I can’t help myself, and tell her about Scott.
The song ends and the Foo Fighters launch into a cover of Tom Petty’s Lance Dance with Mary Jane. As soon as he sings a line about an ‘Indiana girl,’ I crack up laughing—and so does Dante.
Hunter, still confused, leans in and whispers, “Why are they playing that?”
I point at Dante. “He made a request.”
“Oh, very funny.” Amy overacts a sigh. “Anyway, don’t take me teasing you personally. You’re still a baby.”
“Umm,” says Hunter, “You don’t look much older than her.”
“Heh. Why thank you.” She winks at him. “I’m older than her mother, probably. You’re not a late surprise are you?”
“No. Mom was like twenty-five when she had me,” I say.
“Hey, you wanna see backstage?” asks Luke, jerking his thumb toward the band.
I go wide-eyed. “You have passes?”
Amy laughs. “Oh, wow, you are just too cute! No, sweetie. We’re above passes.”
“Whoa…” I gasp. “You’re gonna eat them?”
“Nah,” says Dante. “Just take a little sip. Don’t wanna kill the music.”
I glance back at Hunter. “Umm. I dunno. We can’t stay too late.”
“Aww, it’s okay.” Amy pats me on the cheek. “I understand. Can’t stay up past your bedtime.”
Even though I have a feeling she’s being playful, I still clench my jaw for a second. “More that my boyfriend has work tomorrow and I don’t want to ditch him.”
“Hey, it’s fine.” Dante pats me on the shoulder. “There’s always next time.”
8
Reasons and Thingees
Burgers sounded like a good idea for after the concert.
I’m not sure if the idea hit me because I’d been talking to Amy, who’d been turned in 1968 at twenty-one, but something about going to a burger joint as part of a date felt right. We tried to hit the Tipsy Cow, but they closed at ten, and we didn’t get back from the concert ’til after eleven. So Mickey Dee’s it is. Hardly the sort of milkshake-and-burger shop Amy might’ve gone to with her jock boyfriend at my age, but it’s what we have.
I can’t believe she married him, too. For all my indignation at how he treated her and how backward things were then, it scares me because I’d been so close to winding up the same girl. Had I chickened out and not dumped Scott, I might’ve married him. That probably comes from Dad. He’ll put up with uncomfortable things purely for the sake of them being familiar. Change is hard.
Hunter slides into the bench seat next to me. “Wow. I can’t believe you didn’t want to go backstage and meet the band.”
“It’s not that. It freaked me out a bit that they were gonna feed on them. It’s one thing to be legit invited back there, but, I dunno… bothers me that they’re forcing it. And the band won’t remember any of it.”
“Yeah, makes sense. I kinda felt like a walking snack pack around those guys anyway.”
I peer over the top of my milkshake at him. “I’m sorry if this is too much for you. If you’re uncomfortable—”
“I’m fine.” He smiles. “You did say you were complicated. I mean, you passed up a chance to meet the Foo Fighters for me.”
“Yep.” I grin. “And, well, I had a feeling that wouldn’t have ended well.”
“Not like drugs or anything would bother you.”
“Umm… I don’t think those guys are into that scene. I’m just not interested in doing the whole groupie thing. We would’ve been stuck back there until like five in the morning.”
He nods, fidgeting at his fries.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was just thinking about that stuff she said, about being our age in the sixties. Look at her. She could pass for eighteen.”
“Maybe to someone my parents’ age. She looks older to me.”
“Still. I’m kinda worried I’m gonna cause problems for you. Maybe us isn’t the greatest idea, for, you know… reasons.”
He doesn’t want to say vampire out loud in a McDonalds. Probably not a bad idea to keep quiet. The hurt on his face plucks at something inside me and I find myself in tears. Hunter grasps my hand in both of his.
“I think about watching you get old all the time.” I dab a napkin at my eyes. “It’ll hurt someday when I lose you. It’ll hurt a whole lot, but I don’t think that’s enough of a reason for us not to be together.” Once I stop sniffling and compose myself, I look up to meet his gaze. “If you’re okay with it.”
“It’s not about me at all.” Hunter brushes a hand over my head, smiling at me. “I want you to be happy. I really hope me being with you makes you happy, and I don’t care about any of that other stuff.” He taps a finger at my lip.
I smile back at him, relieved. “If you’re not worried about it, then neither am I.”
We fall into a normal conversation about the concert, that guitar-playing kid, Hunter’s job, and other random things while we eat. Every so often, I can’t help but glance out the window at the parking lot. That guy the ghost wanted me to find is still out there somewhere, but I don’t know what to do. Did grandpa think vampires have some weird power to just know things like ghosts do? Why didn’t he like give me an address or something? Maybe I should be doing something more… physical, like trying to find him online. I don’t even have a clue what city to start with. He might not even be in this state, though that seems unlikely. If he was that far away, the ghost would’ve asked some other vampire for help.
Right. I guess I’ll wait for either Glim to show up with some information or the ghost to come nag me about not doing anything. It’s not my fault he didn’t give me any information more than a name.
How many Alex Parrishes could there possibly be in Washington State?
Wait. Don’t answer that.
“Ugh.”
“What’s wrong?” asks Hunter.
I finish slurping a mouthful of vanilla shake, brace past the brain freeze, and wince at him. “You’d think I’m crazy.”
“After what you’ve already shown me, nothing would make me think you’re nuts.” He chuckles, then sticks two fries in his mouth like fangs.
I explain the whole ghost wanting me to find his heroin-addict grandson.
“What?” Hunter stares for a second. “You’re not seriously thinking of going looking for a drug dealer?”
“I don’t even know where to start.” I sigh. “And he’s not a dealer, just an addict.”
“Those people are dangerous,” says Hunter, his arm tightening around my back.
He’s worried about me. Aww. I lean against him, not wanting to ruin the moment. Across the room, an old couple starts whispering back and forth about how cute we are. For a little while, I pretend to be normal.
“Oh, duh.”
“Hmm?” I peer up at him.
“Like you’ve got anything to worry about from those losers.” He plays with a strand of my hair for a few seconds. “I can’t really think of you as dangerous.”
“Well good. I don’t think of myself as dangerous.” I flash a mischievous grin. “I prefer the term confident.”
He laughs.
When we kiss, the old couple both say, “Aww.”
Hunter creeps behind me down the basement steps with an expression like we’re breaking the law.
My whole family is way asleep at this hour, a little past midnight, and no one reacted to us coming in. Ever since I’ve developed superhuman powers of hearing, I’ve dreaded ‘catching’ my parents getting romantic. I mean, it’s kinda hypocritical of me to feel that way considering why I’ve brought Hunter here, but still. They’re my parents. They can do it. I just don’t wanna hear it. Or know they’re doing it. Or think about them doing it.
I shiver.
We ditch our shoes by the front door and scurry across the house to the kitchen, then downstairs to my room. Even with my amped-up senses, I doubt I’ll be able to hear anything from the second story with my d
oor closed, especially with someone here. Even his heartbeat is enough of a distraction from total silence that my awareness won’t be able to pick out such distant sounds unless I make a conscious effort to listen.
He shuts the door and takes a step in, holding his hands up and reaching around like he can’t see.
Oh wait. Everything’s black and white to me. He can’t see. I’m still not entirely used to that. “Hang on, let me get the light.”
He holds still as I slip past him to the wall switch. As soon as I flick it, my room erupts in full color. That is so trippy. After a moment of standing close and making silly faces at each other, we migrate to sit on the edge of my bed.
“Wow. So this is your room…” He looks around. “It’s so neat and clean. Love the stuffed animals.”
I fidget awkwardly. “Umm.”
“It’s cool. I still kinda miss my Snoopy. My dad got rid of it when I turned twelve. Said it wasn’t proper for a boy that age to have something like that.”
“Sorry.”
He chuckles. “I probably wouldn’t sleep with it anymore, but I’d have kept it on a shelf or something.”
We fall quiet, staring at each other.
“So, wow. I’m really in your room.”
“Yep,” I whisper, putting a hand on his leg. “You’re in my room.”
He grins, but nervousness wafts off him.
“It’s kinda warm in here,” I say, overacting innocence as I take off my T-shirt.
I reach over and pull him into a kiss. His worry melts away in a few minutes and we go over sideways onto the mattress, kissing and pawing at each other. It’s not long before I’m down to my underwear and he’s fumbling at his belt buckle, already shirtless.
Hunter pats himself down. “Umm. I… uhh… don’t have a… thingee.”
“A what?” I glance at his crotch.
“You know. A… thing.” He makes a ‘tearing open a packet’ gesture.
Oh, wow. He can’t even say the word condom in front of me.
“It’s okay. I’m a vampire, remember. I’ve got the ultimate birth control.”
“This is what you want?” asks Hunter.
I lean back on the bed, making a ‘come here’ gesture with my curling finger. “Yep. Is it what you want?”
“Oh.” He gulps. “It’s what I want more than anything… to be with you.”
“Well, get over here.” I grin and twist to expose my back. “And help me with this clip.”
9
The Talk
Emotion more than makes up for execution.
I’m dimly aware of being awake again, yet I’m still—or maybe I just started—dreaming about what happened between us last night. I hate myself for yet again comparing things to Scott, but I have to. Being with Hunter is so much better. Sure, he had no damn idea what he was doing, but neither did I my first time. With Scott, I always felt a bit like an object there for his pleasure. He’d grab me and hold on like he was riding a rodeo bull in a bar.
And don’t even get me started on the disaster of our first try.
Hunter, on the other hand, worried so much about being gentle it distracted him. And yeah, sure, playing to a guy’s sense of pride is exactly the sort of thing I hate, but I pretended to be more clueless than I am about sex so he didn’t feel self-conscious. Though, it wasn’t at all completely about him having a good time, like with Scott. Hunter kept asking me if I was okay, in between telling me how much he loves me and how I’m his dream come true. I wanted to make sure that he had a beautiful first time, unlike Scott who never gave a shit about that. As long as he got off, ‘sex was great.’
We, Hunter and I that is, cared for each other.
And, maybe I’m not all that much an expert on sex as I think I am. It’s not like I’ve truly made love before, if I wanna think romantically about it. There’s a big difference between sex and making love, and I think I got a decent idea of exactly how big it is last night.
No, not that. I mean how big the difference is.
And… he’s not too bad in that regard either.
Grinning to myself, I take a deep breath, savoring his scent. And something else. I sniff. Cosmetics.
Oh, no.
I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling for a few seconds to get up the courage to look left.
Hunter’s asleep beside me with one arm across my chest. Neither one of us have anything on, except for the blanket. Well, that’s not true. Hunter’s wearing makeup, heavy on the eyeshadow. A pretty fab mascara job, too. And pink lipstick… and rouge.
The giggle that forms at the sight of him stalls when I process that Sophia had been in here with us. I can’t remember how much we covered up afterward to sleep. Hopefully, if she saw anything, it would’ve only been from the waist up. I’m sure she tucked the blanket up higher than it had been to cover my chest. Fair bet I’ve been victimized by the cosmetics fairy as well.
Whoa. He’s still sleeping. What the hell time is it?
I twist over to peer at the clock and gasp when I see it’s only noon. Wow, that’s a new one. I’m awake way earlier than I’ve opened my eyes ever since becoming a vampire. It’s also the first time I’ve had sex since becoming a vampire. Does that mean anything?
“Hey,” says Hunter, delirious. “Morning.”
“Almost afternoon.” I snuggle back into the covers, feeling too heavy to move. Maybe this is the vampire version of briefly waking up in the middle of the night, only I don’t have to pee. Oh… wait. I do. Umm. I have to do more than pee… “Be right back.”
I slip out of bed and drag myself across the dim basement to the bathroom. Milkshake, burger, and fries want out. Yeah that’s uncomfortable. I hold my breath. Not that it stinks—it smells no worse than food that’s been sitting around for a few hours, but that’s the problem. I don’t want to smell something good in here. Or, okay, maybe not good so much as not horrible.
Once the atrocity is over with, I check myself in the mirror. Yeah. I look like the Joker going through an impressionist blue period. There’s no way I should be functional right now, and it’s quite obvious I lack the coordination to shower. Grumbling, I stagger back to bed and collapse.
Hunter says something, but my brain, hurtling toward sleep, disregards it.
The next thing I know, I’m awake again. Hunter’s sitting cross-legged beside me, his back against the cinder block wall. He’s dressed and fiddling with his phone. I’m still only wearing the sheets.
“Hello again.” He grins. “You’re pretty committed to sleep. I couldn’t nudge you awake.”
“Side effect of… things.” I sit up, glance down at my exposed boobs, and gasp. Crap! I went out to the bathroom completely naked. Holy cow. I’m so lucky no one came downstairs and caught me.
“Umm?” asks Hunter. “You’re turning bright red.”
I hop out of bed and grab a big T-shirt from the floor, explaining what happened as I pull it over my head.
He laughs.
“That’s not funny.”
“Did you put makeup on while sleepwalking?”
I smirk. “Technically, it’s not sleepwalking. I was… well, not quite awake. And, no. That’s my sister’s doing. She got you too.”
He freezes. “Your sister? As in your little sister was in here?”
“Yep. She does that sometimes for practice. She wants to work in cosmetics, like for movies and stuff, when she’s older.” I raise my right hand. “Hi, I’m Sarah and I’m a makeup dummy.”
His turn to blush.
“I don’t think she saw much. We had a sheet on, right?”
He scratches the back of his head. “I don’t really remember.”
“Shower. Right.” I already took one at like two in the morning after he went to sleep to clean myself up. Scott always used a ‘thingee,’ so eww. Yeah. Things they don’t warn you about beforehand. Now I need another one. Shower that is.
“Go ahead,” says Hunter. “I’ll, umm, wait here.”
“P
robably a good plan.” I chuckle. “While my parents can probably handle what we did in here last night, showering together might be a bit too much for them.”
He nods.
I check the weather app on my phone. Gloomy. Perfect. It’s 2:28 p.m. plus overcast, so I should be good to go sunlight wise. After a few minutes of flirting and some light kissing, I head out the door and go upstairs.
Sophia’s in the living room doing stretches. She’s got the ‘hot pants’ from her dance recital on plus a clingy racerback top, and her toes are almost touching the top of her head. At least she’s balancing in the middle of the room. If she loses her grip on her foot, she’s not going to smash anything.
Sierra’s sprawled on the floor, engrossed in her PlayStation. I don’t recognize the game; she’s tromping down what looks like corridors of an alien ruin. Sophia glances over at me, grins, blushes, and lets go of her leg, swooping it down to the floor with the grace of a ballerina.
“Nice makeup job on Hunter.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “I think you got something there with doing it professionally—for Kabuki Theater.”
“Huh?” asks Sophia.
Sierra cracks up giggling.
Dad walks in from his office. “Oh, hey Sarah.”
Sophia looks at him. “I think Sarah and Hunter did it last night.”
And… my face is on fire. I can practically smell the cosmetics melting.
Dad shifts his gaze to me. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” says Sophia. “They were in bed together and didn’t have any clothes on.”
Oh, I wanna fall into a tiny little hole.
“Well,” says Dad, smooth as silk, “She is eighteen now. You should probably give her some privacy when she has a friend over for the night.”
Dad loves embarrassing me.
“How old will I haveta be before I can sleep with a boy in my room?” asks Sophia.
Dad sputters. “Thirty-five.”
Sophia gasps. “Dad!”
“Damn.” He sighs and looks down. “Okay. I guess it’s time for that talk.” He holds his arm out to Sophia. “Come on.”
Vampire Innocent (Book 3): The Artist of Ruin Page 7