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Violet looks at Jasmine Day from the other side of the room, silently staring at her best friend like she has been for the last few years.
Violet can't help it. She has just gotten used to looking at her best friend as though she is some kind of faraway, unreachable thing.
Which Jasmine is. Which Jasmine has always been. Violet has always reached her hand out to touch Jasmine, to touch the soft of her hair and card her fingers through it, to touch the smooth skin of her arm, her fingers desperately grappling for something stable, steady, to hold on to, but Jasmine would always be ever just so out of reach.
She doesn't even slip from between Violet's fingers like sand. Violet has never been able to even so much as come that close to Jasmine.
But now it's Jasmine's birthday, and she's just finished dancing with her other guests, and now she's standing by the refreshments table, and Violet has her chance. If Violet just comes up to Jasmine in the middle of the room and takes her away to a pocket of quiet amongst all the noise and chaos and opens her mouth to speak, then maybe Jasmine wouldn't have to feel so beyond her reach, so unattainable.
If only Violet could come closer to Jasmine. Maybe then Violet wouldn't feel so shut out, and maybe she wouldn't feel so far away.
But it's Jasmine, perfect Jasmine, self-possessed and beautiful, and Violet can only stand there with her mouth hanging softly open like she had seen an angel as she is swept away by some other person.
Violet can't help it. She just stares as Will, her own brother, sweeps Jasmine away into a corner of the room to dance with her in private.
Violet doesn't feel robbed, chained to the floor. She hadn't gotten anything stolen from her. Just a chance, a pipe dream she let go to waste because all her life she had just gotten used to looking at her best friend as though she's some fairy sent to grant her wishes, a sorceress come down from above to enchant her with a siren's song.
Violet watches, hot tears spilling from her eyes, as she watches Will slip his fingers into Jasmine's hair instead of around her waist where they should be, touching what Violet has always dreamed to brush, even just brush with the tips of her fingers. She watches as his long, grabby boy-fingers tangle through Jasmine's full three feet of silken hair, his eyes heavy on her face, looking at her like she's Rapunzel.
And it's not just that. Will isn't just the one looking at Jasmine like she's some kind of fairy princess. Jasmine is looking up at Will like he's some sickening kind of prince, like a knight in shining armor.
If only Violet had a bad thing to say about either of them. If only she had a bad thing to say about her brother, but she loved Will almost just as much as she loved Jasmine. If only she had a bad thing to say about her best friend, but she loved Jasmine almost as much as she loved her brother. Violet is swept again by her eternal dilemma.
Violet is swept away again by her endless dilemma just as Jasmine wraps her arms around Will's neck, her fingers climbing up his nape and running through his dark hair, smiles across their lips, their mouths ghosting over each other but never touching, not yet, not yet.
Violet drops her cup. She retreats back into her sad fantasy world and finds comfort in something she knows will always be out of reach to get over something she knows will always be out of reach only if she doesn't do anything about it. Jasmine is not as unnatainable as Violet thinks, but she's a coward. She has always been a coward around her.
Jasmine, beautiful Jasmine. Violet can only wish to touch her.