"I can't leave you alone for a minute," Zane says with a wry smile. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," I say quickly. "I had everything under control, actually. You can go back to having fun with Taylor."
Zane stares briefly up at the dark sky. "We're not doing this again," he groans.
"Doing what?" I snap. "If you want to hang out with my cousin every time my back is turned, be my guest! I just came outside to do my own thing."
"Yeah, does doing your own thing include getting groped by some asshole?"
"Apparently!" I shriek, throwing my hands up.
Zane shakes his head. Why does he look like he wants to laugh? "We're not doing this again," he repeats tiredly.
"Yeah, we aren't! So go back to flirting with your little girlfriends—I don't give a damn."
"Violet," he sighs. "What can I do to convince you that I won't cheat on you?"
I run a hand through my wild hair. "I don't know! Every time I turn around, you're talking to another girl. And they're always pretty. Why can't they ever be fat? Really fat?"
Zane just laughs. "Talking doesn't mean cheating. You know that, right?"
"Tell that to my dad and Matt," I say bitterly.
"Yeah, well, I'm not them. I don't cheat. Alright?" He leans down to look me in the eye.
"But you're hiding something," I whisper.
"It's not what you think. I will tell you, just not..."
"Just not now." I turn my back to him. "That's part of why I can't trust you."
Zane is silent for a moment. "So what do you want to do?" he asks finally.
"I don't want to fight," I say.
"What do you want to do?" he repeats.
I lean back against him. His arms go around my waist, pulling me against his warmth. "I want to feel how soft your bed is," I say quietly.
"Let's go."
Zane takes my hand and we practically run towards the valet. While we're waiting for them to get his car, someone screams hideously.
I slip my phone out of the little pocket in my dress and reluctantly answer. "Mom?"
"Please tell me you're somewhere close by," she says in a rush. "Great Grandma Frances is throwing a huge fit, and you're the only one that can calm her down."
I glance at Zane. He's watching me intently. "I'll be right there," I groan.
"Hurry, Violet!"
"Great Grandma emergency," I tell him after I've hung up. "She's going nuts in there, and I'm the only one she responds to."
Zane lets his head fall forward. “When you and I finally I happen, I may not survive it,” he mutters, staring down at the ground.
“I, uh, I’ll talk to you later, I guess?”
I start forward to kiss him, but he quickly backs off. “Nope. Don’t touch me right now.”
“What? Why not?” I frown at him.
A little self-deprecating smile plays about his beautifully-made mouth. “Trust me, it would be a bad idea. I’ll call you later, okay?”
Zane’s car appears like magic. A valet hops out of the driver’s seat, looking thrilled to have been behind the wheel of such an awesome car.
“Okay,” I say in a dazed voice. I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I wave awkwardly. “See you later?”
He stops to look at me before getting into the Aston Martin. “Definitely.”
How does this keep happening? I look to the heavens for an answer, and do you know what I get?
A raindrop in the eye.
But the real treat is waiting for me in the ballroom, where Great Grandma is in the process of removing every last stitch of her clothing. It's time for her bath, she says.
Wow. Naked old woman flesh kills the mood. Kills it real good.
I may never have sex.
Chapter 25
The next time I see Damon at school, I shoot him an evil glare. He looks away guiltily. This confirms my suspicions of him being an impregnator.
"Do the right thing," I mutter to him as we pass each other in the hall.
He stares at me, wide-eyed, then hurries away.
Really, Lauren, how could you have gotten involved with someone like him? He's cute, but there's not much going on back there.
So I've decided to start writing again. I update all my web pages, answer as much fans’ questions as I can, and sit at my computer, waiting for some ideas to hit.
Nothing comes to mind. I didn’t anticipate how hard it would be to get back into my characters’ world after months of not thinking about them at all. And I keep getting distracted. While I should be thinking of plot lines, I find myself surfing the web for funny cat videos. Then Mom calls me down to help her with the Christmas decorations.
Ugh, Christmas! What am I going to get everyone? I still don't know about my present for Zane. We wandered into a local gallery in some tiny town once, and Zane had pointed out an exquisite sculpture of a beautiful mermaid sitting on a rock. It had reminded him of a painting he used to be fascinated with as a kid. He even joked that the mermaid looked like me.