by A. M. Hudson
“I don’t know, Ar. I’d like to think that’s not the case, but...”
My mouth fell open around his silence. “Don’t do that. Don’t say but and leave me hanging. Either there’s a but or there’s not.”
Mike stayed silent.
“Mike!”
“Okay. I think...I think you are a bit that way, baby.”
I threw a pillow at him. “Mike?”
“I’m sorry.” He laughed, catching the pillow in his lap. “But you are a bit like that. I don’t think it’s the reason you don’t want to get married—to me, but I think you feel insecure about losing things indefinitely. Like it makes you want to hold onto them tighter, no matter what it takes—even if it means loving them...when you don’t really love them.”
“So...I’m afraid of missing people?”
Mike shrugged as he said, “Maybe.”
“Well, isn’t that normal?”
“Yeah, but I guess with you it’s just...” He looked at me for a long moment. “Magnified.”
“Magnified?”
“I dunno, Ar. Maybe it’s ‘cause you lost your mum. I think you...you just don’t like missing things. Anything. People or objects. I think you have a too-deep understanding of goodbye. Like, for me, when I get someone out of my life, I know there’s a chance I’ll always see them again—distant, but still a chance. I don’t think you have that. I think you understand and assume finality in all goodbyes, even when you’re just going to work.” He looked down between his knees and tapped his thumbs together. “I think you hold on to people to make sure they won’t disappear forever.”
“But, then, how do I know if letting go is the right thing—when it feels so wrong?”
Mike smiled sideways at me. “Is this about Eric?”
“What do you know about it?”
His smile became warmer as he looked down at his hands. “Emily told me—about the non-kiss the other night.”
Argh! How rude. “Well, she shouldn’t have.”
“No,” Mike said, “you should have. I’m your best bud, Ara. You can talk to me.”
“About guys I want to sleep with.”
Mike went to speak, but his words seemed to get lodged in his throat. He cleared it. “Sleep with, huh?”
“Mike. I’m allowed to want sex.”
“I know. You just...” He shook his head. My heart broke a little, remembering how badly he wanted to be my first. “You just used to say ‘make love to’.”
“I know. But I’m not a child anymore, Mike.”
He nodded. “Do you like Eric—in that way?”
I nodded.
“Do you...do you love him?”
I shook my head.
“Do you think you’ll ever love him?”
I shrugged.
“Then don’t sleep with him.”
I removed my comforting hand from his. “Well...should I stay friends with him?”
Mike stood up. “Only if you want to hurt him really badly.”
My lips fell apart slightly as I watched him walk away.
The presence of morning entered my room, and weary awareness was suddenly elevated to completely alert when my foot touched something beside me. I threw my covers back and launched to the edge of the bed.
“Amara, kiddo, relax, it’s just me.” Eric grabbed my arm.
“What are you doing in here?” I quickly covered my chest with the sheet.
“I was watching you sleep. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not. Eric, this is crossing the line.” I tried not to yell, but, before coffee, that was hard.
“Well, you don’t return my calls.” He shrugged.
“That’s because I’m trying to get you out of my life.” Or...let you out of my life.
“Ouch.”
“It’s for your own good.”
“What if I like the torment you put me through?”
“Then you’re sadistic, and I don’t want to hang around someone who’s into that kind of thing.”
“Oh, funny first thing in the morning, are we?” He repositioned himself, resting his interlaced fingers on his crossed legs. “You getting up or coming back to bed?”
“Eric. You have to leave.” I rubbed my temple. “Wait, no, you have to go away—and I don’t mean just hide where I can’t see you—I mean go away completely.”
Smugness curled around his smile. “Why, because you want to kiss me?”
A pause allowed me to control my fury. “Only to get past David. Not because I like you.”
“No. You want me; I can see it in your eyes.”
“Eric.” I rubbed my face firmly. “I’m attracted to you because you’re a vampire. It’s human nature—but I’ll never let myself love you. I don’t really even like you.”
“What if it’s not love I’m after?”
I let out two long huffs before clicking my tongue, all the while considering his words. “What exactly are you after?”
He shrugged. “Companionship. Sex.”
“Hm.”
“Come on.” He patted the spot on the bed next to him. “You’ve got time before work. Let me show you how real vampires please a woman.”
For a second my mind pictured it; his body and mine, completely meshed together, the muscles on his arms tightening as he wraps his hands under my legs and pulls them around his hips. His lips in the curve of my shoulder, his... “No.” I stole the sheet completely out from under him to wrap around myself. “I have to get ready for work. And you need to get out of my bed before Mike walks in and sees you.”
“Why can’t he see me in here? I thought you didn’t love him anymore.”
“Grow up, Eric—you know I love him. I just won’t waste his life by marrying him.”
“So what if he sees you with another guy? Shouldn’t he be moving on?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“You’re my friend. Of course it’s my business.”
“No. It’s not. Now get out.”
“No. I’ll stay.” He folded his arms and watched me move across the room, then nodded toward the sheet. “I’ve already seen you in your underwear—you don’t need to hide.”
“When did you see me in my undies?”
“Amara, I’ve been watching you for some time. I’ve seen a lot of things you wouldn’t want me to see.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. “You butt-wipe. I hate you!” I grabbed a pillow off the floor and ditched it at his head; he, of course, caught it and laughed at me.
“Relax. You’re hot. A little skinny for my tastes, but you still look good naked.”
I shook my head, biting my teeth together hard enough that I heard a small crunch, then felt sand against my tongue. “You know, if I ever see David again, I’m telling him all about you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?” I turned around to get my clothes out my dresser drawer, and when I looked at Eric through the reflection of the mirror, saw nothing.
Wait, vampires have reflections.
Confusion littered my face. I glanced over my shoulder at the empty bed. “Eric?”
Gone? Seriously, he’s gone?
I turned back to my mirror with a look of utter pleased astonishment in my smile. Wow, that was easy.
Not that I want him gone—not really. I like him. I just don’t want my virginity to slip into his persistence...and I can’t resist that cheeky mannerism. It’s going to be the end of me, I’m sure. Which will, in the end, drag him down, too.
“Ara?” Mike knocked on my door.
Man. Can’t a girl have some peace to get dressed? “Hang on, Mike.” I wrapped the sheet around my chest and under my arms. “Okay. Come in.”
“I thought I heard voices in here?” He popped his head in the door, scanned my bed with his eyes, then looked back at me.
“Yeah, I was just talking to myself.” I flashed him an innocent smile.
“Mm, of course you were.”
“You know me—crazy
as,” I said, then let out a long hint-laced breath.
“Anyway,” he said, opening my door fully. “I was just wondering if you were working today.”
“Yep, and I’m actually late, so—” can you get out of my room and stop looking at me like I tore your heart out.
“Sorry. I’ll uh—I’m sorry.” He shook his head and backed away.
“Mike, wait.” When he stopped, I almost slapped myself. I wanted to say Wait, I love you, please stop hurting for what I did to you, but only a few quivering G’s came out as I walked over and placed my hand on his arm. “I just—”
“Ara, don’t.” He shook his head and took a step back, holding his hands up. “I can feel that—the energy between us. It’s still just as intense as it was before. I know you love me. I know you want me—so please, just don’t.”
“Mike?” I reached for him, but he gently moved my hand away.
“Just don’t, Ara. Just please stop trying to make everything right again.”
“I just want you to be happy.”
“If you wanted that, you would’ve married me.” His voice broke on the word that meant we would’ve been together forever—human forever. Our gazes held all the pain of truth long enough that he saw my eyes water; he pressed his lips in a tight line and backed away from me—taking my resolve to be alone with him.
As the shudder of cold confusion rose up under me, I slammed my door shut and fell onto the bed.
I needed to be strong. I knew it was in these moments that you learned what it meant to be strong. Mike would get by—I had to hope he’d eventually move on, find the true love I so badly wanted him to find. But each time I watched his heart break for the love I wouldn’t give him, a little piece of me wondered if he was right—if he had already found it.
Compiling all my external strength, I left my heart on the bed, and walked to the shower. Only as the steam fell around me did I find the will to breathe again.
The cool glass under my fingers seemed to bring relief to the sinking energy I felt within my soul all the time. Water, like raindrops, fell from under my palm, and I looked at the tiny scar on my right wrist that David made when he sliced my skin and drank from me. This was my good side, but the other hand—the one down by my side—I couldn’t even look at. Those were the scars of pain, from when Jason cut viciously with his teeth, through my skin, through the vein, and drank from deep inside me.
I studied my hand for a while; smooth, and youthful.
But I wanted it to be aged. I wanted it to be so wrinkled and ready for death that people would shake their heads and ask how I was still breathing.
Life without David is too painful to live with; Mike being here makes it worse, but also, somehow, better. But I want to be old—so that death will be closer. I can’t take the pain much longer.
My mind, as I closed my eyes for a second, imagined David stepping up and placing his hand against the glass—mirroring mine, as he had done, so long ago, in a different time; a time before we ever knew that immortality could tear us apart.
“I don’t expect you to move on with your life anymore, David,” I said to the apparition, “I understand now. We never can move on.”
Drying myself off in front of the mirror, I cringed at the sight of the skeleton peering back at me; the bones in my shoulders stuck out like branches seeking sunlight, and my once pretty white skin had become grainy and bluish, settling around my eyes in a combination of misty greys and purple.
Since the blood transfusions, after being attacked last year, my iron levels had been really low. I felt tired all the time. All I wanted was to go back to bed and sleep it off. But I had to go to work—to that pokey little shop, to teach kids that didn’t want to learn.
I covered my hideous face with my magic concealer and, satisfied with my new bright skin, threw on some clothes that covered my shoulders, and wandered out to the kitchen. “Mike?” I called, looking around, half expecting him to be right outside my door.
All the windows were open, the morning light helping itself to my dark little world, bringing with it a cool, dewy breeze. I stopped near the bench, confused by the cold toast sitting popped up in the toaster, and the two mugs half-filled with milk and coffee, awaiting the hot water. There were signs of life, but no Mike.
He probably went for a run again. That’s what I’d have done after our heated little…moment. Poor guy—he’s lost so much in these last few months. I bet he planned to win me back by coming here.
With no sense being made from wasted toast, I stole it from the toaster, popped it on a plate then grabbed one of the coffee cups.
“Where’s mine?”
The start of a face right behind me made the mug jump from my hands and smash, splattering coffee-stained milk all over the cabinets, my shoes and my pants. “Eric! Don’t do that. You scared me.”
“Sorry, my bad.”
Sighing, I bent down to pick up the glass—stacking the smaller pieces inside the biggest one. “I wish it really was true about vampires and thresholds.”
“Now what fun would that be?” Eric grinned, squatting down to help me.
“Fun wasn’t what I had in mind.”
We stood up, and he tilted his head, smiling softly. “I’m sorry—about this morning. That was rude of me.”
“Yes, it was. And invasive and creepy and—”
“I know.” He traced a circle on the floor with the tip of his toe, then, when he looked up, sincerity flooded his face. “I am really sorry.”
With a huff, I dropped the broken glass into the sink. “Okay. Fine. Apology accepted.”
“Here, let me take that.” Eric reached toward the puzzle of shards, then drew his hand back with a jerk. “Ouch!”
“What happened?” I leaned around his arm, gasping when I saw blood. “You cut yourself?”
He held his thumb up and watched the red liquid pool around the tip. “Just a little.”
“Wait, vampires don’t get cut by glass,” I said with wide eyes, taking a step back. “You did that deliberately.”
“Perhaps.” He grinned, squeezing the base of his finger. “You’ve tasted vampire blood before. It’s addictive, isn’t it?”
My breath shuddered, cold heat rising up to my cheeks. “David never warned me about that.”
“Well, he didn’t need to. He wasn’t counting on you making friends with a vampire.”
“Eric don’t. It was intimate with David—it took me a long time to stop craving his blood.”
“But I’m here now—you can have it whenever you want.”
“No. I don’t want it.”
“It’ll make you feel good.”
“I know, that’s why I don’t want it.”
When Eric stepped toward me and grabbed my face, my heart stopped in my chest. I wanted it so badly—wanted it for different reasons to what I wanted David’s. It was the lure of the warmth, the energy, the life force that flowed through me like a drink of ecstasy. But if I drank Eric’s blood and became compelled by the lust to make love to him, he’d do it. He wouldn’t stop out of respect for me, like David did. “Eric, I’m not doing this with you,” I said with zero resolve.
He licked his lips; the pupils of his eyes spread out over the whites, like black ink. “Just a little.”
“N—” I tried to turn my head as he jammed his thumb against my lips, forcing them apart. I scratched his arms, digging into his skin like a cat trying to remove a collar.
Get off—let me g…
But a rush of warmth eradicated the fight in me, giving rise to a thirst, an involuntary desperation for blood—his blood.
With each breath I drew, tension cuddled my chest, making my lungs expand the way they did only when I was running—pumped full of adrenaline. The sensation of calm saturated me at last and the splendour of his taste came into focus as my heart and soul suffered the elation of his life force, fighting only for the will to drink—to make this moment last forever.
I gripped his hand with mine,
drawing at his flesh—swallowing his blood in the small gulps the tiny cut would allow. And I didn’t care that it was blood, that it was considered gross by human definition. I didn’t care that, as he moved his foot between my legs, I parted them, completely submitting to my humanistic desires. He was like my favourite meal, the one you have after being on a camp for four days eating nuggets and badly cooked eggs.
He slid his finger further into my mouth, and I bit the base of it with my teeth, pushing the blood out—moving it around with my tongue. He tasted so different to David—almost sweeter.
His mouth came up alongside mine, and I felt his cool breath on my upper lip, turning my head to invite him—to show him I wanted his touch. He slipped his other foot between my legs and I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Amara?” his whisper was hesitant.
“Mm?”
“That’s enough.” His grip released and his thumb came away, leaving me cold where my lips searched the air for absent flesh.
“But I wasn’t ready,” I said.
“I know.”
When my eyes opened to his smiling face, instant regret flooded my sinking heart, like gravity dropping inside me. “Oh my God! What’ve I done?”
Eric lifted my face with his fingertips. “You liked that—don’t be ashamed.”
“Why? Why did you do that to me?” My eyes glassed.
“Your cheeks are all flushed. Don’t you feel good now?”
“I do, but I feel like I just—”
“Ara!”
Eric drew back; I jumped ten mile into the air, turning around, my breath stopping somewhere under the rise of my shoulders. “Mike!” How long was he standing there?
Eric walked confidently over to Mike and extended his hand. “Hey, I’m Eric.”
With his shirt soaked in a triangle of sweat from his run, Mike stood stiff, obviously holding his breath, his tight-lipped glare presenting all the facts I needed to know. “Nice to meet yo—” his voice trailed off to a grunt as he pulled Eric close with a jerk, flipped his arm over and looked at his wrist—then at me.
“Mike?” I pleaded, watching as the pink in his face became bright red and his shoulder rolled back, taking his elbow with it.
I had no time for any reaction other than to cover my face as he drove his fist forward, ploughing Eric, by the face, into the kitchen bench; crumbling the dent Eric’s body left when he struck again—missing the vampire.