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He left for his run barely on time. He didn’t feel great about leaving Violet alone there, but he knew his day would be ruined if he didn’t at least attempt to exercise. He could only hope his house was in one piece when he got back.
However, after his run was over, the house was still silent, and Violet was still not making herself known. Charlie frowned. Her silence was worse than her snark.
Charlie slowly went up the stairs, wondering if she was even alive. He peered into the bathroom, but not one thing was out of place. She hadn’t even left a trace of water.
Did she even shower? Was she in his bed still grimy? God, he’d have to get a whole new mattress if she did. He walked to his guest room, gently knocking on the door. It opened at his touch, and he was surprised to find it was never latched.
“Yes?”
Charlie looked up. Violet was in the clothes he gave her last night. Her hair was messy but clean, and her face scrubbed free of any dirt. She was, however, sitting on the floor in front of the bed, which was already made up. Her phone was in front of her, with a video paused of a woman doing what must of been yoga.
“I was … checking on you,” Charlie said.
He expected her to snap at him, to mention how cold the house got at night, or how sparse the furniture was. He could feel his chest tighten, as it always did with someone in his home.
“I was …” Violet picked up her phone and got off the floor. “Never mind. I wasn’t making too much noise, was I?”
Charlie blinked. “What?”
“I was doing yoga, but if you’re here then you must have heard me.”
“I’m here because I didn’t hear you … at all.”
“I was trying not to bother you.”
Charlie only could stare at her. She was being considerate? He thought she was planning his murder.
The kindness was so off - so wild to him that he could only turn and walk away. Violet didn’t follow him, and when he was back downstairs, he tried to get his wits about him.
Violet was being nice. Since when did she do that? Yes, he was letting her stay in his house, but she didn’t owe him anything. She certainly didn’t owe him niceness, not now of all times.
And yet… here she was.
She had looked so odd to him. Charlie had never seen her in anything other than the dorky dresses she wore for school. But this time, she had looked like someone else. Someone who was in his house casually. And no one ever did that.
He had to shake this off. Soon, whatever weird funk Violet was in would pass and she’d be looking for the perfect moment to strike. He had to be ready.
It didn’t matter that she was staying in his house and wearing his clothes. It didn’t.
Charlie made his oatmeal and sat at the table. His mind was a mess of emotion, but he had a long day in front of him. He needed to put her out of his mind and ignore her.
Of course that was when Violet came down the stairs in his clothes. His sweatpants, something old and never worn, looked so good on her that he couldn’t look away. They mostly fit her, but they were rolled at both the waistband and legs. His shirt draped over her and hung off one shoulder, obviously much too large for her.
Violet Moore had always taken up so much of his mind that he forgot she was so much smaller than him.
Suddenly he was back in college, meeting her for the first time. He used to think she was the prettiest woman he had ever seen. She was smart and funny, and there was nothing he could do to get her out of his mind.
“Don’t make fun of me," Violet said, crossing her arms.
And then the spell was broken. Charlie blinked back into the present. Violet was looking at him with narrowed, annoyed eyes. She was his enemy. She hated him.
He needed to remember that.
“No. I wasn’t," Charlie replied. He sounded breathless, even to his own ears. He expected Violet to call him out on it, but instead she looked away.
“Yeah, right," Violet said. “Usually when you stare that’s when insults start flying. But you won’t see much of me. I’m going to the laundromat to clean what few clothes I had in my car.”
“Why are you going to a laundromat?”
