CHAPTER SEVEN
ᴀɴɢʀʏ ᴅʀɪᴠɪɴɢ

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The radio crinkled and stuttered in Violet's workroom, sounding like muffled rain. It was most likely overplayed, run down from hours spent flicking between the few stations that were reachable on the outskirts of Forks. Eight hours, Violet had spent in the garage, waiting for the eldest Cullen to arrive to collect her car.  It sat neatly by the front, hidden behind an old shutter, lit only by a yellow light, swarmed with bugs amongst the pitch black of night.

The dark had never scared her- not when many late nights as such had been spent in the garage, the wide doors open deep into the gloom of the edging forest. But this was a darkness she was not supposed to see. This darkness, as she stared into it from where she leaned against the hood of her jeep, annoyed her endlessly.

She didn't know what made her wait up so long. There was pride hiding behind her feelings, and it was undeniable. As much as Rosalie Hale had loathed the idea of leaving her car to be fixed at one of the only two garages in Forks, she had done it, entrusting the beautiful thing in her care. Violet had spent hours on it, much to her father's delight. This shrug-off from the girl felt like being denied a well-deserved promotion of being stood up for a date.

Violet pushed herself from the jeep as the radio stuttered for the sixth time in the past minute. Her hands wrapped around the rusted metal and she lifted it, knocking the base against the wall, setting it down again when the song began to play again. Seconds later, it switched off altogether. Violet let out a groan and marched herself to the front doors, readying to close the garage.

The lights took a few seconds to flicker off as she slid the metal shutters closed over the front door, letting the crinkly racket fill the vacant night air. She fumbled for the torch in her pocket and pulled the small thing out. The yellowish light burst from the end, finding the space in front of her, revealing a pearly-white face.

Violet let out a screech as the torch dropped from her hands. She caught it, directing it forward again, only to find Rosalie Hale standing where the ghostly creature had been, her face set into a mild look of annoyance.

"Where did you come from?" Violet exclaimed as she realised she'd heard not a single footstep from the girl. Rosalie didn't answer but only looked at her expectantly. "Why were you late?"

"I didn't trust myself to drive while angry," Rosalie said, crossing her arms.

For a moment, Violet watched her as her pale face morphed into an expression of indifference, an improvment from that of the previous look. Annoyance still warmed her body, flushing her cheeks and making the back of her neck damp. Civility was supposed to be the clever thing to work from, and Violet was intelligent, too smart for her own good. But her pettiness wanted to refuse the pleasant answers. Not a word of apology had left Rosalie's lips, after all. But Rosalie Hale was a difficult person to ignore.

"I've seen the results from normal driving I couldn't imagine angry driving."

To Violet's surprise, Rosalie laughed. It was a gentle sort of sound, drifting through the air lightly like the tune of an old song. It was strange and foreign coming from her deep, red lips; stranger still to Violet's ears.

"No that was me angry driving too," she said, eyes darkening as a smirk played at her lips.

Violet wrapped her hands around the edge of the unlocked shutters and pulled them backwards, letting Rosalie grip her own hands below as the old metal snagged on a rusted nail. Rosalie tugged once, sliding the shutters cleanly across the rails. Clearing her throat, Violet shuffled around her and opened the door.

Rosalie followed her in, striding past her to the centre of the room, eyes scanning the worktop benches, lastly falling on the piles of paint-splashed sheets that enshrouded the obvious figure of a vehicle. Violet's own eyes followed her, legs moving toward the gritty box that stood before her father's open office, hands moving blindly to find the keys.

"What's got you so worked up?" Violet finally said, not expecting her to answer.

"Family drama. The usual."

"The usual doesn't normally end in a smashed car," she said, Her eyes widened when she realised what she'd said. "I probably shouldn't joke like that."

"No, it's fine actually. My brother Emmett likes to think and joke like that."

"And you don't?"

Rosalie shook her head. "Not really, no," she said. Her hands eventually found the edges of the sheets that hid the car. "What's this?"

"An old Jeep that I've been working on," Violet said, smiling instinctively.

The sheets were pulled back and dumped in the corner of the room.

"Doesn't look too bad."

"What does that mean?"

The blonde girl shrugged, arms folded across her chest. "Not how I would have done it but it works."

"First you make me too late for a ride home and then you insult my Jeep. What's next?" Violet said as she sent her a glare, half-joking and half-serious.

Rosalie's eyes lifted to look at her. She felt naked under her stare. "I didn't think you'd still be here."

"What, were you just going to break in?" When Rosalie didn't answer, she asked another question. She gestured to the Jeep. "Well, what would you do differently?"

Her arm's folded as she considered the vehicle. "I'd finish it with green."

"That it?"

For a moment, Violet contemplated the idea. The current paint was already close to rusting thanks to the cheapness of the tin she'd bought, and the colour itself was dull and boring. If there was anyone to trust when it came to style, it was Rosalie Hale.

"I didn't say it was that bad to begin with," she said. Violet shook her head as Rosalie lifted herself from where she leaned against a bench. "What's that noise?"

Violet glanced momentarily to the front of the workshop, suddenly recognising the crinkle of music. "The radio. I think I've finally broken it."

She'd just barely finished her sentence when Rosalie began to walk from the room, arms still firmly folded. It was only as she reached the slightly opening of the metal shutters, that she turned to glance back over her shoulder, not moving an inch of the rest of her body. Her eyebrows rose, taunting, Violet would have said.

"I can give you a lift home."

Violet went to laugh as if it was a joke. "I don't think I want to step foot in a car with you, given your record."

"Fine. Stay here in the dark," Rosalie said, a familiar scowl forming on her features. "I'll be leaving in a minute if you change your mind."

Violet watched her leave. It was only as she heard the rumble of an engine that she realised Rosalie must have managed to swipe her keys from where they'd been waiting on the bench. Her feet were pulling her forwards before she could contemplate doing anything other. The lights flickered off, buzzing lightly as a last sudden surge of energy before the garage was cast in darkness, and Violet went to lock up again for the second time that night.

Rosalie's hands clutched the steering wheel of her BMW. She'd missed the feeling of the grooves in the leather, the outlines that were moulded to her fingers. The girl had only spent a week fixing up her car, and Rosalie was surprised to find that it looked as good as new. She was yet to drive it, of course, but the thrum of the engine was comfortingly low, like a hum of an old, favoured song.

She didn't know what'd come over her as she asked if she'd needed a ride. Whatever it was, she didn't like it. The car would smell like her- Violet, the human- for days. The scent had been strong enough trapped within the thin, metal walls of the garage. So strong that she thought of the oncoming rain, of its smell that graced the brisk air. No more than ten minutes until the clouds would pour, was her estimate. Anything to distract herself from the blood.

A string of curses left her lips as she heard Violet's footsteps leaving the garage, the sound of the shutters quickly following. Her thoughts were so loud that her brother could probably hear them from the other end of Forks. What was she doing? This was something Edward would do: enticing a human, divulging in their fleeting interactions. She'd condemned him for his actions, so why was she following his lead?

Violet hurried toward the car, a school bag slung over her shoulder, her feet somehow skirting around the unevenness as if she knew the land like the back of her hand. When she opened the door and sat in the passenger seat, she sighed, leaning back against the cushioning as if she'd been wanting to do it since she'd first laid eyes on the car. She sent one nervous smile Rosalie's way, and then Rose's foot was flooring the accelerator, letting the car race down the dark, desolate road.

She hadn't noticed the missing radio then, Rosalie thought. It was tucked behind her seat. Another thing Edward might've done, but not her. So why was she doing it? Momentarily, her eyes closed, letting her senses take over the direction of her hands. What was she thinking? Rosalie opened her eyes before the human could notice.

"Can family really make you angry enough to crash a car?" Violet asked, the question surprising them both.

Rosalie turned to glance at her. She sat with her back against the door, seatbelt stretching across her front, cutting against her neck and dipping between her breasts. Rosalie looked away sharply, eyes narrowing on the thinning roads. The slouchy tote bag was huddled against her lap, books overspilling from the very top. From between her lips, hot breath warmed the hair into a mist.

"Mine can," Rosalie said, voice lower than she wanted it to be. She could feel eyes turn to her.

"Want to talk about it?" Violet said, but when she gained no answer, she shook her head. "It's fine, you don't have to." She paused to let out a sigh. "I used to get angry at my dad a lot. Then I realised how little time I have left at home before I leave. It put quite a lot of things into perspective."

"Leaving?" Rosalie interjected.

"For college."

"Oh, right."

Something about this year had made the following year seem far off. She had no idea what would come after graduation. There would be something, no matter how meagre. The only problem with small towns like Forks was that people talked. Maybe she would take a gap year, travel a bit. University was always an option as it had been in the past. Another degree wouldn't hurt. But nothing like that seemed to excite her anymore.

She should have asked, should have inquired as to where she would be going when the school year finished, but Rosalie didn't. She remained quiet, her hands glued to the steering wheel as Violet swallowed, the sound loud to her ears.

"Do you have any plans for after graduation?" Violet finally asked- the question had been building for the best part of five minutes.

Rosalie shook her head abruptly.

"You always seemed like the type to go to college," Violet said.

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "You can certainly afford it. You're definitely clever enough for it. Business studies or something."

Rosalie shook her head as a dismissal. "What about you then?"

"Engineering, probably. I'm not really good at anything else."

Rosalie doubted it. They shared most of their classes.

"Where am I going?"

Violet shuffled to sit straight as if she was just remembering that she was taking her home.

"Follow this road until you get to the centre," she said.

Rosalie did as she said and for the rest of the ride, they remained quiet as Violet pointed her in different directions, speeding through back roads until they arrived at a secluded, old farmhouse. It was pretty but outdated and two cars were parked messily along the grass that snaked around the property.

Violet glanced from the window as the car pulled up in front of her house. She paused, looked back with a small smile and then hopped from the door, pulling her heavy bag down behind her.

"Well, thanks," she said. "Enjoy the car."

She shut the door behind her and before she could step away, Rosalie pulled the car into reverse, spun the wheel and shot down the road.

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