“I would never ghost Amy. She’s gonna be working with me on the movie set, remember?”
Violet comes to a stop outside one of the bedroom doors and turns around. She looks deflated. “You didn’t feel a spark with her when you kissed her?”
No, I felt a forest fire, I think. I felt fireflies. But what I say is, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Violet crosses her arms. “Listen to me, Colin. It’s imperative you do something extremely un-Colin-like and tell that sweet girl exactly what you’re feeling, even if it’s going to hurt her feelings. Better to hurt her now and tell her, honestly, you’re just not feeling it, rather than stringing her along and giving her hope. The worst thing in the world is having feelings for someone and getting just enough positive feedback to make you keep holding onto hope, when in fact, there’s none to be had.”
I press my lips together but say nothing.
“Promise you’ll be completely honest with her,” Violet says. “Let her down easy this morning, if you’re not feeling it. It’s obvious she likes you. Don’t toy with her emotions, if you don’t feel the same way.”
“Why do you think I came straight here last night and didn’t call her?” I shout. “Precisely because I didn’t want to lead her on after that kiss!”
“Yeah, but running away after a kiss doesn’t solve anything, if you didn’t also tell her you didn’t feel a spark.” She stares me down. “You ran away right after the kiss without saying a word to her, didn’t you? Without telling her the kiss didn’t do it for you?”
“Uh, no. I definitely said something to her after the kiss. Unfortunately, it was a whole bunch of shit I should never have said.”
Violet’s eyebrows ride up to her dark bangs. “What does that mean?”
I press my lips together.
“Colin Beretta.”
I sigh. “I blew it, Violet. I said a bunch of dirty stuff I wanted to do to her, including The Sure Thing.”
Violet gasps.
“And then we ran into our mothers, and I realized my mistake and sprinted away like a bat out of hell.”
“And came up here, without talking to her again? Colin! You’re telling me that’s the last thing Amy heard from you last night—you whispering a whole bunch of dirty-talk into her ear after kissing her?”
I nod sheepishly.
“Colin Beretta! You’re a goddamned prick!”
“I know. I told you I fucked up!”
“But you didn’t tell me how badly you fucked up. That’s deplorable. You asshole!”
“I know, Vi. But, hey, on the bright side, Amy and I were both really drunk when we kissed. Maybe she was so drunk, she won’t even remember anything that happened on that patio last night. The kiss. What I said after it. The fact that I ran away like a douchebag. Maybe she’ll wake up and not remember any of it.”
I look at Violet hopefully, but she shakes her head with disdain.
“I wouldn’t count on that.”
I rub my face. “A boy can dream.”
“I think you mean a douchebag can dream.”
“Tomato. Tomahto.”
Violet exhales an ocean of annoyance with me. “What’s the roadblock here? I don’t get it. Is it just that she’s Logan sister?”
“That’s not a minor thing, Vi.”
“Yes, it is. Who cares if Logan’s her brother? Amy’s an adult who’s not related to you by blood, and your mutual chemistry last night was through the roof. I’m sure Logan would be thrilled for his brother-from-another-mother and his sister to—"
“No. Logan might be thrilled for me to ride off into the sunset with his sister, but anything short of that, if things didn’t work out and I wound up hurting Amy—which, let’s face it, is the most likely scenario—then my friendship with Logan would never be the same again. It might even be destroyed.”
“That seems a tad bit dramatic.”
“It’s not.” I run my hand through my hair. “But you’re right that’s not the only thing. The bigger thing is how much history there is between Amy and me. The stakes feel way too high, right out of the gate, for me to jump into something with her. I could never casually ‘date’ her and see where things lead, at any semblance of a normal pace. You said yourself Amy thinks I walk on water, and that’s a huge problem. It’s way, way too much pressure.”
Violet rolls her eyes. “Okay, then, be brave enough to show Amy you don’t walk on water and take it from there. Problem solved, dummy.”
I scoff. “My mother told me last night she’s always dreamed of having Beretta-O’Brien grandbabies.”
Violet gasps in horror—and, finally, I feel the slightest bit validated by her—like Violet is finally understanding my perspective.
“And on top of that little nugget,” I add, feeling emboldened, “Amy has never had casual sex. She’s not going to jump into a fling with me and see where it leads and not get heartbroken if I don’t meet her extremely high expectations in the end. It’d be all or nothing with her, out of the gate, and I’d know that going in, and that’s too much pressure and expectation for me to take on. At least, not while sober. No fucking thanks.”
Violet doesn’t look quite as pissed at me as she did earlier. In fact, she looks mildly sympathetic. “Either way,” she says, “you need to talk to Amy now. We invited her to brunch, and she seemed excited about it. Plus, like you said, she’s going to be working with you and staying at your place. You can’t simply pretend that kiss didn’t happen.”
“Maybe she doesn’t remember it.”
“Colin, give it up. I don’t care how shitfaced Amy might have been last night, she’ll remember kissing you. For fuck’s sake, I’m sure she’s been fantasizing about kissing you since she was a little girl.”
I flap my lips together. “Fine. I’ll go talk to her.”
“Good. I’ll get that Tylenol for you, while you call Amy and tell her you need to talk to her.”
I reach for my phone. “Roger.”
“Rabbit.”
As Violet walks away, I swipe into my texts, figuring I’ll text Amy first and confirm she’s awake before calling. But when I swipe into my prior text chain with Amy, I see two unanswered messages from her that stop my heart.
Oh my God.
I remember now!
I saw both these texts last night, right after her second one landed on my screen!
In a flurry of memories, I remember myself grabbing the bottle of tequila I’d been chugging and sprinting out of this suite like my pants were on fire, headed straight to Amy’s room. Or so I thought. When I got to my destination, some old lady, not Amy, answered the door and started yelling at me for waking her up. And that’s when I bolted away with my tail between my legs, not bothering to grab the tequila bottle I’d dropped in the hallway in my shock.
But that’s the last thing I remember.
The next thing I knew, I was waking up on this couch.
Holy shit. Was I so shitfaced last night I couldn’t read Amy’s room number correctly? Did I get off the elevator on the wrong floor? I don’t know what happened to keep me from successfully reaching Amy’s room last night. All I know is, whatever it was, it was divine intervention. I can’t imagine how guilty I’d be feeling right now if I’d woken up in Amy’s bed, after drunkenly fucking her all night long.