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"Violet?"

"Huh, what?"

The sound of her name jerked Violet back to reality, and she realized, to her horror, that Griffin had been talking this whole time while her mind had been a thousand miles away.

"You okay?" His voice was casual, but there was a thread of genuine concern underneath it. "You were completely out of it."

Violet straightened immediately, forcing herself to focus. "Oh! Yeah. I’m good. Perfect. You were saying?"

Griffin didn’t look entirely convinced, but he let it slide.

He continued. "I was saying... thank you. For what you did out there on the field today. If it weren’t for your ..." He paused, as if searching for the right word, then smirked. "...motivation, we would’ve lost to Asher’s team."

Violet let out a short laugh, waving it off. "Oh, that? It was nothing."

"It wasn’t nothing." His voice was firm, holding an intensity that made her pulse zigzag.

Damn.

Then, in a lighter tone, Griffin added, "Although, I don’t think I’ll be getting that dance out of my head anytime soon." A low, rumbling chuckle followed his words, deep and unapologetically masculine.

And just like that, a hot pulse of heat shot through Violet, settling in places it had no business settling in.

Oh no.

This was bad. She was lusting after Griffin. She was mentally cheating on Alaric with his best friend.

To make matters so much worse, Griffin ran a hand through his hair, the motion so lazy—so careless yet undeniably sensual—that Violet found herself staring, her throat suddenly dry.

Since when was a man’s hair seductive?

Violet had never cared much for men with long hair, but Griffin wore his like a goddamn warrior prince.

God.

What the hell was happening to her?

This wasn’t her.

This wasn’t who she was, and she needed to get her shit together.

"Nonetheless, thank you" Griffin said, oblivious to the absolute chaos in her head.

Thank the gods she caught his words this time.

Violet forced a small, strained smile. "You’re welcome."

A silence settled between them, not uncomfortable, but heavy. It was as if they both had something to say... but neither could bring themselves to say it.

They could only stare at each other, the rest of the party fading into the background.

Then as if his senses returned, Griffin gestured vaguely behind him. "I think I’ll head back—"

"Your hair!"

The words shot out of Violet’s mouth before she could stop them.

Griffin stopped dead.

She had spoken so abruptly, she might as well have shouted it into a microphone. Hence, a few students actually turned to look.

Griffin blinked. "...What?"

Violet swallowed.

Alright. It was too late to back out now.

"I know this might sound weird—crazy, even—but... can I touch your hair?"

And the result was instant. Violet swore she saw Griffin go red.

He stammered. "Y-you want to... touch my hair?"

Griffin looked at her like she had just asked if she could lick his abs.

Perhaps, seeing his stunned expression, Violet realized just how ridiculous her request sounded, so she quickly rephrased.

"I mean, braid it. You must need someone to braid your hair. I’m exceptionally good at it. Trust me, I won’t tug too hard."

And that was when Griffin short-circuited.

His mouth fell open and he stood frozen, unmoving. Then, after a long, heavy pause, the first word that escaped his lips was

"...Fuck."

"W-what?"

Violet’s stomach sank. Had she said something wrong? Did she offend him? Did she just... ruin everything?

But Griffin just muttered, "I think I need a drink. A strong one."

And with that, he turned and walked away with his

face still burning.

Violet stared after him, ompletely and utterly lost. She had this unnerving feeling in her guts she just did something wrong.

And that was confirmed when Daisy let out a low whistle. "Damn, Vi. You always go straight for the kill, don’t you?"

"What?" Violet whirled around to face her. "What did I do this time?"

She grinned. "Haven’t you heard of ’The Way of the East’?"

"I bet she hasn’t," Ivy added with a taunting smirk.

Violet narrowed her eyes. "Okay, what am I missing?"

Lila sighed, shaking her head. "Griffin’s not just from the East, Violet. He’s the future Alpha of the East. And they have... traditions."

"Traditions?" The ominous feelings increased. Had she violated his tradition and provoked him.

Daisy looked far too entertained as she said. "Well... for starters, you can’t just go around demanding to braid a man’s hair unless you’re his mate."

Violet froze. Completely.

And, as if taking turns to destroy her, Daisy continued.

"Eastern men don’t cut their hair. Atleast, not until they marry. They grow it out from birth, and their mother braids it for them until they come of age to do it themselves. After that, no one touches it except their mate."

Violet felt her stomach drop. Fuck her life.

And then Lila, the executioner of all hope, delivered the final, killing blow.

"In other words... requesting to braid Griffin’s hair? You might as well have been an animal doing the mating dance to entice a partner."

Violet went rigid, her face drained of color.

And, because Lila was apparently Satan incarnate, she leaned in with a coy smile.

"Really? Griffin too? Is Alaric not enough to scratch your itch?"

At that moment, Violet flatlined such that her roommates actually exchanged glances, wondering if they had finally broken her.

Lila, realizing she may have gone too far, tried to soften the blow.

"It’s not a big deal. Griffin probably knew you didn’t understand the meaning behind it. He won’t take it seriously."

But Violet wasn’t listening. She was too busy spiraling.

How was she supposed to face Griffin now?

What if he told Alaric?

Would Alaric think she was a slut?

A dark thought crept in.

Like mother, like daughter. Maybe... maybe she really was turning out like Nancy. Maybe her nightmare was coming true. In the end, she wasn’t so different from Nancy.

"Violet?"

Her roommates were talking but their voices were muffled, as if underwater.

Someone reached for her and Violet jerked back violently. It was Lila.

"Don’t touch me!" Her snarl was almost feral.

Her roommate’s wide, worried gazes met hers, but Violet didn’t need their concern. If anything, she needed air. She needed to get out. Now.

So before any of them could stop her, Violet turned and fled. Except, in her desperation, she went the wrong way. Instead of escaping, she found herself going deeper into the party.

And for the first time in her entire life, Violet Purple was having a panic attack.