All the Different Ways Read online

  “Knowing you,” she answers with a heavy sigh, “that’s rhetorical. Ok, I’ll leave it alone for now but I will say go reapply some makeup so we can get outta here for lunch and re-center ourselves. When’s the last time you cried anyway?”

  “I don’t know,” I tell her as I’m walking out my door, “at least two years. Certainly not at the funeral.”

  I slam into Cullen. His arms wrap around me but then automatically thread through my hair to tilt my face up.

  “Have you been crying?!” He peers at Renee through the opening. “What the hell happened?”

  “Easy, Thor, girl talk. She’s fine, better even. Leave it be,” she waves him off with her hand.

  He studies me again as I grip his waist, “Did you tell her your sister called me Thor?”

  “Yeah,” I chuckle, “it was cute.”

  “Oh my god,” he rolls his eyes. “Are you sure you’re ok?” He eyes me suspiciously.

  “Yes, I am O.K. I just need to run to the ladies’ room and I’ll be right back. We’re heading to lunch, wanna come? Renee, can he come?” I shout over my shoulder.

  “If he’s not gonna act like a caveman,” she yells back.

  “See? There ya go. You can come!” I look left, then right, and give him a quick kiss on his tasty lips.

  Cullen

  Elliot’s trying to go over the plan for today. I’m taking offense to the practice field—that’s all I care about. Everything else is just rambling, especially since Claire is walking out of Violet’s room. What. The. Fuck.

  “Dude, I got it. I’m running gauntlets and tire drills with running backs and distraction drills between QB’s and receivers once we split off. You’ve got Special Teams the first hour and Dean’s on it with defense. How long have we been doing this, man? And we’ve had two games already…which we’ve won.”

  He shoves the playbook in my chest with a smirk, “No shit, but we’ve got a young team. I’m just checking all the bases, dumbass.”

  I slap the ball cap off his head, and catch a glimpse of Renee marching into Violet’s room. My eyes go back to Elliot with a cough, “Dumbass? You just made a baseball reference during a football discussion. And it’s a young team, not a young coaching staff, dick.”

  He swipes his hat off the floor with a chuckle, “Well, shit, that’s a good point. Maybe you were paying attention. See you at practice then.” He claps me on the shoulder and starts walking away.

  I yell after him, “I made two good points!” Asshole.

  Wanting to see what’s up with all Violet’s visitors, I start down the hall but our principal catches up with me first. Jesus, what is with people today?

  “Hey, Crawford, what’s up?”

  “Metz, how are you? Good season starting, yeah?”

  I’d admire the man’s ability to be reserved if he could do it without being a colossal jackass at the same time. His only true function is as a face for Vista. We run the show while he signs the paperwork. I doubt Charles Crawford even knows what subject I teach.

  “Since you’ve ventured up here into the Social Studies wing, how can I help you?” I tuck my playbook under my arm.

  “We made some changes to your schedule to accommodate your practices this year. You’ll be having your prep during last block instead of third. I think you’ll find it’s easier to prepare for football that way. It was suggested that you should be told firsthand in case you didn’t see the email in time.”

  Oh fuck no, that’s totally not when Violet has her plan, so now I’m off when she’s not. Shit. Fuck. Damn.

  I steady my voice, “Really? Interesting. When was that decided? I don’t remember seeing that change the last time I was in on my schedule.”

  “Yesterday afternoon, I think it was.”

  What a coincidence. After my chat with Claire. I bite my tongue until I’m sure it’s on the verge of splitting in half. Crawford takes a slight step backwards. Maybe one of the fireballs I’m sending from my eyeballs hit its mark.

  “Well, I’ll take a look at it, and see how I can best use whatever time you give me,” I grind out. “Last minute changes aren’t always conducive to the department, however.”

  “I knew you would, Metz. And don’t worry about your department. It’ll survive.” Crawford offers me his hand and I shake it, trying hard not to squeeze it till he drops to his knees. Asshole.

  Going in my classroom, I toss the binder I was holding onto my desk with a startling clatter. It slides and for a second, I imagine it tumbling to the floor and papers scattering all over the place but it stops just shy of the edge. I let out the breath I was holding and shut my door with some force.

  With my elongated strides, it doesn’t take me long to get to Violet’s side of the hallway. I round the edge of the stairwell and glide to her door. I hear her say the word “funeral” and it has me jolting right as she slams into me coming out of her room. Instinctually, I fold my arms around her but she’s stiff—she doesn’t fall into them the way she should. I lace my fingers through her hair and tilt her head up to look into her eyes. If Claire pissed her off…

  My heart stops when I see streaks on her face. I’ve never seen Violet cry before and once I get over my initial shock, I wanna bust some heads.

  Who the fuck made my girl cry?

  Renee blows me off like it’s no big deal; Violet agrees and practically skips down to the bathroom thinking about lunch. I’m thinking about hunting down the sorry mother fucker who hurt Violet, carving out his heart, and biting into it like some kind of primeval champion.

  Renee gets up from the desk she’s sitting on while Violet is gone and approaches me tentatively. It’s possible I have a very specific look of rage on my face…

  “Look, Cullen, she’s fine, ok? There was some stuff that we had to talk about from her past that was a little upsetting. It’s my fault. I brought it up,” she pats my arm and looks at me pleadingly.

  I cross my arms in front of me, “What stuff?”

  “Nothing, let it go. It’s not important. If she wants to talk about it again, she will.”

  “It’s important if it made her cry. Why wouldn’t she tell me? I’m her boyfriend.”

  Renee smiles in a grimace-like way, “Yeah, well, she wouldn’t hardly tell me, so going Alpha on her won’t help.”

  Violet comes around the corner, “Everyone ready?”

  I hold my arm out for her and tuck her into my side when she gets closer. “Yeah, Beautiful. We’re ready for anything.”

  I flash Renee a scowl over Violet’s head. I don’t think Renee knows that I hear both of them sigh.

  FOURTEEN

  Violet

  The first week back to school blows. I swear to God, waking up prior to nine in the morning should be outlawed. On top of that, the only thing I’ve gotten to do with Cullen the last three days is text and say hi in the hallway. Oh, and wink. I got a wink. Not even our plan periods line up anymore. Last year, we both had third block off, but this year, Cullen has a last block plan to my third. Admin said it had something to do with football practices and getting out on the field sooner. Whatever I was thinking before about a little separation being good for us was total bullshit. I miss him.

  Tonight’s football game is a big one. Rivals and all that. But it’s away so I’m not going, and the team left on a bus right after school.

  I throw my stuff down inside the entryway of my townhouse, promising to pick it up after I change my clothes, but I get a text from Cullen that delays it all.

  Cullen: Miss U

  Me: I bet. On bus w/stinky boys

  Cullen: Got that right. See U at game?

  Me: Not this one. Long day, bad mood.

  Cullen: I’m sorry, Beautiful. Let me fix it?

  Me: LOL, not from the bus

  Cullen: I can come by after game?

  Me: That would be perfect

  Cullen: I’ll text U, 2 Color

  Me: Sounds good, Thor, C U. Good luck!

  Feeling slightly bette
r that I have something to look forward to now, I pick up my bag from out by the front door and skip up the stairs. In reality, I never could have let it sit. I change into some yoga pants and a tank top, brush the knots out of my long hair, and trot back downstairs to relax with Jax until I hear from Cullen again.

  At some point, I must have fallen asleep because I jolt awake and check the time. It’s nearly light outside and my phone says five thirty. Did I miss his text? The indicator light isn’t blinking so I type in my code to retrieve messages. Nothing is there. No missed calls, either. A slow panic starts to build in my belly; little butterflies randomly take flight. This isn’t like Cullen at all.

  I send him a message.

  Me: R U ok?

  Then I wait. I stretch and pace around the living room, waiting. I look at the pictures on my wall, waiting. I clean the two counters in my tiny kitchen even though they are already spotless, waiting. I sit on a cold, hard stool with a huff and lay my head on the counter. The scent of citrus Lysol wafts into my sinuses. What if he’s laid out somewhere in an accident and I don’t have any idea? Flashbacks to not knowing that Anden was sprawled on the front lawn with twelve rusty metal tines piercing his organs, blood pooling in between his tissues as air hissed out of his lungs at each attempt to call my name flick across my vision like an old film reel. Then, in the most horrifying fashion, his baby blues shift to simmering brown, round cheeks morph into strong angles, and the full picture of Cullen laying in a ditch somewhere covered in ants and flies dances behind my eyelids.

  My head jerks up with the sudden force of a train wreck. There’s sweat collecting in the creases of my knees. This is stupid; I’m going to call. I grip my phone to pull up Cullen’s contact information, but it dings instead.

  Cullen: I’m sorry. We got back super late, Celebrating the win.

  I figured U were sleeping, didn’t want to wake U.

  Me: So U R ok?

  Cullen: Yes

  Me: And U R home?

  Cullen: Yes

  Me: So I didn’t miss U?

  Cullen: No?

  I can’t explain why I’m pissed, but I am. I thought Cullen was coming over. I mean, that was the plan right? Dammit when plans don’t work. Plus now I’ve just gotten near hysterical imagining his horrible fake death on the side of the road somewhere. It’s embarrassing.

  Cullen: Violet?

  I just stare at my screen. I don’t know what to say to him that won’t sound like a petulant child. I probably should just go back to sleep and deal with this later. I prepare to type just that, but Cullen beats me to another text.

  Cullen: I’m coming over.

  Me: I’m going back to bed.

  Cullen: Nope, already in truck.

  Well shit. I avoid responding by running up to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I can’t have this discussion with barn breath. I’m also starving, which makes everything worse, so I make it back downstairs and grab a bowl and some granola, but I hear a light tapping at the door. That was fast.

  Taking a deep breath and abandoning my cereal, I walk over and open the door. Oh. My. God. What is it about this beautiful man with bed hair, a t-shirt stretched tight over sleepy muscles, and loose pants hanging low on his hips leaning on a doorframe first thing in the morning? He twirls his keys from his finger to his palm once, twice, three times… I’m star-struck.

  “Are you gonna let me in?”

  I cross my arms and raise my eyebrows. I’m supposed to be pissed, not aroused. I clear my throat and use my coolest, most unaffected-sounding tone. “That’s the first thing you’re going to say to me after standing me up last night?”

  “Standing you up?” He stops swinging his keys.

  I continue calmly, albeit slightly lofty, “And making me worry that something awful happened to you and no one would know to tell me? I’d get to find out with the rest of the mainstream? Maybe get a Tweet or Facebook post?”

  “Oh, man, Violet. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that. It was late, too late. You said you’d had a bad day, and I figured you were probably sleeping so I’d just see you today.”

  He reaches for my arm, but I drop them both and turn to walk into my living room. However, I at least hold the door open behind me and wait. I hear Cullen blow out a breath, then the door latches and locks. There’s a tug on my arm, and then I spin and am pressed against his hard chest.

  “Is that really why you’re so mad at me, Violet?”

  I want to look at the floor so I can study the loops of the carpet instead of the intensity of his eyes, but there’s not even enough space for air to flow between us. I don’t know how to go about looking down. I stare at the valley between his pecs instead.

  “I’m not mad.”

  “Bullshit. Yes, you are. Talk to me.”

  “I said I’m not mad. I’m just really disappointed. I wasn’t expecting to have such a hard time getting back into the work routine. I was looking forward to getting to see you last night. Then I woke up this morning and nothing. I flipped out imagining ridiculous things and now you’ve got me trapped, whining like Hollyn. Whatever, it’s fine. It doesn’t matter,” I continue to study the peaks and valleys made by the muscles of his chest and how they rise and fall when he breathes.

  “Of course it matters. You matter and so do your feelings.”

  “No, they really don’t. It’s not a big deal; I’ll be fine.” I make a move to the side, but Cullen steps with me. I guess we’re not done.

  “Hey, Violet? Look at me.”

  I sigh but look anyway. His brow is furrowed and only now do I notice how truly tired he looks. His beard isn’t neatly trimmed like usual and his hair is getting longer. Dark strands are starting to curl behind his ears. He’s actually kind of a hot mess who rolled out of bed just to get here for me. It’s really very sweet.

  I can’t help but soften. “Cullen, I…”

  “Shh, woman,” he smiles and a slow burn replaces the need to escape that started brewing a little bit ago in my stomach. “I’m very sorry for disappointing you. I should have texted like I said I would instead of waiting. It makes sense why that would bother you.”

  Whoa, shit, hang on. That’s an actual apology. What am I supposed to do with it? Can’t say I’ve ever gotten one before.

  “It’s really fine. I’m sorry, too.”

  “Huh? For what?”

  “Um… I don’t know. Getting mad? Being disappointed?”

  “That’s not something to apologize for, Beautiful. You can be mad and disappointed and frustrated and anything else you want to be. Let’s just talk about it, ok? But don’t act like you don’t matter because that’s just gonna make me mad.”

  “Ok, I got it. Can you kiss me now? I mean, you’ve been here, like, fifteen minutes already-”

  He leans in with a smile and presses his lips to mine. My fingers run up his neck, playing with the longer hair that’s there while they can. He slips his tongue in just enough to tangle with the tip of mine, sending tingles through my body to my toes. I let out a little sigh, feeling much better already, and appreciating the power of Cullen’s body against mine.

  Breathing just a little bit heavier, our foreheads touch and I run my hands over his shoulders and down his arms. He shivers.

  “Do you want some breakfast? I can make pancakes.”

  “Mmm, I’ll help you.”

  Holding his hand, I lead him into the kitchen to make breakfast.

  “How did the game go last night?” I pour my cereal back in the box and wipe out the bowl. Handing it to Cullen, I point towards the cabinet where the dishes are. I pull pancake ingredients from the pantry and fridge and dump them in a bowl while he talks.

  “Our Raptors kicked ass. We won by fourteen, which doesn’t seem like much, but we fought hard. Hart didn’t have any interceptions and threw for five touchdowns. He had 405 yards.”

  “That’s insane! If he keeps it up, he could break some records.” I hand him the whisk and he begins to stir. I figure in his e
xcitement, the batter will get mixed exceptionally well. “What about Boone? How many carries?”

  “Twenty three for almost 300 yards.”

  “Holy shit!” I pull the bowl away from him and start pouring little round puddles of batter onto the griddle. “Nice work, Coach. We might have to keep you.”

  “Might? Damn.” He wraps his arms around me as I flip our pancakes over. “If I wasn’t so hungry,” he nibbles on my neck, “and those didn’t smell so fucking amazing, I’d drag you upstairs with me right now, make you keep me.”

  My heart hammers at the insinuation, “You wouldn’t have to drag me, baby.”

  “Ugh, you’re gonna ruin me, Violet,” he pulls on my tank strap with his teeth and lets it fall back.

  I chuckle, “Nah, but I am gonna feed you. You wanna grab the plates and syrup? There’s berries in the fridge if you want some.”

  I have a small café table along the wall and it’s where Cullen puts the plates, forks, syrup, and berries for breakfast. I stand, stunned, in the middle of the kitchen with a mound of pancakes on a plate. “You want to sit at the table?”

  “Yeah, why not? I thought you might want to talk. Do you want to watch TV instead?”

  “No! I mean, yeah, I want to sit at the table.”

  “Ok, well, come on then. We’re all set.”

  I walk to the table, but inside I’m falling. Cullen might as well have every bit of my heart now. I know not all of the pieces are together anymore, but I think I can get them close enough to where maybe the broken parts won’t matter and Cullen won’t even notice I’m not whole.

  With a brief shake of my head to clear it, I sit down to our quaint little breakfast for two.

  ***

  The tension in my belly is building through breakfast as we share easy conversation and tease each other’s feet under the table. It’s getting harder to hold my fork when all I want to do is lean back in my chair and let his toes climb higher up my yoga pants. I have to get up and move before I break all of my new plates by swiping them to the floor on my way to his lap.

  Standing, I take both our plates to the sink and start rinsing off the sticky syrup. Even before I feel his soft lips on my neck, I can feel Cullen’s heat against my back and thighs. I lean into him, pressing my ass into his stiffening cock, and rest my head against his chest.