NOVEL NEXT Chapter 71 - Friendsgiving Part 3
"I'm his girlfriend, Emma," she said, extending her hand to Violet. "You must be Violet; I've heard so much about you. Love the top, it looks so cute on you. And you gotta tell me your workout plan, I can't seem to build any muscle no matter what I do."
Violet short-circuits; the bombshell dropped on her, causing her to freeze momentarily. She powers through the shock and shakes Emma's hand. What is going through your head right now, Violet? She's lucky one of her powers is a Mentalist type. I don't know if she would have recovered so quickly otherwise. Her body is betraying her; the twitch in her eye, the distant look, and the polite but forced smile tell me how badly she's taking all of this.
Emma, my dear, you are crueler than even I thought you'd be. I believed that there were only two possible ways for this to go. Either Emma would pick a fight and take jabs at Violet, or she'd just leave her be. I never considered a third option, certainly not to kill her with kindness. I can see the viability and merit of this method; if she paints herself as the friendly one, she can make Violet seem like the crazy, mean bitch. All she's done is create the sword; if Violet impales herself on it, it'll be her own fault. Her scheme is laudable.
"H-hi, Emma. Sorry, you said you've heard so much about me?" Violet asked, still struggling with the situation.
"Yeah! Eryk gushes about you," she said, pausing unnecessarily. "All of you: Dappur, Aubrey, Sydney, and Raf. He's lucky to have such great friends."
I didn't think that Violet would be so easily overwhelmed. She really has had a sheltered life. Even Maria wasn't flustered this easily. Virtue could handle Emma without any issues in a straight-up confrontation, but Violet is no match for her when it comes to these types of fights. You can't laser blast this problem away. How will you handle it? Don't fall apart too easily. You have to at least try and put up a fight, or Emma will get bored and do something less subtle to cause chaos.
"Uhhh. Thanks, I guess. I mean, thank you. How'd you guys meet?" Violet asked her.
"It is such a funny story, but it's a long one, and I gotta get going. Ahh, I'm so excited for the party later. See ya, babe," Emma said to me, waving at the still shaken Violet. "Again, love the outfit. So cute, so fierce."
Emma gets back in her car, reverses out of the spot, and drives away. Violet's gone from surprised to speechless. The first battle has finished, and the battle is decidedly in Emma's favor. How will Violet respond? She isn't the type to roll over and die, but such a crushing defeat might just shatter her confidence. Her lying about the nature of our shopping trip proves that she doesn't respond well to rejection. I shouldn't be surprised. Virtue almost killed Isaiah and beat six Neuvohumans by herself, and she still couldn't forget the man in the black mask. What I thought was confidence and self-assuredness was merely a fragile shield of pride protecting her ego.
"We should really get this stuff inside and refrigerated," I said loudly, breaking her from my girlfriend's spell.
"Huh? Oh yeah," she murmured.
She finally moves, and I follow after her into the elevator. She's running on autopilot, a hurricane of emotions raging inside her mind. Violet doesn't speak, and I'm grateful for the ride up to her family's place being quiet. The mirrored wall reflects her defeated face and the unfocused look in her eyes. It's like she's a zombie, not entirely there and just moving on instinct.
We step off the elevator into a room with a curved cathedral ceiling with a set of lights that are somehow mimicking sunlight. The marble tiles comprising the floor are massive six-by-six squares. There are beautiful arrangements of foliage and flowers spread out to give the room a wild yet natural atmosphere. In the very center is a three-tiered fountain with statues of cherubs, birds, and butterflies interspersed all over it. All of this contributed to making the brain forget its inside for just a moment. I wouldn't be surprised to learn they pump in scents through the vents to further the illusion. And at the very end of the room are two gorgeous doors made of African Black Walnut wood with swirls of gold inlaid all over it. The contrast of the dark colored wood and the brilliance of the gold makes each of them better. Rorschach would lose her mind seeing that. She'd probably try to get every door in the SSB made the same way. The doors swing open as we approach them, inviting us in. Thankfully, the kitchen is within sight, so I'm spared from trying to extract information from the poster child for shell shock accompanying me. The insides of this compound make the foyer look penniless by comparison. The construction of this place must have cost hundreds of millions.
I walk into the room and smile; the kitchen is large enough for twenty chefs to cook in without bumping into each other. They have four full suites of Míele appliances, the matte black finish standing out from the usual stainless steel that most have. This is so cool. I can't believe I get to cook here. Zombie Violet joins me as I start putting things away in the first fridge I see. To my surprise, there is a good amount of cooking staples already inside: butter, milk, eggs, etc. She's not being actively helpful, so I just take the bags from her and put them away as well. The kitchen is perfect, and I can't help but become giddy with excitement at the area I get to cook in. And as if on cue, my good mood is interrupted by annoying interpersonal relationship drama.
"Why?" Violet asked.
"Why what?" I responded, feigning ignorance.
"Why her? Why not me?" She asked, voice breaking slightly. Oh, we're starting with the big questions first. "What does she have that I don't?"
Oof. She's taking this worse than I thought she would. The question is whether I should plunge my own dagger into her or let Emma finish bleeding her out. I mull over my options for a moment before I decide. I'll let her have her fun. I turn around to face her; this conversation deserves my attention.
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"What are you talking about, Violet?" I asked, baiting her into putting it all out there.
"You said you weren't ready for a relationship. That you just got out of a two-year committed relationship. You said those exact words. I remember them because of how crushed I felt when you said them. How stupid I felt for misreading things," she said, tears beginning to form.
Yikes. Emma's stupid prank is already causing more ripples than I thought. This ain't how I thought she'd react. I expected catty competitiveness, not this sniveling mess.
"I wasn't ready, but things have changed. I have changed. Emma's different. I didn't set out looking for anything; we just kinda hit it off randomly. It just sort of happened," I said.
"Why couldn't we have hit it off? Why don't you like me?"
"I do like you, just not the same way you like me," I said gently.
"But why? Am I not good enough for you?" She asked, tears fully streaming down her face.
I'm going to have to comfort her if I want to be able to use this kitchen. What an annoyance. Her meltdown is raining on my parade.
"It has nothing to do with that stuff. It's not about being good or bad; she gets me in a way that no one else ever has," I answered.
"That could be me, if you let me. What does she have that I don't? Am I not attractive enough? You don't think I'm pretty?" Violet asked, sobbing.
Visions of Maria doing this exact same insecure whining overlap with Violet. Having to constantly reassure a partner is exhausting; it turns a relationship into a job. Never again. I will never date someone whose emotional and mental foundation is made of sand. The idea that this crying woman in front of me is powerful enough that the ancient Greeks would have worshipped her as a demigod is shameful. God, this is pathetic. We've known each other for only a few months, and she's intertwined her sense of self with some idea of me.
What would you think if you knew I was the man in the mask? That the boogieman you're so afraid of is the one you seem to have fallen for so deeply. That the man you so pitifully throw yourself at isn't even real. The Eryk you know isn't even the real Eryk. It would break her, shatter her into pieces, for her civilian and Cape identities to overlap in that way. Could I get her to switch sides? It's a bit too risky with very little reward. It's much better if I just take her powers to make my own version of Virtue—one who is beholden to me without any of the tethers that come from Violet's upbringing.
I wrap my arms around her, holding her as she continues her emotional tantrum. The hug works as a way to calm her down and prevent her from continuing to question me incessantly. This always worked on Maria. She's shaking in my arms, so I start to gently pat her back. I softly whisper that she's okay. All I can do is look at the digital clock display in the kitchen as I watch my precious prep time ticking away. God damn it. No one appreciates how much prep work goes into a meal. By the fifteen-minute mark, I'm starting to contemplate just letting her be sad while I start cooking. But she lets go of me and repeatedly blinks her eyes, wiping her tears away. Sniffling, her face flush from all the crying, she stares at me intensely. Did I say the wrong thing? Have I bungled this?
"You're pretty, Violet. This has nothing to do with that," I said.
"You think I'm pretty?"
"Violet, you're objectively attractive. Anyone with eyes can see that," I said, trying to console her.
Violet grabs my shirt, pulling me against her as she presses her lips into mine. I try to pull away, but she uses her superstrength to hold me in place. Forcing her tongue past my lips and into my mouth like a snake invading a rabbit's burrow. I shove her, but it's like trying to move a brick wall. I shout into her mouth until she releases me. What the fuck was that? Maybe it's my naivete with relationships that's led to this situation. That having only one reference point in Maria has caused me to incorrectly attribute her qualities to other women. Emma is not Maria. Violet is not Maria. These are separate women, and I need more time to properly map out their personalities. I fucked up.
"What the fuck, Violet? I shouted at her.
"You said I was attractive. What's so bad about getting a kiss from a girl you find attractive?" She asked me, licking her lips.
The seduction attempt isn't sexy. I feel like I'm stuck in a cage with a wild animal who could kill me with ease. What the hell is wrong with her?
"I have a girlfriend, and you just kissed me against my will," I said, my voice reverberating through the kitchen.
"You liked it, don't lie," she said playfully. "Oh, I get it. If I did it against your will, then it's not like you cheated on your girlfriend. I'll keep that in mind."
"No. I was comforting you as a friend, and you took advantage of that. Violet, I'm not joking. That was fucked up. Do not do that again. I understand that this is hard for you, but what you just did was disgusting."
Her face falls, realizing I'm not joking. Yeah, I'm done with this friend group after tonight. I don't need the rest of them if I still have Aubrey. She can continue to be my inroad to the Heroes' Union.
"Oh my god, I'm sorry. I misunderstood you completely. Eryk, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me," Violet begged.
Dealing with the fallout of cancelling Friendsgiving is too big a headache. Looking around at the awesome kitchen, and that I get to cook here, brightens my mood a bit. I'll stay and get the food ready, but I'm not planning on staying long after that. There's an odd feeling in my stomach, like a weight is settling in. Don't let her creepy mistake ruin your day.
"I'm going to start cooking. Please give me some space," I said coldly.
"Okay, I'll be upstairs if you need anything," she said hurriedly.
"Mhmm," I mumbled, grabbing the pots and pans I need.
She leaves, and I don't look in her direction. She crossed a line that has never been crossed before. The day that Vivienne humbles her will be one I savor forever. Only then will I reveal who I am to her. But all that can wait. I put my phone down and turn on some relaxing music. It's time to cook.