Dance with a Devil

"Here." John handed her a glass of water. She took it without hesitation but she didn't drink out of it.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" He asked, crossing his arms. Violet shook her head.

It was midnight and John put her in the empty bedroom. Garrett kept calling her but she ignored him. She didn't want to talk to him or see his face.

John rolled his eyes at her and said, "You know where everything is," and closed the door behind him.

Violet's phone started to ring and she groaned really loudly. She didn't want to talk to anyone, she just wanted to be alone and just sleep or something. She had too much to handle in just one day.

"What?!" She answered, harshly.

"Jesus," Cecilia said, relieved. "Vi, are you okay? Garrett called me worried out of his mind about you. He said that you were supposed to go home like four hours ago and you won't answer any of his calls or texts. Where are you?"

"I just want to be alone. Cec."

"Why? What happened?"

"Nothing. Can I call you later?" Violet closed her eyes.

"Vi, you're scaring me. What happened--" But Violet hung up the phone and turned her phone off.

Maybe she was overreacting? What if Rachael just wanted to give back some of Garrett's old stuff or something simple like that? It wasn't an uncommon occurrence–if Violet ever had an ex-boyfriend, then she would return his stuff, too.

"God, I miss this. I miss us."

"I miss you too."

Those words kept coming back to her. She didn't want to hear it. What exes said that? No exes should miss each other–breaking up came with getting over them. And Garrett had Violet and Rachael had whomever.

What if Garrett never got over Rachael?

Violet couldn't sleep, even though she really wanted to. Her mind wouldn't stop working.

She threw the covers off of her body and opened the door. Kennedy's old bedroom was a little down the hall from John's–who's door was wide open. He wasn't even in it.

She went to the living room and found John drinking away while mindless television was on. His eyes weren't even on it–he was staring at a book.

"John?"

He immediately shut it and looked up. His eyebrows furrowed at her and before he could say anything, she pointed to the beer and asked, "Do you have more?"

Violet didn't even wait for an answer, she went over to the fridge and got out another beer and plopped down next to him. She took a giant swig and glanced over at the book that John was reading.

"What book is that?"

John cleared his throat. "Nothing."

Violet pulled it out before John could hide it even further and she raised an eyebrow.

"The Great Gatsby? Wow, John, I didn't expect this at all," she handed it back to him. "It's one of my favorites."

"I know," he said, quietly.

"You can't sleep?" She questioned. John shook his head and took another swig of his beer. Violet imitated him. She never really liked beer or alcohol for that matter. It was addicting, but she didn't like how people turned out because of it.

"Me neither."

John was stiff beside her. Their arms were touching but Violet didn't move away. It was obvious that he was uncomfortable with it, especially with a silence hanging over them (except for the TV that was on). She didn't care.

"Sometimes I wish I was like you–living without a care. I mean, you just really don't care, but sometimes I wish I was like that," Violet admitted. "Then this wouldn't hurt as much."

John was silent.

"Did you like Rachael?"

"Violet," he sighed.

"I know she's like, really smart and kind and super gorgeous and all but–"

"She's a bitch," John said. Violet looked at him, her eyebrows raised.

He shrugged his shoulders. "She strung everyone along, thinking she was all high and fucking mighty but she just left. Garrett's not the same but who fucking cares–she's a bitch."

"Wow." That made Violet feel slightly better. But John hated everyone–he even hated his friends, so what did his opinion matter?

"I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours," Violet suggested, hoping to get something out of him–and for changing the subject, slightly.

John immediately scoffed.

"Fuck no."

Violet sighed, setting the beer down on the coffee table and crossing her arms. It was worth a try.

They were silent for what felt like an eternity. John relaxed a little, but he was still unmoving. Violet felt the tears prick her eyes, but she didn't want John to see her cry so she held it in as best as she could.

She never had a boyfriend before Garrett–he was the first one. She didn't know what it was like to have big fights like this. She didn't know what was overreacting and what was not. She didn't know a lot of things because, well, she and Garrett weren't a crazy couple like that. They loved each other.

"John, who died?" Violet asked, trying to get her mind off Garrett and Rachael. She was also just angry–she wanted to get some damn answers already.

"Don't ask me that," John replied, a harshness in his voice.

"What's in that room you forbade me to go in?"

"Stop, Violet."

"Why does your family hate you?"

"Vi–"

"Why do you hate everyone else?"

"Fucking hell, stop!" John grabbed her shoulders. "Don't ask me any fucking questions, alright? None of it has anything to do with you, so go fix up your fucked up relationship with Garrett before he goes and fucks that ex-girlfriend of his."

Violet was stunned. Her mind couldn't even think of anything to retort back to him. A tear slipped and she turned on her heel and left the living room. She crawled into bed, in the fetal position, and she closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to overcome her.

Violet woke up the next morning, after falling asleep at six am, and she momentarily forgot where she was and had a mini freakout before it all came back to her. She rolled out of bed and groaned.

She entered the kitchen and John was nowhere to be seen. It was good because she did not want any interactions with people at that moment. She wasn't very hungry either, so she just got out some orange juice and drank that.

John came out of his cave a few minutes later, and when he saw Violet in the kitchen, he sighed, as if he was hoping she wasn't there. Violet rolled her eyes and turned away from him, staring out the window.

The silence between them was too awkward and uncomfortable, so Violet left. She walked around the house, staring at the blank, white walls. Her mind was going too haywire to even think properly.

The doorbell rang. And again. And again. John came in and looked at Violet and said, "Looks like your boyfriend figured it out."

"No!" Violet exclaimed, as his hand rested on the door handle. "I'll get it." She wanted to speak to him–not have some intense fight between Garrett and John. She didn't want to the two...friends to fight.

John stepped aside. He stood beside her but was unseen as she slowly opened the door. Garrett wouldn't have been able to see him.

"Vi!" Garrett exclaimed. He looked so relieved to see her. He stepped forward but stopped when he saw the look in her eyes.

"Violet, I'm sorry," he said. "I should have at least told you she would be there."

She glanced at John, who looked incredibly bored. She raised an eyebrow at him and once he noticed, he rolled his eyes and walked away–leaving the conversation to her and Garrett. She stepped out of the house and closed the door behind her.

"Why was she there in the first place, Garrett?" Violet crossed her arms.

"I don't know–she just showed up. She and her boyfriend were apartment hunting and were looking in our complex and she just found me." He tried to take her hands in his but she pulled away.

Violet shook her head. "'I miss you too,'" she imitated.

Garrett sighed. "I don't know why I said that. Honest to God, it just came out. I swear, I didn't mean it. I don't miss her, I don't love her. I love you."

Violet crossed her arms and she looked away from him. She shook her head and stepped backward and opened the door.

"I'll see you later, Garrett."

"No! Violet!" Garrett stopped the door was closing on him. "Please, I'm sorry. I'm so so so sorry. Just come home and we'll sort this all out."

"I have to be here today," Violet said, quietly. She finally got herself to look into Garrett's sad, heartbroken eyes. She wanted to, so badly, run into his arms and kiss him like there was no tomorrow, but she was still upset.

"Violet..." Garrett said, after her.

She closed her eyes and she sighed.

"I'll see you tonight," she whispered, closing the door.

How could a fight turn so badly? Garrett was leaving in a day to go to Florida and she wouldn't see him for two weeks. She already missed him enough as it was. She hated that feeling, she wanted to forgive him.

She just hated Rachael.

Violet wiped a couple tears away and decided to get to work. John was in the living room. When she came in, he looked up at her–she didn't want to see him either. She wished she went to Cecilia's place instead now.

She brushed by him, heading straight for the kitchen, but he caught her hand in his and stopped her.

"Hey," he said, in a low voice.

"What, John?" Violet yanked her hand away. "What could you possibly say to me that would make me feel any worse than I already do?"

John's eyes were on her. His bright green pools that always scrutinized her, or laughed at her, or always gave her a disapproving look. He never liked how Violet was compared to other girls. She wasn't slutty, she wasn't a party girl, she wasn't crazy. She was just Garrett's girlfriend in his eyes. But this time, he was genuinely looking at her–like he was finally able to be a normal person around her.

"I'm sorry."

Violet didn't expect that. She stared up at him, wide eyed.

He shrugged his shoulders and said, "I shouldn't have said what I said last night to you, so I am sorry."

Violet looked away from him for a second and gave him a half smile when she looked back up at him. She nodded her head and said, "Thank you, John."

All he did was take up a beer and plop down on the couch. Violet shook her head and rolled her eyes. It was still progress–he showed he cared for once. Just slightly.

It was enough to make her feel better though. Just slightly.