David grabbed me by the coat. “Keep walking, Ara.”
“Hey, Dave? Man, did you miss?” One of the gorillas pointed to the soda spill on David’s jeans.
“Funny. Real funny.” David nodded and took my hand.
“Now I wish you had eaten me in there,” I said.
He laughed as we wandered back to our table. “Don’t worry about it. No one will pass any further comment on it. I’ll personally see to that.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” He squeezed my hand.
“Oh, hey, you’re back.” Emily smiled casually.
“Do I need to ask what you two were up to in there?” Ryan’s brows rose and fell a few times.
“We were just talking,” David said casually, and pushed my chair in for me as I sat down.
“Right, ’cause everyone goes to the make-out room to ‘talk’,” Spencer said.
“As a matter of fact, that’s exactly why we were in there,” David said, then winked at me. “I would never be so inappropriate as to display my affections for the girl I love in a closet space.”
Everyone looked into their laps. Conversation: over.
“So… subject change anyone?” Emily chimed in, motioning around the table. “The memorial concert? The whole reason we’re here?”
“Let’s start the rehearsal then.” I grinned, biting into my nachos, but they tasted boring in comparison to David.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him grin, and while conversations went on around us, David reached into my lap and took my hand, winding his leg under my ankle. And it felt nice—like the way things should be; sitting at lunch with friends, talking about normal things, concealing the burning desire to run away with the guy you love and never let him go.
* * *
Thursday passed with a rhythmic pace: note-passing with David when we were in the same classes—only I didn’t need to pass them to him, since he just read my mind; talking with Emily in History, trying to get kicked into Mr. Adams’ class, and lunch times with my group of friends in the auditorium. When the day ended, I said my goodbyes and wandered across the field toward my dad’s house, stealing the quiet for my own private thoughts—for once.
The sun warmed my upturned face and the wind caressed the crevices around my nose and under my chin. I closed my eyes, entrusting my blind steps to the safety of the widespread field of grass as I bounced along, smiling to myself for no other reason than that I was happy.
“Haven’t you learned not to walk with your eyes closed?”
So much for private thoughts. “Well, I’m happy. If you want me to get across the road safely, you’ll just have to walk me home.” I opened my eyes to look at David. He looked so normal with a schoolbag on his back—just a boy, just as everyone else saw him. His dark side was a secret. No one could ever imagine he was a vampire, and no one would ever know. Except me.
“So, I was thinking?” He glided along at my pace, with his hands behind his back and that cheeky grin slipping into place.
“Mm. I’m listening.”
“I want to buy you a dress for the Masquerade.”
“A dress? Why?”
We stopped for a second, and David took my hands. “This will be your first real ball. I want you to feel like a queen. And”—he turned and started walking again, smiling—“I won’t take no for an answer.”
“But… Vicki?” I ran after him. “She wants to take me shopping.”
“And she can.” He spun around and walked backward. “But when you find the right dress, I want to pay for it.”
“David, I can’t—”
“Ara.” He pressed a finger to my lips, and it might have been insulting if it weren’t so obvious he was being playful. “I’ll have no more of this. Just accept it as a token of my affection for you.”
David was sweet, but he didn’t know the old me—the girl before the accident—because if he did, he would never have offered to spend money on me. And labeling it a ‘token of his affection’ made it really hard to decline. I wasn’t sure how to tell him now that I hated people buying me things, so I didn’t say anything at all.
* * *
Sam’s schoolbooks engulfed the dining table, leaving one space for me to do my homework: the kitchen counter. I wilted over my books, munching an apple, spinning my hips from side-to-side on the swishy stool. I’d deliberately moved my schoolbag off the seat beside me, hoping David would sit there to either help me with my homework or just plain old be close to me, but he went and sat next to my pesky brother instead, and helped him. Except, he wasn’t helping him with his math, he was doing it for him.
“David, will you stay for dinner tonight?” Vicki asked, casually chopping away at vegetables.
David looked up from the page. “That’d be great, Mrs. Thompson. If Ara doesn’t mind.”
A giant invisible question mark formed above my head. Why would I mind, dummy? Unless you plan to eat us for dinner.
He smirked.
“Great,” Vicki beamed, without needing my answer. “It’s nothing special. Although, I am making apple pie for dessert.”
My vampire flashed the most incredibly charming smile and said, “Apple pie just happens to be my favorite.”
“Oh, really?” Vicki’s whole face lit up. “That’s great then.”
I groaned quietly, rolling my eyes. I think my stepmother has a crush on you, David.
He nodded to himself, his eyes small with humor, aiming the pen tip to the top of the page. He went on then to explain some number jargon to Sam, and I turned back to my books, a breath away from asking for his help. I really just didn’t get this Pythagoras’ Theorem crap. I never had.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw David look over at me for a second, but as the numbers on the page started to shift magically into place in my brain, I phased him, Sam, and Vicki out, and concentrated on my homework—taking a sideways glance every now and then to see David look up at the same time. All I really wanted though was to go upstairs to my room so David and I could do our ‘homework’ in private.
A roll of paper hit my forearm then and bounced up, landing between my wrists.
David winked at me, rolling his hand in the air as if to say ‘Open it.’
As I unfolded the paper, perfect Victorian cursive handwriting stared back up at me in the words: ‘What, exactly, would we be doing in your room—other than homework?’
Stay out of my head!
He laughed and took a sip from his coffee cup. I threw the paper back at him, but he caught it without even looking.
Smart-ass, I thought. But if you were any decent sort of mind reader, you wouldn’t need to ask what I wanted to do with you in there.
He looked over at me, his face tight with a curious frown, cup poised at his lips. I waited until he dared to take another sip then showed him where I’d put my mouth if Vicki trusted me alone upstairs with a boy in my room.
Brown liquid burst all over Sam’s homework, spraying from David’s lips as he jerked up out of his chair, wiping his chin on his sleeve. “Ara!”
That’ll teach you. I giggled, covering my mouth.
Vicki stared between David and I while Sam, oblivious to all other life forms aside from himself, simply shook his head and sighed like we were immature, then went back to his homework.
“Ara,” Vicki said, handing David a dishcloth. “What did you do to the poor boy?”
“Nothing,” I said innocently.
“I’m sure.”
David placed the cloth and his cup in the sink, shaking his head the whole time, then popped up beside me and whispered quietly in my ear. “You need a filter on your thoughts, Ara-Rose.”
I brushed the side of my face affectionately down his chin, closing my eyes when his soft lips left a kiss behind. Then he wandered away and sat beside Sam again, still shaking his head.
“So, Ara,” Vicki said casually, “you have the girls coming for a sleepover this Saturday, right?”
“Mm-hm.” I nodd
ed.
“When are we going dress hunting then? I assume you’ll want to do it soon, before Mike arrives?”
“Did Ara tell you, Mom?” Sam interjected, winking at David. “David’s gonna buy her a dress.”
My head whipped around to look at my vampire; he smiled behind a book, keeping his eyes on the text and nowhere near my infuriated glare.
Vicki looked at me, then at David. “That’s a very kind offer, David. Are you sure?”
“I’m positive, Mrs. Thompson. If you take her shopping, I’ll cover the costs.”
“Dresses can be expensive,” she said in a remarkably condescending tone.
David leaned back in his chair and flopped his arm over the backrest. I knew he was probably thinking, I’m about eighty years older than you, lady. I think I know what things cost.
“There is no price too high. I want Ara to have the prettiest, most extravagant dress money can buy,” he said instead.
Vicki looked hopeful. “How much do you want her to spend?”
Don’t, David, please don’t. Vicki would definitely make me accept his ‘sweet’ offer. There’d be no arguing with her.
He grinned, completely ignoring me as he ripped a corner of his notepad, scribbled something down on it, showed it to Sam, who nodded, then passed it to Vicki. “No less than this.”
Vicki gasped.
“What? Vicki, how much? Tell me?” I whined.
She folded the paper and slipped it into her pocket, spinning back to the stove with a bounce in her step. “So we’ll go shopping on Saturday morning then, before your friends arrive?”
I folded my arms and looked at David.
“What?” He shrugged, holding both hands out, looking so cute and human that my heart melted, once again rendering me unable to defend myself and my beliefs.
You’re cheeky, David, but I love you. Doesn’t mean I’m accepting your money though.
He just cleared his throat as if to say, ‘We shall see.’
* * *
While David had mastered the styles and behaviors of the twenty-first century, when it came to automatically switching to ‘good boy’ mode around a girl’s parents, old habits died hard. He ate with the perfection of his inner English Lord, talking topics over dinner that had my dad more than a little impressed, and even complimented Vicki’s cooking. I kept watching his fork go from his plate to his mouth like a graceful bird flying, wondering how it affected him to eat human food. But when it came to the apple pie, I don’t think he was lying about it being his favorite, because he ate mine too. Then, he scored extra points with the parental units by helping me with the dishes, forever winning Sam over by giving him the night off. Didn’t earn enough trust for my dad to leave the kitchen, though. Instead, he decided to ‘read his paper’ while David and I stood by the sink, trying to talk about ‘human’ stuff.
David finished wiping the counter, and re-rolled his sleeves before sticking his hands back into the water and pulling out a soapy plate.
“Is it awful?” I asked, taking the plate in my towel-covered hand.
“Is what awful?”
I inched closer, keeping one eye on Dad. “Eating?”
David let out a short breath of laughter. “No. It’s very normal for me. I mean”—he bent his knees so his lips came in line with my ear—“it’s not totally necessary, but I still enjoy it.”
“Really? So, it tastes okay?”
“Yeah.” He laughed. “I guess it’s like chocolate; you don’t need it, and you can’t survive on it, but you can enjoy it now and then.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “I thought it’d be like vamp—I mean, like your kind in the movies, you know, how it tastes like ash.”
“Nope. Things actually taste better,” he added, handing me another plate. “My senses are very finely tuned, so taste is enhanced, touch is enhanced. Everything is.” His smile was oh-so incredibly suggestive.
“So?” I said slowly, running one finger at a snail’s pace down his spine, feeling the soft silk of his shirt bunch up as I glided along. “This feels better when you’re a vampire?”
“Shh.” He nodded toward my dad, his shoulders lifting with the slow breath he took after. “And, yes. That feels incredible.”
Dad stood up suddenly and walked out of the room then.
I held my breath. “Did he hear me?”
David tuned his ‘ear’ to Dad’s thoughts for a second. “No. He’s gone to talk to Vicki about Mike coming to stay.”
“What about it?”
“He just realized he might need some help getting that giant sofa out of the spare room. He’s going to ask me.”
“So he trusts you to help move furniture and do dishes, but not to be alone in the kitchen with his daughter?”
“Sounds pretty standard for dads, Ara.”
“Yeah, well maybe we should tell him you’re a vampire. At least then he’d stop worrying about me getting pregnant.”
“Why wouldn’t he worry?”
“Because you’re a vampire. Vampires can’t have babies.”
“That’s… not entirely true.”
“What!” I nearly dropped the plate I was holding.
He laughed and looked at the pile of dishes still ahead of us. “You know, I can think of at least three better ways to be spending our evening. You want me to get this done in record time?” A hint of mischief shimmered behind his eyes.
“Okay,” I said slowly, unsure what he meant.
He grabbed both of my shoulders and gently directed me to stand center to the room. “Count to twenty,” he said, and then disappeared into a blur of gray and black, like watching the road out the window when driving down the highway. The faucet ran, cupboard doors shut and opened, and I stood, mouth open, towel and plate still in hand, until David grabbed it and placed it on the shelf, closing the cupboard door after. “All done.”
“I never even started counting!” I said.
“Told you.” He jerked one shoulder up and dropped it. “I’m fast.”
“Hm.” I wrapped my arms along the sides of his waist and pressed my cheek to his shirt buttons. “I knew there was a reason I should keep you around.”
“Shall we go upstairs? I’ll give you a few more.”
“Tease.” I smiled, squeezing him tighter. We both knew he wouldn’t come upstairs with me. It was past ten o’clock, and he had his rules.
“It’s out of respect for you, Ara.”
“I know, but it’s annoying.” I pulled my scarf away from my neck a little, allowing the bruises to breathe.
“Look at you.” David ran his thumb over the skin just beside the mark. “We shouldn’t have done that. You’re going to have bruises for weeks.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” He covered the welt again. “I watched you fidget with that all night. I know it’s bothering you.”
“It was worth it.”
“No. I was way too rough with you.”
“I liked it.” I looked up, my voice and my eyes filling with all the guilt of a child who just stole the last cookie.
“You’re not the shy, meek little thing I thought you were, are you?”
“No, I’m really not and, you know, when you did that to me, it made me feel… I don’t know.” I shook my head, lost for the right word.
David smiled warmly. “I do. I believe the words you’re looking for are excited, awakened”—his voice lowered before he said—“aroused.”
That one struck a chord, making my cheeks hot. “What does that mean, though? Is that just because you’re a vampire, or am I messed up? Like, would I want you to do it if you were human?”
“Yes, it’s likely you would still enjoy it if I was human, but that does not, by any standards, make you messed up, Ara.”
My breath shuddered as I recalled the way his mouth felt on my neck. “Surely that’s not right—for me to be turned on by you doing dangerous things to me?”
“Of course it is. It’s called human natur
e. What’s not right is taking pleasure in taunting me when I’m about to kill you.”
“Is it…” I bit my lip, fighting back a smile. “Is it wrong for me to want you to… Nup. I can’t say it aloud.”
“Ara?” David stepped closer. “S’il te plaît, mon amour? What is it?”
“I want you to—”
“Ara,” Vicki called from the den. “It’s late, time you were getting to bed.”
I huffed the awkwardness out in one gust. “Sure, Vicki.”
“Ara, please?” David said quietly. “What were you going to say?”
Come back? I looked up at him. When she’s gone to bed?
“You know how I feel about that,” he said firmly.
I grinned. “Well, then I guess you’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to hear what I had to say.”
Vicki waltzed in then to see that we were obeying her command. “Goodnight, David.”
“Goodnight, Mrs. Thompson, and thank you for a lovely meal.” He smiled at Vicki with all the charm and sincerity of an eighteenth-century prince. She totally fell for it.
“Well, you’re welcome. Any time. Maybe next time I’ll cook something a little more interesting.”
“To be perfectly honest”—the prince bowed his head—“I’ve not had a meal that delicious in a long time.”
Vicki’s chest puffed up, and the smile on her face spread so wide I pictured her as a big feathery chicken that just laid an egg.
“I’ll see you soon?” I linked arms with him and led him to the door.
“You will. Until then”—he backed out the door, kissing my hand—“tu es dans toutes mes pensées.”
I heard Vicki gush behind me. Sucker.
But as the door closed, my own heart fluttered and a pathetic girlie giggle escaped. I didn’t even know what he said, but I bet it was romantic. All I knew, from growing up with Mike saying stuff like that all the time, was that S’il vous plaît was please, respectfully, and S’il te plaît was for addressing a close friend, while mon amour was my love. Not that Mike ever said that to me, but I heard him groaning it to other girls when I slept over his house. He really used his French heritage to his advantage when it came to girls. I wondered if David was doing that—trying to woo me—or if it was just a habit for him to speak it.
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