The Mustang rested in the lonely corner of the parking lot like some flaming emblem of sexual tension. Violet could feel her stomach twisting with nerves as they made their way from the bright lights along the endges of the shabby motel lot, each step bringing her closer to something that, somehow, she still questioned if she was ready for. Aside from the past few days she had spent secretly fraternizing with her step-brother, the young girl had never felt much desire to experience any of it. Sure, she had hopped a few bases-all the way to third, in fact-but it had all been for reasons other than the conventional ones. She had not loved any of those boys, hadn't felt that tightening in her gut that her friends had described to her so many times. No, rather her sexuality had been entirely defined by lonely rebellion, a route of escape from her unraveling homelife and hopeless addiction. Performing made people stay around just that much longer, made her seem older and more experienced. It was a way of getting what she wanted, exacting benefits from a physical act which, for the most part, she had no investment in.
This was entirely different. As Tate opened the back door of the sleek sports car, Violet contemplated how he made her heart thump out an unsteady rhythm in her chest, how she wanted to feel his bae skin against her, slipping and sliding over one another with ease. She thought of how the idea of it almost made her want to cry, but not in a sorrowful way. It was the intense emotion of it all, the idea that she could offer herself to another person simply because she wanted to, because it felt good and not because she was searching for some sort of compensation. Her night with Tate had not been built on manipulation tactic and, as she realized this, Violet found that for the first time in her life she was truly scared that something wonderful might happen to her. What if she had feelings for him? Real feelings that she couldn't deny? What if she liked what they were about to do and wanted to do it over and over again until the day she died? What then?
Soon, she found herself locked tightly inside the vehicle, the windows cracked slightly and a breeze tickling the bare skin of her neck. Her head was swimming and she was thankful for the buzz. "Are you okay?" Tate asked for what she thought must be the thousandth time. He seemed so concerned, so considerate of her feelings, yet she refused to believe that he could feel the same way that she did. The urge she felt to have him was overpowering, bowling her over with such extreme force that it took her breath away. To her, he would be the first and she could only hope that she wouldn't break down and fall for him like some silly teenaged tragedy because, at the end of the day, she was probably just another screw.
"I'm fine." she added stiffly, her back ramrod straight in a very uncharacteristic way. She could feel the resentment and apprehension growing inside her.
Tate knew that the mood had changed. The girl beside him was starting to behave like a caged animal and he knew that he had a very small window in which he would be able to seal the deal. He felt guilty, dirty, all of a sudden for putting so much pressure on her but he couldn't let up. He wanted her so badly. "Drink?" he questioned, pulling a bottle of Jack Daniels from underneath the rear passenger seats and offering her the bottle. Unscrewing the lid, she took a long swig.
"So that's the plan, huh? Your MO? Get them drunk and leave them to sober up in the back of your classic ride? How ironic. It's not bad but a little overdone, Stalker, not gonna lie. I almost expected more from you...but not really." That was the moment that Tate realized that Violet was not a very happy drunk. Not at all. In fact, she was a raging head case and it made her all the more attractive. "I have to give you points for style, though. You put a nice twist on it this time, maybe enough to even make me memorable. Deflowering your long lost sister in the back lot of a seedy motel certainly does have a certain...je ne sais qoui. You just might go down in the history books as a grade A, prime choice creeper and to think I get to be a part of it." Violet knew she was pushing it but her anxiety was getting the best of her. It was the closeness, the impending happenings of that night, the alcohol making her blood sing with irrational adrenalin. She felt like an out of control junkie, strung out and unable to stop the cycle of violence. She inflicted her own pain on others through words and she couldn't help that vulnerability-such as that which she felt right then-only made it worse. "I bet Ben has taught you a thing or two...must have been real nice getting to buddy up to him for the past however many years so you could score. I guess those are the perks of being the son of a dirty son of a bitch."
She could hear herself laughing even though she knew that her joke was not funny. The evening had gone from sexually charged to fueled by fear and hot-headed fury in thrity seconds flat. She could hear Tate breathing heavily beside her, practically feel the way his muscles clenched and relaxed as he tried to regain control of his temper. Had she done this on purpose? Had she subcosciously chosen to get him all worked up just for the thrill of seeing him angry? Violet knew that it was possible and Tate did too. Since he had known her, he's noticed the way she would push him, the way she liked to test the limits of their exchanges. But he wouldn't be so easily phased.
"Ben hasn't taught me shit, Vi. Trust me, I don't need tips from Ben."
Tate watched knowingly as Violet shifted in her seat, throwing back another gulp of whiskey before replacing the cap and turning to meet him gaze. She had changed again, her emotions rising and falling like the cars of a roller coaster, and she grinned at him slyly, raising an eyebrow. "Is that so?" she whispered, leaning into him and placing a hand on his chest. Tate nodded mutely, having lost all ability to speak. She was right there, so close to his lips that he felt his lungs constricting uncomfortably in his abdomen. She was like nothing he had ever experienced before, making him quiver with anticipation as though this were his very first time and, in some ways, it was because what neither of them knew was that it would indeed be the first time that either of them ever made love.
He had heard her imply it several times but Tate was still unsure if she was really a virgin or not. She was so wild, so untamed, and it seemed hard to believe that no one had ever touched her the way that he was about to touch her. Nevertheless, he moved forward with his actions, pulling her close to him and placing his lips firmly against hers, moving his tongue over the entrance over her mouth and skillfully finding his way inside. She moaned slightly at the contact and the noise only encourage him.
Before long, the two found themselves throwing off pieces of each others clothing, tugging and tearing things away from their bodies as though their lives depended on it until both sat completely naked before the other, every crevace and curve of their bodies fully presented. Violet breathed in heavily, knowing that she had reached the point of no return and, though the air seemed to spiral around her in a tipsy haze, she knew exactly what she was doing. She had decided in the spur of that moment, as Tate's rough hands made contact with her bare, heated flesh for the first time, that she would lose herself to the moment. She would not worry or think or ponder what it meant but simply feel as she had a knack for doing, surrendering her safety to the wild abandon of her rash adolesence. After all, what else did she have to live for but this? This frenzied rush of the unknown, the unplanned and the unsecure.
"Are you ready, Vi?" he breathed against her, letting his nose slide along the edge of her jaw as he laid her across the seat, positioning himself between her youthfully scrawny legs.
She considered that for only a moment, knowing that what she thought didn't matter anymore. She was lost in a haze of hormonal lust and she wouldn't say no. With a nod, she felt his weight fully on top of her and in just one moment she knew what she had made a horrible mistake.
She cried one single tear at the inevitable feelings which rose in her long hardened heart all because of this boy: the uncontrollable Tate Langdon-Harmon.