Between Love and Hate

I Have a Boyfriend

*Violet's POV*

The rest of orientation week passed by rather quickly. I went to see my therapist on Wednesday. She seemed nice enough and mostly just asked me general questions about my file and my history.

I told her about Stella and about Kane and my mother and the trip this weekend. She seemed to think it would be good for me to see her but I’m not so sure. I also left out the kiss between Kane and me. I keep trying to convince myself that if I don’t say it out loud, maybe it never happened in the first place.

I spoke with Jace Wednesday after my therapy session and told him about this weekend. He had to cut the conversation short again because of football practice but told me that if I needed anything over the weekend to call him.

By the time Friday morning rolls around, I am sitting in bed scrolling through social media, trying to stop myself from letting my anxiety take over and failing miserably.

“Geez Vi, you’re gonna bite your lip off soon.” I release my lip from between my teeth and look over at Stella.

“Sorry,” I say.

“Don’t apologize to me, it’s your lip. Also, just relax, it’s only a couple days. I’m sure your mom will be happy to see you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I just nod, even though that’s not it at all. Kane is making me way more nervous than my mother is. I have to spend 3 hours in a car alone with him. I would be lying if I said a small part of me wasn’t hoping for something to happen like it did the other day and I hate myself for it. I shouldn’t be thinking these things about someone else when I have a boyfriend who I love. And not just “someone else”, my step-brother, to be precise. My step-brother who also happens to be a complete asshole and who I’m 97% sure hates me.

I packed yesterday so I don’t really have anything to do.

“I think I’m going to go for a run,” I tell Stella.

“Do you want company?” She asks.

“You run?”

“Sometimes. Not as much as you obviously, but I really would love to get into it. And it could be fun having someone to run with.”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good to me.”

We change and then head out together. We set an easy pace and chat idly as we run. It’s kind of nice to have company. We run about 5 miles and then head back to the dorms for a shower before lunch.

After my shower, I put on some capri leggings, a t-shirt and a loose plaid shirt. I figure I may as well be comfortable for the drive. While we’re eating in the cafeteria, I get a text from Kane saying that he’ll pick me up in 30 and asking which dorm I’m in so I tell him and then we head back to our room.

Right on schedule, I get a text from him saying he’s here and I give Stella a quick hug goodbye and she tells me to text her when we get there and to call if “things go t**s up” as she so graciously put it. I grab my small duffle and backpack and head outside.

When I get downstairs, I see Kane leaning against his very pretty black Porsche with a cigarette in his mouth and I get the urge to pull it out of his mouth and either take a drag or kiss him. I snap myself out of it and look at the ground. Neither of those are viable options. I used to smoke a little because I heard that cigarettes are appetite suppressants. Part of my recovery involved ditching cigarettes. And, obviously, Kane, in general, is completely off-limits.

He presses a button and the trunk opens up. He makes no move to come and help me which is momentarily surprising because I know Jace would. I place my duffle inside, but keep my backpack with me and walk over to the passenger door. He still hasn’t said a single word, or really even looked in my direction. He tosses the cigarette butt on the pavement and stomps it out, getting into the driver seat. I get in and place my bag between my feet.

He waits until my seatbelt snaps and then starts to drive without a word. We sit in silence for a bit until we are just outside of campus.

“I have a boyfriend,” I blurt out and immediately feel my cheeks flush. I mentally facepalm myself. Why did I just say that?

“Good for you,” he replies in a completely monotone voice. I sneak a glance in his direction and see that he looks entirely unphased by this. Does he not remember what happened? Did he not feel the same things I felt when we kissed?

“Sorry, I- I don’t know why I said that,” I say quietly. He doesn’t reply, but instead turns up the music. I can almost feel his hatred and indifference rolling off of him in waves. I decide to take out my e-reader to kill some time. I stare at the pages, not actually reading anything, hoping that maybe I hallucinated my outburst.

He makes me so nervous. Just sitting in the car with him, I feel this weird tension in my stomach. But it’s entirely possible that the cause is going to see my mother and Harper and not Kane’s presence. At least, that's what I convince myself. The entire drive passes in awkward silence and is probably the longest 3 hours of my life.

We pull up to what can only be described as a mansion. It’s different than all the others on the street though. It’s very architecturally interesting and most of the outside walls are entirely made of glass. It’s honestly very intimidating.

I get out, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and meeting Kane at the back of the car as he opens the trunk. My bag is first so I reach for it and my hand collides with his and a shock of electricity shoots from my fingers to my elbow. My eyes widen and snap to his dark ones and I see them go even darker before he glares at me and then jerks his arm away and averts his gaze. Apparently touching hands is offensive now somehow? I roll my eyes and grab my bag quickly, taking a few steps away from the car while he grabs his.

I follow him up the drive and to the front door. He pauses in front of it but makes no move to knock or open it. Should I say something? I decide against that seeing as I have no more of a clue than he does on how I’m supposed to act here.

After a couple more seconds, he settles on knocking and then stands back and waits. A lady in plain black pants and a button up shirt answers the door. I assume this is the housekeeper.

“Mr. Owen, Ms. Shaw,” she says, opening the door wider to allow us entrance. As we step inside, I notice the shiny floors and the white walls with various modern art pieces hanging on them. Off to the left of the foyer is a staircase with glass rails. I guess my mother isn’t into double staircases anymore.

As the lady shuts the door behind us, I see my mother and Harper walk around a corner and over to us. Harper has on his usual cold, detached expression and he’s looking unnecessarily good in grey dress pants and a dark blue shirt with the top couple buttons undone. It’s actually a little alarming how similar him and Kane look. He does not look like he’s in his forties at all.

My mom is walking beside him with her perfectly highlighted blonde hair and a tight grey dress that goes down to her knees and has sleeves to pretend she’s being modest when really her figure is entirely visible and her cleavage is on full display. I also don’t miss the giant diamonds on her neck, in her ears and on her finger.

She’s got a giant fake smile plastered on her face and I struggle to keep mine neutral as she walks up and says, “Violet, I’m so happy you’re here. I’ve missed you,” and hugs me. I hug her back loosely, not wanting to be rude to her in her own home.

“Hi mom,” I reply. She takes a step back, and I look at Harper, who is standing there silently, making no move to greet his son and say, “Good afternoon Harper, it’s good to see you again. Thank you for inviting me this weekend,” with a polite smile.

He regards me coolly and says, “Of course Violet, you are always welcome here,” in his silky smooth voice.

“Right well, we will have your bags brought up to your rooms and we can all go get a drink and then I can give you a tour of the house. How does that sound Violet?” Harper asks me. I don’t miss how Kane shoots him a glare when he addresses me directly.

“That sounds perfect,” I say with a polite smile once again. I drop my bags and follow him and my mother past the staircase to an entertainment room with a bar off to one side.

He pours two glasses of Chivas Regal 25, hands one to Kane and then pours some red wine into a glass, which he hands to my mother and then looks at me and says, “What would you like?”

“I’ll have one of those, please,” I say pointing at his scotch. His eyes snap to mine and I quickly add, “if that’s okay with you, I mean I-”

“No, it’s fine. Neat?” I just nod and he takes out another glass, pours the liquor into it and hands the glass to me. He watches me curiously as I take the glass.

“Her father is a bourbon drinker,” my mother explains.

“It’s scotch,” me, Kane and Harper all say at the same time. I bite back a smug smile and instead focus on the drink, inhaling deeply before taking a sip.

“So your father is a whiskey man?”

I nod and say, “I spent most of my teens learning about them and tasting them with him.”

“I see. I know very little about bourbon, though seeing as I live in America now I should probably start learning. What would you recommend?”

“Well, you can’t really go wrong with anything Michter’s or Van Winkle.”

“I will take note of that. Shall we start the tour?” I nod and he and my mom begin showing us around the house. Everything is sleek and modern and very…cold. It actually doesn’t seem like anybody even lives here. It feels like it was built and designed to be a show home, which actually, it probably was, knowing my mother.

After they finish showing us around the main floor and the backyard pool and gardens, and point out the guest house that Lana stays in, my mother says, “Right, so we have made dinner reservations and will be leaving in about an hour.”

She eyes me up and down and says, “We will need you to look more presentable Violet. I will show you to your room and you can get ready.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes as she leads me up the stairs and down the hall. She points to my room and then to the bathroom I will be sharing with Kane, whose room is directly across the hall from mine.

I open the door and find it has almost as much personality as the rest of the house. There is a large king size bed in the center of the back wall with a white duvet and dark purple accent pillows. All of the furniture is black and there are a few abstract art pieces all following the purple, black and white colour scheme on the walls. I see my bags sitting on the little bench at the foot of the bed.

I take out my straightener and some makeup and set them down on the vanity. I use the straightener to loosely curl the ends of my hair like Stella taught me and then put on a little bit of makeup. I don’t think I can pull off a full look like Stella did without having to redo it multiple times and I don’t have the time or energy for that. I then pull my new dark green dress from the bag, figuring if my mother is wearing a dress, I should too.

It’s tighter at the top, flares out around my waist to mid-thigh and has off the shoulder sleeves. It’s something I never would have considered wearing before, and even now as I look in the mirror, I have to fight back the urge to layer more clothes on top to cover myself up. I check the time and argue that I don’t have enough to change even if I wanted to so I force myself to walk out of the room. If people see me, there’s no turning back, right? I gulp down the remainder of my scotch and head out.