Off The Record

Chapter 2

Violet slid into the passenger seat of his sleek car, the atmosphere immediately thick with unresolved history.

"So," he began, his voice light, "how have you been spending your time since I saw you last?"

She stared at him, her chest tightening as his casual tone washed over her. Is he seriously trying to do this right now?

"Are you actually doing this?" she snapped, her voice vibrating with disbelief. "Five years of absolute radio silence, and you're sitting there chatting like we're old college buddies catching up at a cafe?"

He offered a slow, easy shrug, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as if her fury were nothing more than an amusing performance.

"Come on," he said. "Five years is a long time to hold onto a grudge. I'm just trying to make polite conversation here."

Her jaw ached from clenching it so hard. She crossed her arms, keeping her expression masked and guarded, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply his absence had scarred her.

"We are way past polite conversation," she cut in, her voice cold and flat.

He held up a hand, the playful smirk finally slipping off his face as the sharp edge of her words hit home.

The air in the car turned dense, heavy with a sudden, suffocating quiet as he steered the vehicle the rest of the way to the secluded scenic overlook.

He pulled to a stop, cutting the engine. A brooding silence settled between them, broken only by the low hum of the cooling motor. Without a word, he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned entirely in his seat to face her.

When their eyes locked, the teasing barrier was gone. His gaze softened, unexpectedly heavy with a deep, lingering affection that caught her completely off guard.

"I'm serious," he murmured, his voice dropping the playful edge entirely, sounding raw and completely genuine. "I really do want to know how you've been."

Her brows knitted together, a bitter, disbelieving laugh slipping past her lips. "What? What do you mean you want to know how I've been? The real question is, where have you been?"

She shook her head, turning her gaze back out toward the windshield, suddenly exhausted by the sheer absurdity of it all.

Honestly, she didn't even care anymore. Wherever he had spent the last five years was his business, and looking at him now—with the sleek car and the undeniable proof that he had carved out quite a successful life for himself while she had simply survived—she realized just how much time they had both lost.

"You know what? It doesn't matter," she muttered, her voice tight and dismissive. "Just say whatever it is you brought me out here to say so we can get this over with. I only came because we're supposed to be working together, and I wanted to keep some professional decorum. I have no interest in dredging up the past. Just say your piece so I can go home and rest."

He stared at her for a long moment, his defensive armor slowly cracking. A heavy, humorless sigh slipped past his lips as he looked down at his hands gripping the steering wheel.

"You think I wanted any of this?" His voice was rough, strained with a weight he hadn't let anyone else see. "I know an apology doesn't fix half a decade, and I know you want to pretend this is just a cold business arrangement. But I tried, okay? I tried to stay away, I tried to move on, and I spent years telling myself it was for the best. I can't do it. I spent five years trying to live a life without you in it, and it doesn't work. I can't do without you."

He looked back up at her, his eyes dark with an intensity that made the air in the car feel suffocating.

"You think I didn't want to reach out?" His voice dropped, thick with self-reproach. "I haven't stopped thinking about you, not for a single day in five years. I wanted to call, I wanted to find you, but I just... I couldn't get the courage to do it. I was terrified of what you'd say, of how much I'd ruined things."

He gripped the wheel tighter, his knuckles whitening as his expression stripped away every remaining defense. "The only reason I came to town, the only reason I took this project, was because I needed to find a way back to you. I've been searching for any means, any excuse to cross that bridge and see you again, even when I didn't have the guts to actually do it."

If anything, the lingering echo of his plea only made her jaw tighten further, the pity-me routine grating on every last nerve she had left.

She turned sharply away, her gaze locking onto the passenger window as a bitter chill settled over her features.

"I didn't come here for an apology, and I certainly didn't come to listen to excuses about your lack of courage," she cut in.

"Take me back. Now."

He stared at her for a beat, the sting of her rejection hitting him squarely in the chest. For a second, he looked like he wanted to argue, to push back and beg for just five more minutes. But looking at the icy wall she had thrown up, he swallowed hard, nodded stiffly, and put the car back in drive.

The return trip was worse—a suffocating silence stretching for miles until he finally pulled up to a quiet, dimly lit transit stop across town, far enough from her actual home that he still had zero clue where she lived.

Instead of turning off the engine, he kept his hands glued to the steering wheel, casting one last desperate look her way as her hand hovered over the door handle.

"I can't just let you walk away like this," he said, his voice strained and raw with frustration. "Not after I finally found you again."

She didn't even bother looking back at him. Her fingers pushed the door open, letting in the cool midnight air and the distant hum of the city, and she stepped out onto the curb without a single word. He sat frozen in the driver's seat, watching her figure recede into the shadows before he finally shifted gears and drove off into the night.

Violet stood on the curb, the cool midnight air stinging her face as tears blurred her vision. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and when she pulled it out, she saw a message from her sister: "Do you mean Ezra Blackwood?" It was a reply to the text Violet had sent earlier that afternoon, saying she had run into her ex.

Moments later, her phone rang—it was her sister calling.

The voice on the other end was full of concern, asking, "How are you doing, Violet?"

Violet sniffed, swiping at her tears as she replied. "I don't know," she admitted, her tone heavy with exhaustion. "I honestly don't know how I'm supposed to feel about any of this." She let out a shaky breath, the weight of the night finally catching up to her. "I just... I didn't expect to see him again, and it's all just so overwhelming. To think I have to keep working with him throughout this tournament."

Her sister paused on the line, the tone shifting entirely. "Violet... you might want to check the tournament portal right now. They've updated the tournament rosters, and you and Ezra are now assigned as direct partners for the upcoming project."

Violet's breath hitched, the cold night air suddenly feeling entirely suffocating.

Did he do this?