakers made soft scuffs against the pavement, and she began kicking a small rock in front of her, letting the collection of minerals take the journey home with her.

The neighborhood was calm. Windows were lit up with a quiet TV glow, and the distant smell of McDonald's chicken nuggets teased her nostrils. She passed a dog barking behind a fence, a parked car with a cracked window playing muffled music, and two boys riding their skateboards in hoodies and shorts.

Violet breathed in deeply. The walk helped. It gave her time to think without the pressure of Noah's gaze or the weight of her dad's praise, which now felt like a stone in her stomach. Everything with Noah- his words, his kiss, the wine-warmed moment she couldn't take back-- fought its way back to the front of her mind, refusing to be suppressed any longer. It nagged at her, encouraging her to feel the guilt she hadn't felt since her conversation with Bri at the diner.

But instead, Violet chose to think about how she laughed. She played a dragon game and listened to a five-year-old describe ketchup as evil. She shared a weird milkshake combo and bought a book for a friend. That counted for something. She remembered that there was a world outside her books, her stories, her clubs, and her band.

She turned the last corner toward her street. The porch light at her house was already on. Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out as she walked.

Bri: Don't forget. Text when you get home, not from the spirit realm.

Violet smiled down at the screen and typed back:

Violet: Home safe. Not kidnapped. Ghosts were polite.

Then she tucked her phone away and made her way up the steps. The front door opened quietly. Inside, the house was dim, the only sound was music and talking from the TV upstairs in her dad's and Noah's mom's room. They were already upstairs getting ready for bed.

She made her way up the steps, her feet slowing as she got closer to the top. Noah's door was still open. Her heart gave a single, sharp thud in her chest. She kept walking into her room, closing the door behind her. She had some time to take a shower and wash the day away. She grabbed a pair of skull-patterned pajama shorts and a tank top, placing them on her bed. Then, she grabbed her robe and made her way to the bathroom. She turned the knob in the shower, waiting the appropriate 30 seconds it took for the water to actually get warm, before stepping in.

She sighed as her body relaxed under the stream. She tilted her head back, allowing her dark brown hair to get wet along with her body. Steam engulfed her like she was at the spa. She grabbed her shampoo, pouring a small amount in her hands and lathering it up before applying it to her scalp. She scrubbed softly, then stuck her head under the stream again, letting the suds trail down her body to the floor of the tub.

Then she washed her body--a strawberry scented body wash that always reminded her of summers at her grandparents' farm when she was a little girl. Her grandmother would always let her pick fresh strawberries from her garden and would gently remind her to wash them before eating. When she was nice and clean, she applied conditioner to her strands, then automatically reached for her razor and shaving cream. Then, she paused.

Why am I even shaving? The thought came unbidden, annoying, and sharp. She stared at the pink handle in her hand and frowned. It's not like last night's going to happen again. It was a mistake. A moment of heat and wine and too many confusing feelings. He had a girlfriend. She was his-- God, even thinking it made her stomach turn as she thought it again--stepsister. She should be distancing herself and putting up walls.

But... it couldn't hurt to shave. She did, carefully, then rinsed her hair and body down before finally stepping out. She dried herself off with a towel, brushed her teeth, then slipped into her robe and padded back to her bedroom, the cool hallway air prickling her damp skin. In her room, she lotioned herself, dressed in her pajamas, pulled her hair up in a messy bun, then glanced at the time on her phone.

10:07 PM.

Her stomach tightened as she crossed the room to peek out her door. Noah's room was still open. Lights off. No sound. He wasn't back yet. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he didn't want to talk after all. Something deflated in her chest, and she felt something she honestly shouldn't. She shut her door gently behind her and sat on her bed, the soft mattress dipping beneath her. Her laptop sat waiting where she left it. She opened it and pulled up YouTube, her cursor automatically drifting to her Purchased tab. She scrolled through the list of films until her eyes landed on Bram Stoker's Dracula, and she clicked it. The opening chords of the soundtrack filled the room, low and ominous. She turned the volume down a little and pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them under her oversized shirt.

As the film began, her mind drifted. Maybe Noah realized this was actually a mistake, and he should just avoid her. She shook her head and forced herself to focus on the screen. The aching tragedy of Dracula, his lost love, the gothic splendor of it all-- it used to be a comfort. It had to be tonight, because if she let herself sit too long in the silence... she'd start to wonder if he wasn't coming back because he regretted it.

Or worse... because he didn't.

The film flickered across her screen, warm candlelight dancing on Mina's face. Then she heard the faint click of the front door, and the soft creak of worn stairs as someone moved up them. She held her breath, then--A door shut. She paused the movie. Another door creaked open, sounding like her dad's door, followed by a few footsteps, and finally, Noah's mom's voice, low and slightly exasperated, just outside his room. "You know your curfew," was all she said.

"Sorry," Violet heard Noah reply, his voice quiet. "Lost track of time."

There was a pause. Then his mom added gently, "Just don't make it a habit. Goodnight."

"Night," he answered.

Violet stayed frozen, her laptop screen glowing in front of her as the hallway returned to stillness. A moment later, she heard another door close softly. The house exhaled again. She checked the time.

11:20 PM.

Yeah... he was really late.

She should finish the movie, or close the laptop and get under the covers and pretend this entire day didn't happen. But instead, her eyes tracked the subtle signs of night settling over the house. The hall light under her door went dark. The television in the master bedroom played faintly-- some late-night sitcom she couldn't make out. Then, the soft rumble of her dad's snoring began to fill the silence.

She rechecked the time.

11:38.

Her heart beat a little faster, and the anticipation sat heavy and warm in her chest. Was he still coming? She moved to slide out from her bed, tiptoeing softly. She was about to open the door and peek--to see if Noah's light was on, if his door had closed-- when she heard it.

A soft knock, one that would've sounded non-existent if she had still been sitting on her bed. She froze, and her breath caught in her throat. There was another soft knock, the kind someone gives when they don't want to wake the rest of the house. She didn't say anything. She just held her breath and reached for the doorknob, opening it an inch.

Noah stood in the dim light of the hall, barefoot, his hair slightly damp again, like he'd rinsed off in a hurry. He wore sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt this time, eyes tired but focused. He didn't smile. Didn't speak. Violet opened the door the rest of the way and stepped back, letting him in.

Noah stood in the middle of her room like he wasn't sure if he belonged. Violet shut the door gently behind him, the soft click sounding louder than it should have in the quiet of the house. She turned back to him, and for a moment they just looked at each other. There were no words exchanged. Just the sound of her breath and his. Her chest rose a little too quickly. The familiar scent of him--clean skin, a faint trace of his soap--was already curling through her head, disorienting her in a way she hated admitting. Without speaking, she moved to her bed and gently pushed her laptop to the side. The Bram Stoker's Dracula title screen flickered silently, the eerie score still hanging in the air from when she paused it. She sat down, fingers knotting briefly in the hem of her shirt.

Noah sat beside her. Not too close, but not far, either. "What were you watching?" he asked, his voice low.

"Dracula. The Coppola one."

He gave a small nod, looking down at his hands for a second. "Right. The one with Gary Oldman and all the... weird shadow stuff?"

Violet smiled faintly. "You remember that?"

"I think we watched a censored version of it in Lit class last year. Mrs. Gardner talked about how it was about 'uncontrollable desire masked as tragedy.'"

Violet raised an eyebrow. "That's very her." They sat in silence again. A comfortable one at first, but it stretched too long, heavy, and careful. Violet tucked one leg under herself, trying to seem relaxed, even though her heart was doing something that shouldn't feel normal in this situation. It was beating like it wanted something.

Noah leaned forward to rest an arm on his thigh while he ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't mean to be that late," he said. "I just needed to clear my head. Be away for a little."

Violet nodded. "You don't have to explain."

He was quiet for a beat, then said, "I wanted to be here."

She glanced at him, then down at her lap. "I wasn't sure if you would."

"I told you I wanted to talk."

She swallowed. "Right."

There was another pause, and Violet began nervously picking at her thumbs. "I've been thinking about a lot," he said softly. "About... what happened. What it meant... and what it shouldn't mean." Violet's breath caught, but she stayed still, her eyes glued to her hands. "I don't want to mess with your head," Noah continued. "You're already dealing with so much. School. College apps. Band. People like Amanda." Violet gave a soft, bitter laugh at the last one. "But I keep going back to that night," he said, voice even quieter now. "Not just... the kiss. But how easy it was to talk to you. How natural it felt."

She looked at him, unsure of how to feel. "We barely ever talked before that night."

"I know." He looked at her now. "That's on me."

Violet lowered her gaze. "You still have a girlfriend, Noah."

He flinched slightly. "I know... and I know I'm not supposed to feel this way about you... but I do. I don't know what to do with this."

Her heart twisted. She couldn't be angry... because she didn't know either. "I keep telling myself it's wrong," she whispered. "I feel so guilty. I don't wanna get hurt."

Noah turned to face her more fully. "I would never hurt you. I swear. I just--" He sighed and looked away from her, not really knowing what else he should say to that.

She looked up at him as tears began to swell in her eyes. "I'm scared," she said in a whisper.

"So am I."

They stayed there, side by side, not touching. The tension lingered, not sharp or desperate-- but tender, uncertain, and real. The silence settled again, but this time it wasn't awkward; it was loaded. Warm. A little fragile. Violet picked at the seam of her shorts, her fingers continuing to move anxiously. She took a breath to steady herself, then gently wiped her tears away. Then... quietly... she forced herself to confess what she had been holding in all day. "I can't stop thinking about what happened last night."

Noah's mouth opened as he looked at her, but no words left his lips. He simply studied her as her lips moved, looking like she was preparing herself to speak again. "I've tried to push it out of my mind all day," she confessed further, using the little ounce of courage she could muster up to finally speak her truth. "I kept telling myself it was stupid, or just the wine, or--" She shook her head. "But I can't. I keep remembering how it felt. How it made me feel." Her voice dropped even lower. "And I've never felt that way before."

The words hung there between them, vulnerable and terrifying. Noah exhaled a slow breath through his nose, and Violet finally glanced at him again, hoping he would say something. He now looked like he'd been holding something in for hours as well. "You're not alone," he said. "I haven't stopped thinking about it either." Her stomach twisted with feelings of relief, panic, and something in between. He reached for her hand, carefully, almost as if he didn't want to scare her away. His fingers brushed hers, and for a second, she didn't move. Then, finally, she let her hand rest in his.

It wasn't romantic. It was raw and honest, silently saying the things that remained unspoken... until Noah finally said them. "I don't know what this is... but I know I've never felt this way about anyone before. Not even Amanda." Violet swallowed hard as she listened. This could all be a trick, a sly move to get something sexual out of her. But as her eyes searched Noah's, she could not find an ounce of manipulation there. No smugness. No calculation. Just sincerity.

She froze as Noah leaned in, so close now she could feel the warmth of him, the quiet pull of something neither of them had put words to. Her body was already reacting-- heart pounding, skin buzzing-- and yet her mind screamed this isn't right.

Her whisper came out unsure, not at all confident like she wanted. "We shouldn't..."

Noah's voice was just above a murmur. "Then tell me to stop."

Violet opened her mouth, knowing what she should say. But no sound came. Instead, she stared at him-- his eyes, the look he was giving her, the one that told him she mattered. That he wanted her. The guilt stirred inside her, still present, still whispering. But just for this moment... she chose to let it go. She tilted her chin up and let Noah kiss her. There was no wine this time. No distractions. Just warmth, lips, and a thousand tangled feelings rising between them like a slow-burning fire. Violet didn't know what would happen after this, but right now, she didn't care.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. A soft sound escaped her throat as his hand slid up the small of her back, gently pulling her to him, their kiss deepening with quiet urgency. His lips, once soft and hesitant, grew more confident, more insistent. Violet melted into him, her hands clutching at the hem of his shirt, fingers trembling with the weight of what they were doing, what they were starting again.

She pulled him toward her again, breathless, until her back met the edge of her bed. The motion was clumsy, uncoordinated, and they tumbled down together in a flurry of limbs and tangled breath. Her elbow knocked into something hard and cold-- her laptop-- and the sudden burst of sound from the speakers startled them both. Her movie sprang back to life, voices echoing in the quiet room. Violet gasped and laughed nervously. "Sorry--." But Noah was already chuckling, his chest rising and falling against hers. He leaned over, closed the laptop with one hand, and reached down to set it on the floor beside the bed.

He kissed her again, and Violet's world narrowed to the press of his body against hers, the weight of him anchoring her in place. His breath was minty--he must've brushed his teeth before coming to her room--and the scent of him made her dizzy. His still-damp hair brushed her forehead, cool against her warm skin, and the strands clung slightly to her temple.

His lips were so soft. She couldn't believe she'd already forgotten how soft they were. His hand came up and cupped her cheek with a tenderness that made her chest ache. The pad of his thumb stroked lightly just beneath her eye, grounding her as his mouth moved against hers. And then--she felt it. His tongue. Just the faintest flicker at first. A cautious, testing motion that made her inhale sharply against his lips. Noah pulled back immediately, his eyes searching hers. "Too much?" he asked, his voice roughened by restraint.

She shook her head. "No." The word came out as a breath, fragile and certain all at once. She pulled him back to her, saying without words that she wanted him to do it again. He happily obliged, but deeper this time. She kissed him back, letting herself feel it--really feel it. She began to move her tongue around his, hesitantly at first, then bolder, tasting the mint on his tongue. The sensation was electric. Warm, wet, and intimate in a way that sent goosebumps skimming across her arms. Her hands found his shoulders, then the back of his neck, pulling him closer, needing him nearer.

God, she loved everything about this. The way he kissed. The way his lips fit against hers like they were meant to. The heat pooling low in her belly. The tiny sounds in his throat when she kissed him harder. The way her whole body seemed to come alive under his touch. She could feel everything--his fingers in her hair, the slight tremble in his arms as he held himself up over her, the rhythmic push of his breath between kisses. It was overwhelming. It was terrifying.

And she didn't want it to stop.

Noah moved away from her lips to the side of her neck, pulling out of Violet a shudder. She clung tighter to his shirt as she felt his hand move to her side, slowly sliding up and down, as if he once again was imprinting the feeling of her skin to memory. "You're so pretty," Noah whispered against her neck. Violet froze at the statement, her eyes flying open. Noah's face came into view, and his eyes... his beautiful green eyes, stared down at her with a look of true sincerity, and for the first time since last night, Violet actually believed him.

She smiled up at him and lifted a hand to stroke the side of his face gently. His eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned into her touch, like he needed it, like he'd been waiting for it. Then he caught her hand in his, turned it over, and pressed a kiss to the inside of her palm. When he looked at her again, the softness in his smile had shifted into something more careful. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to," he said quietly. His hand came to her face again, fingers sliding into her hair, thumb brushing her cheek in slow, steady circles. Violet's chest tightened, and she knew--without a doubt--that if she asked him to stop right now, he would. No hesitation. No frustration. Just respect. Just him. And that, somehow, made her want him even more.

Violet didn't answer with words. Instead, she pulled him to her again, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she kissed him--deeper, more certain. Her lips moved against his with quiet, inexperienced urgency, and he responded instantly, matching her pace, his hands steady at her waist. She tugged at his shirt, and her breath caught when her knuckles brushed the warm skin beneath. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull it over his head and toss it aside, leaving her flushed--her eyes moving over the many lines and hills of his shoulder, bare chest, and abdomen. It was one thing to peek at him when he walked around the house with no shirt on. It was another thing entirely to see it so intimately close. He was beautiful.

She jumped as she felt his fingers brushing under the hem of her tank top, raising it slowly. Her eyes flew to his, and for a heartbeat, she stilled. He paused too, observing her, his hands gentle, waiting for a sign. She didn't give one, didn't say no, didn't pull away. Noah leaned in to kiss her again, before guiding her up to pull her tank top over her head. He tossed it aside and pulled back just enough to look at her, his gaze full of her creamy skin and small, perky breasts. Violet immediately felt her arms start to move, an instinct to cover herself, as she looked away from him, suddenly feeling insecure and unsure.

Noah noticed, but didn't say anything. He didn't tease or stare too long. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss just above her heart. Then another, to the curve of her breast. Then higher, along her collarbone. His hands rested lightly on her waist, grounding her. "You're beautiful," he murmured against her skin. His lips found her again, warm and soft, coaxing her back into the moment. With every kiss, he told her without words that she didn't have to hide. Slowly, her body relaxed beneath his touch. She let her arms fall to her sides and let herself feel the warmth of his mouth, the security of his hands, the quiet reverence in the way he looked at her.

He began kissing his way down her body, each press of his mouth like a promise--unrushed and reverent. Violet trembled beneath him as her hands gripped the blanket under her, her nerves humming just beneath the surface with the anticipation of the glorious pleasure she knew she was about to receive. His mouth moved with slow, deliberate care, his kisses deepening as he settled between her thighs. Violet gasped as her back arched slightly, one hand flying to her mouth to stifle the sound, the other twisting in the blanket under her.

Every flick of his tongue, every pause, every return, made her feel like she was being pulled apart and put back together in the same breath. Her legs trembled, instinctively tightening around his shoulders, and just when she thought she couldn't take any more, she felt his hands begin to slide up her body to her chest. He cupped her breast gently, his thumbs brushing across her nipples before squeezing the small orbs in his palms. She gasped again, unable to contain it this time. The dual sensations, his mouth working between her legs and his hand teasing her above, made the heat pooling in her belly even hotter, a growing ache that made her writhe underneath him. There was no alcohol, no confusion, no regret--just pure, desperate desire.

Suddenly, she felt his other hand moving lower. His fingers slid against her, coaxing her wet folds open with agonizing patience before slipping inside. One finger first, then two, curling just right to make her hands grab at his shoulders. "Mmmm," she heard Noah moan as he slowly devoured her, licking and tasting her like a delectable treat.

She cried out softly, a breathy moan, as her hips tilted up to meet his touch, her body moving on instinct now. Her breath came in quick, shallow pants as she tried desperately not to make any loud noises. The pleasure was becoming too much and not enough all at once. But even through the haze of sensation, she felt safe, watched over, even worshipped.

Noah didn't speak, didn't rush. He just kept going, slowly building her towards the same crescendo he brought her to the night before. One of Violet's hands slid from his shoulder and clenched the sheets; her other hand pressed over her mouth again to hold back the sounds rising in her throat. Her eyes blurred as tears swelled in her eyes, her body bracing itself for the intense orgasm.

She came with a gasp, quiet and muffled, but raw. Her body shuddered beneath him, every nerve on fire, her vision blurring as she surrendered completely to the rush washing over her. Noah didn't stop until her body slowly stilled beneath his, until her breath came in shallow pants and her limbs felt boneless against the bed. Then he kissed his way back up slowly to her inner thighs, the underside of her breast, her collarbone, and finally her throat.

By the time he reached her lips, she was still breathless and dazed, her heart beating hard in her chest. He kissed her gently, like he didn't want to startle her, like he needed her to feel how much she mattered in that moment. Then, wordlessly, he sat back on his knees and slid off his sweatpants and boxers. Violet's eyes widened. She'd never seen one in person before, not like this. He was... big. And thick. Her mind scrambled to make sense of it--what it would feel like, what it meant, how her body could even handle something like that.

As he leaned forward to position himself between her legs, her body tensed. It wasn't fear, exactly, but something deeper. Hesitation. Uncertainty. A wall she didn't quite know how to climb over yet. Noah saw it immediately and stopped. His eyes met hers, and his expression softened into a small, knowing smile. "We don't have to tonight," he said gently. Just those words--no pressure, no disappointment, no question. Just an open door she didn't have to walk through yet.

Violet didn't even realize she'd been holding her breath until it left her in a soft exhale, and in that moment, she felt safe, secure, and reassured. She nodded, a faint smile forming at the corner of her lips. Noah leaned down and pressed another kiss to her lips, gentle and unhurried. Then he reached for the edge of her blanket and pulled at it, causing Violet to lift her hips to climb under it with him.

Violet shifted closer, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his bare chest. Their legs tangled naturally, the warmth between them settling into something quieter, something real. Neither of them spoke, for there was nothing to say. She laid her head against his chest, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear. His hand moved in slow circles along her back, and with every breath, her body melted more and more into his arms. Right now, there was guilt, no fear, no Amanda, no rules. There was just the quiet comfort of his skin against hers. And that, for right now, was enough.