Between Love and Hate

Ketchup

*Violet's POV*

When Kane tells me it won’t happen again I can’t help but feel upset about it. He made me feel so amazing last night with just his fingers and the thought that I won’t ever feel that way again is so disappointing. I try and think about a time when Jace ever made me feel even half that amount of pleasure and I come up blank. I really shouldn’t be making these kinds of comparisons but I just can’t help it.

It looks as though this drive is going to be another 3 hours of silent treatment from Kane so I pull out my ereader and continue the book I started on the drive up. At one point, my phone vibrates and I see a text from Lucas.

I open it to find a couple of the pictures that we took last night with the message: I post one and you post one?

I type back: Yes! I’ll take the 2nd one.

Lucas: Deal!

I post the picture and tag him in it and then get a notification at almost exactly the same time that he tagged me in a photo. I smile at them. He did a great job editing these. We look good with the Manhattan skyline in the background and I actually like the way I look in that outfit too. I was a little afraid I might regret it when I sobered up.

Not even twenty minutes later, my phone starts vibrating again and I see Jace’s name pop up. I smile and then answer it, “Hey Jace,” I say.

“Care to explain this photo?!” I hear him yell into the phone.

“What do you mean?”

“Who is this guy? Why does he have his arm around you?”

“Lucas is my mom’s neighbour who you don’t need to worry about on account of he’s very gay,” I explain calmly even though I'm irritated that he’s pissed off about a guy putting his arm around me. Then I feel guilty because someone did much more than that, but it wasn’t Lucas.

“Okay, fine. Then let’s discuss your outfit. Or lack thereof. Since when did you start dressing like that?”

“Like what, Jace? A normal person? That’s how literally everyone dresses to clubs.”

“Not you! You don’t even go to clubs. What is happening to you Vi?”

“What do you mean what’s happening to me? I thought you would be happy for me. I’ve been working on my-” I pause and my eyes flicker to Kane briefly before I continue with, “My, you know, my issue for years! I'm finally getting out there.”

He sighs into the phone and says, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m overreacting. I guess I just wish I would have been there with you, you know? It feels like you don’t need me as much anymore and that’s a bit hard for me to handle.” My heart softens at his words.

“I get it. Look, I’m in the car right now heading back to campus, but how about we facetime later? Like after dinner. Maybe around 7ish?” I suggest. I really don’t want to have this conversation with Kane in the car. His presence is making it very hard to concentrate.

“Okay, yeah. I’ll talk to you later. I love you Vi.”

“Love you too,” I say and can’t help but feel really awkward saying that to someone else with Kane sitting beside me, which makes absolutely no sense. The line goes dead and I go back to my book, putting in a large amount of effort not to look over at him.

Several minutes later Kane says, “What issues?”

“What?”

“Violet, come on. I’m not deaf.”

“I don’t really want to discuss this with you,” I tell him. He’s literally the last person I want to discuss this with actually.

“Fine, then I guess I’ll just start making my own assumptions. I didn’t forget what your mother said about recovery at dinner the other day. What was it? Blow?”

“Jesus, no!” I say shocked.

“What then? Oh maybe a s*x addiction? Is that why your boyfriend is so worried about you going out?”

“Seriously?! Obviously not Kane,” I say, getting more frustrated by the second.

“Then what? Oh maybe it was-”

“It was Anorexia! Happy now?!” I yell at him. I’m sure my face is currently the colour of a tomato with how mad I am right now. How can he go from making me feel so incredible to making me feel so unimaginably angry so fast?

I see his face pale a little bit and I can almost see the wheels spinning in his brain as he pieces everything together and a look of horror takes over his features. I wonder if he’s remembering all of the nasty things he used to say to me. Suddenly, we’re pulling off the highway into a gas station parking lot.

He stops the car and cuts the engine but continues to grip the steering wheel and just stares out the window for a few seconds.

He eventually looks over to meet my eyes and I can see the turmoil in his.

“Violet, I-”

“Stop. It doesn’t matter now,” I whisper.

“It matters to me,” He says, a little too seriously for my liking.

“Well, I’m doing a lot better now. So just let it go. Please. Can we just go now?” I ask, hoping to convey how much I do not want to continue this conversation with my eyes.

He just nods and then turns the car back on and continues driving, reverting back to the silence, which it turns out is actually better than having a conversation. I return to my book and find myself so lost in it that I hardly even notice we’ve stopped. I look up and we’re in a diner parking lot.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Just outside of campus. It’s after 1 so we missed lunch. I figured we could eat here,” he says. I narrow my eyes at him.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he says, feigning innocence.

“Yes you are! This is exactly why I don’t tell people about this. I don’t need anybody else monitoring me! Trust me, I have more than enough of that. Besides, I’m not a child. I can handle it myself.”

“Okay, sorry,” he says running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I just- I don’t know. Look, we did miss lunch and we’re here now anyway. Let’s just go eat. Please.”

He asks. The look he gives me when he says please tugs at my heart strings for some reason and I find myself caving in to him. I am kind of hungry and it would be pretty ridiculous to skip lunch for the sake of arguing.

“Fine,” I say, placing my ereader in my bag and grabbing my wallet and then getting out of the car.

I head towards the restaurant, not checking to make sure he’s following me because I know he is. When we walk in, the young woman behind the podium looks right past me and I see her eyes look up and down as they darken lustfully. I ignore the flash of jealousy that assaults me.

“Hi there, how can I help you?” She says in a seductive tone, pushing her chest out a bit further.

“Table for two,” he tells her. The hint of annoyance I sense in his tone makes me happy for whatever reason.

She smiles and says, “Of course, right this way.” She sits us down at a table and then looks directly at Kane and says, “Your waitress will be right over, but if you need anything just let me know,” and then winks at him before walking away.

My mouth drops open. She doesn’t know that we’re not together and she still chose to overtly flirt with him in front of me. The audacity is incredible.

“Jealous, Violet?” He says. I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

I snort and say, “Of course not. I’m just surprised by her lack of tact.”

“Yes, she is the epitome of class. Flirting with men who are presumably taken,” he says sarcastically. Hearing him say that causes something in me to stir. The fact that he also considered that it looks like we’re a couple makes me feel things I really should not be feeling.

He’s thankfully looking down at his menu and can’t see the pink tinge I’m sure is colouring my cheeks. I pick up the menu and divert all of my attention to it. I realize that I’m staring at it but not actually reading anything when our waitress makes an appearance.

“Good Afternoon, what can I get for you today?” She says with a smile.

“I’ll have a club sandwich with fries and coffee please,” Kane tells her.

“I’ll have the same please,” I say because I have literally no idea what else is on the menu. I place the unread menu down on the table and look up to find a set of dark eyes looking at me with some unknown expression.

I find myself unable to tear my eyes away from his and just as he’s about to open his mouth to say something, the waitress comes back with our coffees. She sets them down, breaking my concentration. I look at her and say thank you before focussing very hard on opening a little container of milk, pouring it in my cup and stirring it around.

“Violet,” he says in his unnecessarily sexy, low voice. The way he says my name with his accent does things to my insides. I look up through my eyelashes and my heart rate tics up when I meet his eyes.

“Yes?” I say softly.

“Nevermind,” he says, and then looks down at his coffee. We sit there and sip our drinks in silence until the food comes. We then proceed to eat our sandwiches in silence and the knot in my stomach has me picking at my fries but not able to actually eat any of them.

I push my plate away and Kane looks at me and says, “You’re not going to eat those?”

I roll my eyes and say, “Seriously? I just told you I don’t need-”

“Woah, woah, I didn’t mean it that way. I was just gonna eat them if you’re not,” he says, and once again I see the corners of his mouth begin to twitch up before the serious face is back. I smile a little bit and then push my plate towards him and say, “They’re all yours.”

He pulls my plate over his and then pours a ton of ketchup overtop of them.

“Do you want some fries with your ketchup?” I ask sarcastically.

His eyes snap to mine and there’s a glint of amusement behind them.

“What? Are you a ketchup hater or something?” He says, narrowing his eyes jokingly.

“No, I just like tasting what I’m eating,” I say, raising an eyebrow. I think about how this is the most normal conversation we’ve ever had and I’m just waiting for something to ruin it.

“I liked tasting you,” He blurts out. I clench my legs together to stop the pulsing that begins between them. Before I can say anything, the waitress comes over and says, “Can I get you guys anything else?”

He doesn’t break eye contact with me when he says, “Just the bill, thanks.”

She walks away and I feel moisture forming in my underwear as he continues to hold my gaze. How is this even possible? My brain can’t even process what is happening right now. I feel like my hormones are out of control. Something must be wrong with me.

Once again, the waitress interrupts our strange stare down situation by handing Kane the bill. He reaches into his wallet, throws some bills down on the table and then says, “We should go.”

“Yeah, we should,” I tell him. My voice comes out more breathlessly than I had intended.