Unbeknownst to their parents, Violet and Cole had a clandestine 9-month relationship before parting ways following Cole's injury, courtesy of Paige. Despite the messy breakup, Violet managed to maintain a positive connection with the Walters, except...
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Violet slouched on the bleachers, arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she tried to tune out the chatter of the crowd below. The field was buzzing with life—students in clusters, laughter rising in bursts, the thrum of bass spilling from someone's speaker. And there she was, deliberately on the edge, trying to make herself invisible.
Dylan dropped down beside her, the wooden plank creaking under his weight. He nudged her shoulder lightly with his own, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. "You're coming, right?"
Violet barked out a laugh that was all disbelief and no humor. "No, Dylan. I'm not."
He tilted his head, feigning shock. "What do you mean, no?"
"I mean—" she gestured broadly toward the swarm of students on the grass, "—be around all the people who hate me? Yeah, not exactly my vibe." Her voice was sharp, but there was that undertone—the one that gave her away when she was more hurt than she wanted to admit.
Dylan's grin softened into something warmer. He leaned back on his elbows, squinting up at the fading sky. "No one can hate you, Miss Fields," he said, his voice light but certain. Then he glanced sideways at her, his grin returning. "And if they do, that's their problem. You can come with us."
Before she could roll her eyes at him properly, a shadow fell over them. Erin.
She stood there, polished as always, with that calculating little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Violet stiffened instantly, her stomach flipping in irritation. Erin never approached without an agenda.
"I can take you," Erin said smoothly, her gaze fixed on Violet. "If you want."
The words hung there, unexpected. Dylan raised his brows, flicking his gaze between the two girls like he'd just witnessed a plot twist. Violet, on the other hand, felt the heat rise in her chest. Erin—the girl who had made her life a quiet hell in whispers and looks, the girl whose claws were permanently dug into Cole—was offering her a ride?
Violet scoffed, her lips curling. "Yeah, because that wouldn't be awkward at all."
Erin shrugged, as if Violet's skepticism meant nothing. "It's just a ride, Violet. Don't flatter yourself."
The jab landed, but Violet refused to flinch. Instead, she tilted her head, her voice deceptively sweet. "Aw, Erin, look at you trying to be generous. Almost feels... out of character."
Dylan laughed under his breath, clearly enjoying the sparks flying between them. "Man, this is better than the game," he muttered, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
Erin didn't take the bait. Her expression didn't falter, but her eyes glimmered with something sharper, colder. "Think about it," she said lightly, her tone too smooth, too casual. "It might be the only ride you get."
And with that, she turned on her heel, her ponytail swishing as she walked off toward the cluster of cheerleaders gathering by the track.
Violet exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "God, she makes me sick."
