Eight - Free Ride

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Eight - Free Ride

Violet Mae POV

Where am I? Is my first thought when I wake up in the morning. I didn't recognize the walls around me or the sheets on the bed I was in. That's when I remember the events from last night and that I'm in Shawn's house.

That's when everything from last night comes flooding back and I feel sick to my stomach, not to mention the slight hangover I'm currently sporting.

I rush to the bathroom and empty my guts in the toilet, causing Shawn to come rushing in to make sure I'm okay.

"Hey, you good?" He asks as soon as I'm done throwing up before he wraps his arms around me and pulls me off the ground.

I push his arms off me and step back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Yeah, I'm good. Just...don't feel well."

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine. I need to get around and head home."

"You sure? You can stay for breakfast. No need to rush off." If I wasn't mistaking, he sounded somewhat disappointed about me leaving.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I really need to get home."

"Alright...I'll drive you home once you're dressed."

"Thanks."

***

We had a three day weekend, so school started that Tuesday. That means I didn't see Shawn since Saturday morning.

I haven't answered any of his texts either.

I actually haven't really talked to anyone since that night. It was all still fresh on my mind. If Shawn hadn't of been there...I don't want to think about it.

I'm scared. To be honest. Really scared.

Like, to the point I didn't want to go to school and debated faking being ill just to get out of it. But I never got sick, or at least, never sick enough that I had to stay home from school. It was never more than something you'd describe as a head cold.

So I knew that this would never work. That least on my parents. And besides that, Bethany faked sick so many times to get out of tests for more time to study that they knew all the signs.

I'd just have to suck it up and get my butt to school.

And my plan was to walk. Not have anyone take me. That's what I was going to do.

Until I heard Mom yell, "Violet, Shawn's here!"

I internally groan and begin to panic. Why is he here?

Just the thought of having to face him had me sweating. I pull on my jacket and head downstairs, my shoes in hand and backpack over my shoulder.

"Shawn? What are you doing here?" I ask when I finally stand beside Mom in the living room.

"I came to talk. And hopefully give you a lift to school," he replies, not looking away from me.

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