by Temple West
“But I’ll be back this summer. Four whole months.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “I’m going to bring all my supplies and start a new series. It’s an idea that’s been floating around in my head for a few years and I’ve been looking for a model, but no one on campus is right.”
Jenny looked up at him from underneath her lashes, but I couldn’t read her expression.
“I was wondering—well, to be honest Jenny, you’re stunning. I was wondering if maybe you’d like to model for me? I mean, I know that sounds weird, but it’s totally clothed, it wouldn’t creepy or anything. I can’t pay you much, but I do have some money set aside.”
I could see Jenny immediately tense. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
He looked surprised and a little hurt. “Why?”
Her eyes fluttered wildly around the room, reminding me of a trapped bird. “Meghan’s into this sort of thing. Go talk to Meghan. I’ll go get her.”
She stood and made a bid for freedom and he simply put his hands on her waist and prevented her from moving.
“Jenny,” he said, backing her toward the fridge with his sheer overwhelming presence. “If I wanted Meghan, I would have asked Meghan. I asked you.”
For a moment, I thought they were going to kiss, which was crazy, they’d just met a few hours ago. Well, they’d probably known of each other their entire lives, but I doubted they’d ever really talked much before tonight, unless there was something I didn’t know, but it didn’t seem likely from the tone of their conversation.
But they didn’t kiss. They stared at each other for a long moment and then Mark stepped back. “Just think about it, okay?” Jenny nodded.
I made my way back to my sleeping bag and crawled in, completely flabbergasted by what I’d just witnessed. I briefly considered telling Trish, but discarded the idea. She’d either kill Jenny or kill Mark. Probably Mark.
Besides, it was absolutely none of my business.
But it was very interesting.
* * *
“You sleep like the dead,” Trish commented, pouring herself a bowl of Cap’n Crunch. It was ironic, because I’d had a nightmare in which I’d died quite grossly from some sort of flesh-eating bacteria. I was happy to be awake. The rest of the girls were lounging on their sleeping bags, munching on bowls of cereal and watching cartoons. It felt like I was in second grade again. It was awesome.
Trish held out the Cap’n Crunch. I grabbed it and sat up, glancing over at Jenny surreptitiously. She seemed more relaxed than usual, and maybe it was just my imagination, but she looked like she had some color in her cheeks, too. In my head, the whole scene last night seemed kind of surreal, but then I remembered the fact that I was dating a vampire who wasn’t allowed to love me and couldn’t die and revised the level of weirdness for Jenny’s situation.
People started wandering off after breakfast. Aunt Rachel came to pick me up at one, after I promised Trish that I’d come back for her New Year’s party, and bring Adrian. Meghan made a special point of saying she’d come back if Mark was going to be there.
At the very least, it would be an interesting New Year’s.
I hopped in the shower once I got home and threw on one of the new green sweaters Rachel had gotten me for Christmas. I could hear my phone ringing from my bedroom, and hurried in to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s me. Just wanted to let you know your studio is all set up.”
I blinked. “Already?”
“Did you want to come over tomorrow and see it?”
I breathed for a moment. I hadn’t made anything since well before my mom’s funeral, besides the little embroidered pictures for the girls, and those didn’t really count. He seemed to sense my hesitation.
“It’s just a tour. Don’t feel pressured to use it anytime soon.”
I let the breath out. “Yeah, I’d like that.” I was about to say good-bye when I remembered—“Oh! I promised Trish we’d go to her New Year’s Eve party. Is that okay?”
He sounded amused. “Sure.”
“Good. There’s something I want your opinion on once we get there; it’s too hard to explain now.”
“Now I’m curious.”
“Then you know what it feels like to be me.”
He laughed. “Fair enough. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Don’t you mean tonight?”
“Yes,” he conceded. “To be fair, though, I see you every night. I don’t always see you tomorrow.”
I laughed at him and we said good-bye and hung up.
I couldn’t tell Trish about Jenny and Mark—but I could tell Adrian. He was a master of discretion, and more importantly, he was impartial. I’d tell him what I’d seen, and then have him observe Jenny and Mark at the party, and see if Mark’s intentions were pure. Part of me was freaked out that maybe Mark was not Mark, and that Mark was Adrian’s dad, and that they’d gotten it all wrong and Jenny was the one in danger, somehow, not me.
For now, I settled on reveling in Christmas vacation. First: bake cookies. Second: eat them all. Repeat as desired.
* * *
“I’m nervous,” I said the next day as we were driving to Adrian’s house. “Tell me not to be nervous.”
“Don’t be nervous.”
We pulled up to the wrought-iron gates surrounding his property. He pushed a button on his key ring and they swung silently inward. Once again, I was reminded of how his mansion looked like it was pulled straight out of a fairy tale, especially with the weeks of accumulated snow on the grounds. He parked and we dashed inside to get out of the cold.
“Caitlin!” I heard a small voice say at the same time I felt something latch on to my waist.
“He finally learned your name after reading it on the cover of the book about fifty times,” Adrian said, hanging up my coat.
I hugged Lucian’s shoulders and looked down at him. “Are you gonna come see my new room with us?”
He looked over at his brother, who nodded, and then back at me, smiling happily.
“It’s upstairs,” Adrian said, leading the way. Lucian and I followed him to the third floor and down the hallway, all the way to the end. Adrian stepped behind me and put his hands over my eyes.
“You ready?”
“Sure,” I said, unconvincingly.
“Lucian, you want to grab the door for me?”
I heard rustling and the soft turn of the handle and then Adrian was nudging me forward until we were inside the room. Slowly, he lowered his hands. I opened my eyes. I blinked.
“Holy shit.”
Belatedly, I clapped my hands over Lucian’s ears.
The room faced the front of the house, so the roof angled steeply to the floor, studded with huge windows. A cutting table was set up against the far wall and my serger and sewing machine had been set up back-to-back on a short table in the center of the room. The walls were lined with shelves, already partially filled with bolts of fabrics.
“They sent some samples based off the sketches you did. I know it’s not everything you need, but it’s a place to start.”
I stared at the room. “I can’t even contemplate how much this cost you.”
He shrugged. “It didn’t really cost me anything. Besides, when you make it as a famous designer, you can pay me back with free clothes.”
I continued to stare at the room in complete shock. It was not sinking in that this was all mine to use anytime I wanted. I sucked in a deep breath and went to the wall of fabric, running my hands lightly over the cloth.
“Your sketchbooks are on the table and the drawers over there are full of scissors and needles and threads and … stuff,” Adrian said, looking a little lost as he pointed to rows of dark, wood-paneled drawers. I peeked inside—professional equipment. Top of the line.
“Adrian,” I said, feeling a little dizzy, “I can’t ever repay this.”
“It’s a gift,” he explained. “You’re not supposed to.”
I tur
ned back to him. He was standing with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, wavy dark hair framing his face; his gray eyes soft and warm even in the cold, blue light coming from the windows. I rested my face against a bolt of silk and closed my eyes.
“I’m happy.”
I heard a small whap a few moments later and opened my eyes to discover that Lucian had jumped on one of the mannequins and was currently riding it around the room like a horse.
“Frankie,” Adrian said in a warning tone. “This is one room you can’t play in, okay? This is Caitlin’s room.”
He climbed off the mannequin immediately and sheepishly wheeled it back to the others. Overcome with a giant bubble of happiness, I danced over to Adrian and threw my arms around him in a hug. “You’re the best,” I murmured. “Thank you so much.”
I heard a low whistle from the door and looked up to find Julian leaning against the frame, staring at us. Adrian instantly pulled away from me.
“I’m dying to know how you justified this to Mariana,” Julian said, taking in the room. His eyes settled on me speculatively. “Caitlin, my dear, I feel it’s my duty to inform you that extravagant gifts are my brother’s absurd version of foreplay.”
Before I could even blink, Adrian had crossed the room and slammed his brother violently against the wall. “Shut up,” he demanded him in a voice so low I almost couldn’t hear.
Julian just rolled his eyes, looking bored. “This is exactly what I’ve been talking about.”
Adrian looked livid, though his voice was calm. “Do not threaten me.”
“I don’t need to threaten anyone.” Julian laughed. “I don’t need to say a word. You’ll see how this ends, eventually. The difference between us is that I don’t disillusion myself about this shit.”
I felt someone grip my hand. It was Lucian. Adrian’s eyes flicked over in our direction for a moment, and then back to his older brother. Finally, he released him. “You’re pathetic.”
Julian adjusted the neck of his shirt. “And you still don’t understand. You really don’t. The day’s gonna come, bro, and it’s going to suck.” He winked at me over Adrian’s shoulder. “No pun intended.”
Adrian pointed at the door. “Get out.”
Julian looked at me over Adrian’s shoulders. Finally, he left.
I let a few moments pass as Adrian stood silent and still. “Adrian?”
He didn’t turn around. “Do not talk to me right now,” he murmured, voice was shaking with rage.
I took a step back like I’d just been slapped.
“Damn it, Caitlin; stop feeling that!” He whirled toward me, eyes blazing silver. “This isn’t about you.”
“I didn’t say it was,” I replied, blinking back sudden tears. “I didn’t say anything at all.”
Adrian glared at me a moment longer, then leaned forward with his arms against the table, head bowed. Lucian hugged me, his face pressed into my waist. We stood there like that for an entire long, silent minute. Finally, he stood up, refusing to face me, eyes normal and gray again. “Come on; I’m taking you home.”
I didn’t move. “Adrian, please talk to me.”
He headed for the door. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“What just happened?” I asked, trying to sound resolute although I was terrified. I’d never seen him angry before, and it reminded me how very not human he was.
He leaned his forehead against the door and breathed. “Just Julian being an ass, as usual.”
It was a vague answer, but it was an answer. I wasn’t going to push him. “Okay.”
I walked up to Adrian and stood there. He turned slowly to face me. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and brought his hand up like he was going to brush his fingers through my hair, but thought better of it and lowered his hand. He blinked and repeated his apology. “I’m sorry. If you can, just forget what you saw. It’s not important.”
I searched his face, but he wouldn’t meet my gaze for more than a moment.
“Adrian,” I began, but didn’t know how to finish.
He looked agonized for a moment. “You feel…” He seemed to search for the right word, but couldn’t find it. He closed his eyes. “I can’t do this.”
“What do you mean?” I whispered.
He opened his eyes. “Nothing. I mean nothing. Come on, I should get you home.”
He reached for the door and I reached for his arm, stopping him. “Will you tell me someday? What this is about?”
He finally met my gaze. “Maybe. One day.”
I nodded, and let go of his arm.
Adrian turned back to his little brother. “Frankie, why don’t you stay here this time?”
Lucian looked sad, but didn’t protest.
We drove back in silence, without even the sound of the radio to distract me from the weird stress emanating from Adrian. When we reached my house, he parked and leaned back, closing his eyes.
I turned in his direction, careful not to touch him. “I’m sorry if I’ve caused any tension between you and Julian.”
“Caitlin, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for,” he replied without moving a muscle.
“In that case,” I continued, “I apologize on behalf of life.” He opened his eyes and peered at me strangely. “For dealing you cards from a completely different game than the rest of us,” I clarified. “It’s kind of impossible to win that way.”
It was a weird way to put it, but he seemed to get what I was trying to say. I opened my door, but he stopped me before I could actually get out of the truck.
“What time do you want me to pick you up for Trish’s party?”
I tried to plaster a happy smile over the unease I felt. “How about nine?” I suggested. “I think the party starts sometime after that.”
He nodded. I closed my door. Once he pulled away and I was back inside, all I could think was, What the hell just happened?
15
FIVE MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT
“Please be careful,” Rachel said for the hundredth time that evening. She was determined to dress me up for the party, so I was currently sitting on the toilet seat waiting for her to finish curling my hair.
“I will,” I promised her. Again.
She began curling another piece distractedly. “I know it’s just Stony Creek, but people still drink on New Year’s Eve and the roads are very slick.”
“I promise we will not be drinking tonight.”
She bit her lip, looking very mom-ish and concerned as she fussed with my hair. “I know, but other people might be.”
“Adrian’s a very careful driver,” I reassured her. “If someone looks like they’re driving all crazy, he’ll pull over.”
I felt like I should be annoyed, but I kind of liked that she was worried about me.
Rachel released my hair from the curling iron and picked up another strand. “You and Adrian seem to be pretty happy with each other.” It was more of a question than a statement.
I shrugged. “Yeah. We are.” Just not in the same way most couples were, since we were not, in fact, a couple.
Rachel tested the strand of hair with her finger and decided it wasn’t quite hot enough yet. “So how serious are you two?”
I frowned. “We’re not about to get engaged, if that’s what you mean.”
“Well, I mean more … are you two … together?”
I stared at her, trying to figure out where she was going with this. “We’re dating.”
She took a deep breath and looked way more awkward and nervous than I’d ever seen her. “Okay, let’s go for the blunt approach. Are you two having sex?”
I blinked.
I blinked again.
And then I burst into laughter. I had to dab at my eyes before my mascara got all smeared.
“I know I’m not your mom,” she said, looking flustered, “and I’m not here to cast judgment on you if you are … doing … that, but I just want to make sure you’re being safe.”
“Is this, like, the
talk?” I asked, trying not to giggle, and totally failing. I decided to spare her the embarrassment of having this conversation. “No,” I said adamantly. “We are not having sex. I will let you know if we do.”
She still looked kind of awkward and nervous, but relieved, too. “Good. You have your whole life to live without worrying about being physically intimate with another human being.”
I nodded gravely but on the inside I was laughing again—Adrian wasn’t exactly a human being.
“There,” she said, releasing the last strand from the curling iron. She ran a comb through my hair, twisting the individual strands into larger, more elegant curls. “You’re all set.”
I hopped off the toilet cover and stood in front of the mirror. And had another Green Thing moment. I forgot that underneath normal, plain Caitlin was a more sophisticated, somewhat less-plain Caitlin. It also helped that Rachel had done my makeup; she was wicked good with eyeliner. As much as I was interested in fashion, I hadn’t exactly mastered makeup yet—Mom hadn’t worn any, ever, so I’d tried to copy what I saw in magazines and Vogue shoots, to very, very limited success. Most of the time I went really simple: foundation, mascara, ChapStick. Tonight, though …
Norah passed by in the hallway, stopped, backtracked, and looked in. “Is prom early this year?” she asked, staring at me.
“Is it too much?” Rachel asked her daughter, looking worried.
“No,” Norah said. “I’ve just never seen Caitlin look so…” She trailed off as if the reflection in the mirror spoke for itself.
“Thanks, Norah,” I said, and meant it.
“Adrian’s here,” Norah said suddenly, turning. Wow, how had she heard that?
“Hurry up and get dressed!”
I ran into my room and threw off my bathrobe. Careful not to mess up my makeup or frizz my hair, I tugged the dress over my head and looked at myself in the full-length mirror hanging on the inside of my wardrobe. It was a knee-length black dress with a square-cut neck and sheer, wrist-length sleeves. I slid on my Halloween stilettos and contemplated what coat to wear. My regular jacket would look awkward over this outfit.
There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” I called, rifling through the wardrobe a little frantically.