Dance with a Devil

Violet sighed and Garrett squeezed her hand. He had offered to give her a ride to John's and even told her he'd give her a ride back. He even walked up with her to his front door and waited as she rang the doorbell.

She straightened her black rimmed glasses and fiddled with her shirt. Would he care that she showed up? Would he be angry that she didn't on Friday? She had no idea what he would do.

John opened the door but stopped when he saw Garrett.

"Hey, man--" Garrett started but John's eyes told him to shut up.

Violet watched closely, trying to find any evidence on his face or body language of missing his friends and the band, but she saw nothing. John glared at the two of them, annoyed, waiting for Garrett to leave.

Violet kissed Garrett on the lips and mumbled a goodbye. The look in his eyes looked so disappointed and sad, Violet didn't want to leave him. She felt terrible even though it was absolutely not her fault.

She turned back to John, who's face changed; he looked angry. She stepped inside and once he closed the door, he said,

"I didn't think you'd show."

Violet shrugged and said, "I just assumed you were annoyed at me so I thought I'd skip Friday and just come today."

John didn't say anything. He went to his room, leaving Violet all by herself in the foyer. The empty and blank foyer. She grimaced at how there was nothing on the gigantic wall in front of her. Why didn't he have any pictures or paintings?

She sighed and proceeded to work on what she left off on last time--which was the bedrooms. She picked up the stuff that John left for her (which was rather kind of him) and continued to work.

There were four bedroom in John's place. His bedroom, two guest bedrooms, and then the room that John forbade Violet to go in.

She finished the guest room, making it neat and orderly, like a hotel service. When she walked out into the hallway, music came out of John's room, and it wasn't from a radio--it was him.

Violet pressed her ear against the door and heard him singing. She didn't know what the song was and nor did she even recognize anything from it, but John was singing. It made her so excited that she jumped slightly, knocking over a giant plastic tree and falling on the ground, making quite a clatter.

John yanked the door open and looked around and found Violet on the floor. He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Uh, hi," She said, scrambling to get up.

"What are you doing?"

"I tripped," Violet replied, as-a-matter-of-factly. "I need to clean your room, John."

He stared at her. His green eyes were scrutinizing her and she suddenly felt uneasy. He always did that. Whenever she walked into a room full of girls, John always made her feel like the least pretty one. Even though she never dressed to please him, those green eyes always caught her off guard.

John moved aside and let her in. Violet looked around--it was the same as it was when she climbed through his window. She still felt John's eyes on her but she tried her best to ignore it. She started with his bathroom, where he couldn't see her.

"Am I paying you?" John asked, suddenly.

"Uh," That was a good question. "I don't know. I came here voluntarily, didn't I?"

"Good, 'cause I don't have money." He said. Violet rolled her eyes and continued scrubbing his bathtub.

She finished the bathroom and moved to his actual bedroom and tidied the place up. John was sitting on the bed, rifling through Violet's book that she always brought with her. This time it was The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

There was complete silence between them as Violet cleaned around and John read her book. There were times when she felt his stare on her, but she tried her best to ignore it. At one point she gave him a look and he looked away with a smirk on his face.

While John was in the bathroom and Violet was cleaning underneath his bed, she stumbled upon a rather gigantic cardboard box that barely fit underneath his bed. She pulled it out and looked at the closed bathroom door and shrugged. What would John do if she opened it?

There were photos. Hundreds and hundreds of photos and Violet was awed. They were mostly family photos and she even found some of The Maine. She found herself in a couple, too. A smile found its way onto her face as she rifled through them. John came out of the bathroom and he stopped.

"How did you find that?" He asked, pointing to the box.

"It's not like you hid it in a proper place." Violet shrugged, holding up a particular picture of her, Garrett, and John. "These are really nice, John."

He was staring at the picture in her hands. It was taken on a day they all went up to Prescott on a long weekend when none of them had anything particular going on. It was about a year ago during winter, just before Christmas, and they rented out a cabin that they all shared. It was Violet, Garrett, John, Kennedy, Jared, Pat, Tim, his girlfriend Ashley, Cecilia, Austin Gibbs, and Eric Halvorsen. Eric, the fabulous photographer, snapped a picture of the three in in front of John's white truck. Violet was in between them and Garrett was kissing her cheek while John was looking at them. It looked like he was grossed out, which made the picture so funny.

"Don't you remember this day?" She said, noticing his gaze. "I remember you threw me into the hottub. I will never forgive you for that." She grinned, trying to get something out of him, but nothing did.

"Put them away." John commanded.

"Why don't you put them up?" Violet suggested. "You have this gigantic white wall in your foyer that's completely empty. Why not make like a gigantic collage with these pictures?"

"Because I don't want to." John snapped, snatching the pictures away. He took the box and stuffed them in his closet. He turned around at Violet, who looked shocked.

"What's wrong with the pictures, John?" She asked, quietly.

"I just don't want them up, Violet." John said, almost exasperated. Her eyes were on his, studying him, and he glared at her back.

"Why?" Violet asked, adamantly. She wasn't going to give up so easily. "These are happy pictures. Why wouldn't you want them up?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you." He said, turning away from her.

Violet stood up and reached out to touch him. He didn't jerk away but he flinched slightly when her fingers touched his arm.

"Come on, John. Let me make your wall pretty. It's actually really bothering me..." She said, honestly.

"No." He said, simply.

"Please?"

"Why?" John asked, looking at her. "Why the hell do you care so damn much? It's just a bunch of fucking pictures and I don't give two shits about that white wall. Leave it alone."

"But--" She stopped herself. The look John gave her wasn't annoyance or exasperation, it was a, "Please stop pursuing this subject because you don't really know the real reason." She sighed and she nodded.

"Alright, I'm sorry."

John didn't do anything. He crossed his arms and looked everywhere but her, leaving an awkward silence between the two of them. Violet couldn't keep her eyes off of him. She really wanted to know her deal.

"I'll make you dinner, John." Violet said, setting down all her cleaning supplies. John looked at her with a confused expression but she rolled her eyes--he should have seen it coming.

She ended up making a family dish of country gravy chicken and mashed potatoes. John had all of those stored up in the refrigerator in his garage and she decided to make use of it. He didn't look as annoyed that she was staying--in fact, he looked alright with it. He stayed in the kitchen and watched her as she worked.

Violet handed him his plate and the two of them sat down before the TV while watching some How I Met Your Mother on Netflix. His silence was killing her but she didn't want to pressure him in anyway. That day had too many instances of a broken John, and not an angry John. She wanted to see the real him.

Their eyes turned back to the TV and they didn't say anymore. Just as Violet got up to take her plate into the kitchen and set it in the sink, she felt herself slip and fall right into John, just as he got up as well.

"Ah! Sorry!" She exclaimed, quickly trying to get up. John caught her and lifted her up, with a smirk on his face. It was the second time that day that she fell in front of him.

"Violet?" John said, when she ran to the kitchen. She called back and said, "Yeah?"

John walked into the kitchen and he leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. Violet was already washing the dishes.

"You can do whatever the hell you want with that damn wall--just don't use the pictures." He said. It caused Violet to snap her head up and look at him, "Really?"

John shrugged. "You're right--it's too bare."

"Wow, John. I didn't think you'd actually let me do something like that." She said, honestly. One hand was on her hip but her eyes were staring right into his. John looked sincere--he wasn't playing a trick on her.

"Well, then you're gonna see a lot of me, John." Violet said. "I hope you don't mind that."

She looked up at him to see what his reaction was but he frozen--exactly how he was before. Not even a subtle smirk. He turned around on his heel and went back to the TV while Violet cleaned up and got ready to go home and snuggle up with Garrett.

Violet was right when she said that John was improving. The little things were starting to break his shell.