The Gender End by Bella Forrest (top young adult novels .txt) 📗

the sparkle in her eyes going introspective. “But don’t give up. There will be a good time. Owen just needs a while to deal with everything.”

“I thought you were mad at him,” I said around another mouthful of tomato, swallowing it and then taking a sip of the apple cider. That was exquisite as well, and I felt my hunger double as I eyed Amber’s plate.

She laughed and pushed it over to me, and Tim and I fell on the food like ravenous wolves, using our fingers to grab vegetables and shove them in our mouths. Nothing was as fresh as the tomatoes, and I couldn’t help but cram them into my mouth with wild abandon while she continued the discussion as though my brother and I weren’t behaving like starved animals.

“Yes, I was mad at him. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t understand.”

“Nobody’s mad at him anymore,” Ms. Dale said softly, reaching over to grab the last tomato off Amber’s plate and popping it in her mouth before I could growl in warning. She gave me a smug smile and half-salute with her mug before leaning back in the chair. “He messed up, made a bad judgment call, but he’s doing everything he can to make up for it. Everyone can see that.”

Morgan cleared her throat and set her own cup down, arching an eyebrow at us. “Everyone might know that or believe that, but when was the last time any of you told Owen that?”

I swallowed my mouthful of canned asparagus, the slight recrimination in her voice causing me to lose all interest in food. “Morgan, I do tell him that. I tell him that all the time.” Morgan stared at me for a moment, and then stood up, brushing crumbs off of her pants.

“You’re different, Violet. And it hurts him more than you think to know you still have faith in him and consider him a friend. Because he doesn’t feel he deserves it, and the more you do it, the more twisted into knots he feels. Not that I’m saying that you shouldn’t tell him that, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he just disappeared after this conflict was done, if only so he could try to sort through what he’s going through emotionally.”

Amber leaned back in her chair, tilting it back on two legs and giving Morgan a shrewd look. “You really do care about him, don’t you?”

Morgan hesitated, and then flushed, one hand running self-consciously over her forearm. “Well, I think we all do, right?”

“Well, yes, but that—”

“Have I ever told you the best way Elena ever ended conversations?” asked Morgan, interrupting Amber. She and I exchanged looks and then turned back to Morgan, waiting expectantly. Morgan opened her mouth, shut it, and then turned and walked away, her head held high and her shoulders squared.

I watched her go, stunned for a moment, and Ms. Dale chuckled. “Well, that certainly is one way to end an uncomfortable conversation,” she said with a grin.

I almost replied, but at that moment a plate was deposited in front of me, and I craned my neck back to see Viggo standing over me, a wry smile on his face. “I see you already finished one serving,” he said dryly. “And found a new man to replace me. Busy party.”

Tim sat up straight and started to move, but Viggo placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as I dug into my plate, scarcely noticing the small conversations going on around me, I was so excited to eat real food.

“Stay there, Tim. I can evict Amber.”

“All right, Croft, I’ll give you my seat. But it’ll cost you.” Amber leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“It’ll cost me?” Viggo asked. “You’re going to deny me the right to sit next to my wife?”

“Well, that’s just supply and demand. Don’t you want to know the price?”

Viggo groaned dramatically, and I could practically feel him rolling his eyes. I shoveled another spoonful of mashed potatoes into my mouth, content to let the butter dissolve on my tongue and watch the show.

“All right, what is it?” my husband asked Amber.

“First, you have to come dance with me.”

“And second?”

“You have to wear these when you do it.” She produced a black eyeglass case and set it on the table, sliding it over. Unable to contain my curiosity, I put my fork down for a second to open it, and saw a pair of empty wire frames sitting inside.

“Viggo?” I asked, looking up, and I saw him fighting back a smile, his cheeks burnishing just slightly.

“Don’t ask,” he growled, snatching up the case and placing the glasses into a pocket in his dress uniform. “And you promised, Amber!”

“Hey, I didn’t say one word, did I?” she exclaimed, her hands going up in the air in surrender. “I just gave you my conditions.”

“Oh my goodness,” Ms. Dale breathed in bemused irritation. “Viggo, give the glasses to Violet and trot Amber out on the dance floor. She really just wants you to dance with her to make Logan jealous. Violet, thank Amber—she just did you a favor.”

I gave my former mentor a bewildered look, but she just smiled, taking another sip of her mug of tea.

“No deal,” Viggo said, clapping his hands together and then pulling my seat out. “My wife gets the first dance. I suffered one of her traditions—now she’ll suffer one of mine.”

I smiled and slipped my hand into his, ignoring the wolf whistle Amber was making behind my back. In truth, my eyes were only for Viggo as he led me to the cleared-out space in the middle of the room that was being used as a dance floor.

As soon as we were in the center, nobody around us, Viggo spun me in a circle under his arm, then pulled me to his chest, one hand firmly on my waist. The confidence with which he pulled off the move, as smooth as if he’d been practicing for weeks, left me a bit breathless,