by A. M. Hudson
heartache, than never to have lived at all.”
“I know. I do know that. And—” I pictured my future, my children, my wrinkled skin, “—
And I want a life, but…but the heartache is worse than I thought.”
David looked at my hand, over my heart, and nodded. “I know.”
We held our gaze for a long moment, leaving our future resting on the pause of a few simple
words. After a while, I sighed, turning my face away when the words refused to come.
“He’s right for you, you know.” David broke the silence, though the tension stayed as thick as
blood.
“Who?”
“Mike.”
My quiet breath sunk.
“I want you to be with him. I want you to go back to Perth with him.”
I looked up quickly.
“I see in his thoughts, Ara. I wat ch him wit h you. He loves you—deeply.” Davi d lost his
voice on the last word, closing his eyes as he said it.
“I know, David. I know he loves me, and—I love him too.” I had to whisper, afraid my words
would wound him forever; like somehow, making my voice low might take away some of the sting.
“But I can’t go with him. I can’t. I just can’t leave you here al—”
“Ara. Be smart.” David dropped to his knees in front of me. “I can’t have you here, lingering
in a place I may one day return. That’s not living. You have to go—you have to be far away so I can
never find you. I won’t do it. I won’t return and ruin your life, and, knowing how close you are—that
I could just drive to you—would be more agony than I could bear.”
The tears in my eyes turned to thick droplets as they spilled onto my cheeks. He’s right. It
would be selfish of me to wait around here for him—to hope he might change his mind and become a
fake human. If he leaves his Set, he will have nothing, and one day, I’ll be gone anyway. At least, for
now, we suffer the absence in union—desolate union.
“I just can’t say goodbye, David.”
“This is not goodbye. Not yet. I still have a few more days.” He smil ed and sat beside me on
the piano stool. I tried to steady my pulse, push ing away the memory of the first time I saw that
dimple, how I wanted nothing in the world except him—just him. Life or death or murder meant
nothing—I just wanted him.
“I know.” I cleared my throat. “Until the last red leaf falls, right?”
“Until the last red leaf falls,” he said with a grin.
I touched my fingertips to David’s face, and he held my hand to his cheek, closing his eyes .
My heart picked up with the desire to lay against him—safe in his strong , loving arms—held tight ,
like nothing could ever bring me harm.
If only we could r un away—run from everything. Run from reality and the supernatural, r un
from fate and tragedy. But we couldn’t.
“Where will you go—what will you do when I’m gone?” I asked.
David looked down and then smi led as our eyes met. “See the pyramids.” He shrugged.
“Always wanted to fly a silver plane, too.”
I managed a soft smile.
“Don’t you ever for get, Ara, how much I love you.” He placed both ha nds on my face, then
turned my head slowly. “And you still, and always will, belong to me.”
I nodded, rolling my cheek into his thumb as he wiped a tear away. Then, he slowly lowered
his lips to mine, and like so many times before, th ey fit to perfection, like we were made for each
other—but so cruelly unsuited to ea ch other. We’d kissed for love, kissed for lust, for happiness and
thankfulness, but this was a kis s of sorrow, of loss and despair, yet so full of love—so soft and so
gentle. Like a beast handling priceless porcelain.
But even with the warmth in my soul, weight less from his touch, the small silver locket
around my neck fel t heavy under the pain of i mminent separation. It had felt that way for so long
now, but only in his ar ms, with his lips once agai n belonging to mine, I could finally see that it
always would—and I wasn’t sure I could bear it.
I yanked the chain loose and held it out to David as I pulled away from the kiss. “I’m sorry. I
just can’t do this.”
“Ara?” David’s voice overflowed with confusion as he held the locket in his open palm.
“It’s too painful for me. I can’t keep this as a memory of you. I need to forget. I need to try to
move on, and every time I do, this is a constant reminder that you’re no longer a part of my life.” My
voice broke— shattered as I delivered the words I knew were tearing out his heart.
His rounded eyes burned thr ough me, deep into my soul; he wanted me to feel what he f elt
right then, but I already knew. I could feel it myself—in my bones, breaking my resolve.
I looked away. It hurt too much to see that on his face—the mirrored grief that was in mine,
that was radiating fr om my soul, just as it was from his. It w ould only destroy me over and over
again. The locket sat in David’s outstretched palm, shimmering like moonlight on sand in the soft ,
dull light of our eternal darkness.
Placing my thumb against the heart, I closed his finger-tips around it and held my grip there
for a second, then kissed his hand. “This is not goodbye, remember?” I reminded him—studying his
liquid green eyes.
“Not yet, anyway.” He nodded solemnly as he placed my heart into his pocket, and then, li ke
so many times before, without a word, without a smile, the darkness was the on ly thing I saw in his
place.
Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Dad forced me back to school again, but I di dn’t want to come. I don’t really fit in here
anymore.
With my back against the wall outside Mr. Benson’s class, I hugged my books—the books
David usually carried—and watched everyone pass. They di dn’t talk to me. They hardl y even
gawked at me anymore, and the horrid yellow linoleum just seemed to be a part of the scenery,
ironically, like me—didn’t mean it fit, though.
“Hey, did you hear?” Emily came bounding over.
“Depends. What was I supposed to hear?”
“The benefit? We raised enough to cover Nathan’s funeral.” Emily’s cheeks lifted with her
grin. “And due to an anonymous donation, Mrs. Rossi won’t have to pay the hospital bill either.”
“Wow, that’s really great.” We moved out of the way when Mr. B walked past us to get into
class. “So, who’s the donor?”
Emily glared at me wi th a raised brow. “Ara, the point of being anonymous is that no one
knows who you are.”
“Oh, right.” I closed my eyes for a second. “Sorry. I’m just—I’m not really with it today.”
“Are you ever?” she asked; I shrugged. “So, what happened to you anyway, aft er the show?
You just disappeared.” She fluttered her hands as if throwing a handful of butterflies into the air.
“I uh, well.” I actually don’t know—I blanked out.
“Is it Mike? ‘Cause you guys seem pretty friendly.” She paused for a moment. “Is Mi ke
taking you to the ball? Since David had to go New Hampshire?”
New Hampshire, huh. “I haven’t asked him? But, I guess he will. It’s been really busy around
my place lately.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. We haven’t even gone shopping for my dress yet.”
“Oh, my God. Emily. I’m so sorry. I
totally forgot.”
“I don’t blame you, not with a hunk l ike that hanging around.” S he elbowed me s oftly,
hugging her books into her chest.
“Can I make it up to you?” I asked.
“Yeah, okay.” She lifted one shoulder and dropped it. “Hey, why don’t we go tonight? Maybe
have some dinner out?”
I grinned. “You know—” a chance to live a norm al life for a while, free from the confines of
life or love decisions, “—that may be just what I need. What time?”
“Six fine with you?”
“Sounds—great.” Really great, actually.
We parted ways and I suffered the trials of obligation for the next seven hours i n silence. It
was during this silent wandering I had a revelation; school is so boring. I’m not coming tomorrow,
and probably not for the rest of this week actually. I want as much time with Mike as I can get before
he boards that plane next Monday, and if I decide not go with him, disappears from my life forever.
It seems to be the way with people I love; I get to hold them, love them only long enough to
realise I can’t live without them, and then they’re gone. A blink of an eye.
There’s no goi ng back to the simplicity, the un complicated rose-coloured glasses of love.
Love is not enough anymore, and if love were trul y blind, then I’d surely be running away with
David. I’d forget about life’s desires and follow my heart.
But the heart must not be allowed to rule the mind. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
But I’m starting to wonder which one is which.
Mike sprawled out across my bed and sorted through the playlists on my iPod while I fussed
about in my wardrobe, choos ing a dress to wear out. “So, what’s this shopping trip for again?” he
called.
“Um. Emily needs a dress f or the ball . I was su pposed to go wit h her last week, but…” I
shrugged to myself.
“Ball?” The words came fr om directly behind me; I spun arou nd and smacked into the broad
chest of my pervert friend.
“Mike?” I covered my bra with my hands. “Get out of here!”
“Relax, kid, I’ve seen it all before.”
How can I relax? The man who just confessed his love for me is standing in my wardrobe,
while I’m practically naked. “No.” I shoved him. “Get out. You can talk to me when I’m decent.”
“You look pretty decent, now.” His smug grin and raised brow made me smile, but common
sense took over and I shoved him again.
“Out. Now!”
“Okay, okay.” He rai sed his hands, laughing at me as he backed ou t and stood by the door.
“So, are you going to the ball?”
“Well, I—” I looked at the dr ess, hanging in all its glory on the hook beside me, with t he
shimmering blue fabric catching the light.
“Was David supposed to take you?” Mike asked from right behind me again.
“Hey. I said out!”
“Just answer me and I’ll go.”
“Don’t give me that cheeky grin, Michael Christopher White. I said out. Now, out!”
He grabbed the finger I pointed into his face. “Make me.”
“I shouldn’t have to. You should give a girl some respect.”
“I do respect you.” He pulled me into him and placed his arms around my bare waist. “I’m
also just very attracted to you. So—” his warm, soft lips pressed to my forehead, “—can I escort you
to the ball—since the flesh eater isn’t here?”
Flesh eater? Oh, right, Mike’s referring to the bruises on my neck. “Don’t talk about him like
that, Mike,” I scolded. “Besides, I thought you hated getting all dressed up?”
“Who me?” He grinned, his eyes flashing with mischief. “Ara. It would be a great privilege to
dress like a penguin and dance with the most beautiful girl in the room. Besides, we both know I look
hot in a suit.”
“You’re so sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Only with good reason.” Mike clasped his hands together tightly behind me. I wanted to tell
him to get out, but I also wanted him to stay. I just wanted it to feel right. But it wasn’t right. Not yet.
“So, what’d ya say—will you let this lowly Aussie hunk escort his princess to the ball?”
“No, but I’ll let my best friend do it.”
“Great. It’s settled then. I’ll go get a suit tomorrow.”
Mike cradled my face against him a nd rested his head on mine, continuing his wel comed
intrusion. Strangely though, i t felt like I was betraying David—this close to the ni ght, when it
should’ve been time for him to come through my window.
Only, I knew that when I got home from shopping with Emily, I’d be alone. In fact, I ’d be
alone every night.
David told me it wasn’t goodbye—not yet, but Sunday night passed in the same way it had
since he left me. I could feel it in the air, the sun, the glow of the stars. David was gone again, and I
wouldn’t let myself lay awake waiting for him anymore. I still never locked my window, though.
“Um, Mike,” I said into his warm, firm chest—my lips practically eating his shirt with each
word. “Kinda need to breathe.”
“Oh, sorry.” He let me loose. “I always forget how fragile you are.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, now, out. I need to get dressed.”
“Ara?” Vicki called. “Emily’s here.”
“Send her up,” I called back and glared at Mike.
“Okay.” With his palms up, he walked backward and laughed at my ‘nose in the air’ stance,
then turned around, but didn’t leave. “Maybe I’ll take Sam to another movie.”
“You two are getting pretty close.”
“Yeah. He’s a good kid,” he said, looking down as I pulled my jeans on.
“He’ll be sad when you go.”
“Maybe I just won’t go, then?” I could hear the question in his suggestion. He wanted me to
ask him to stay, but I j ust couldn’t promise him my heart—not while it was still trying to hold on to
David. I shrugged instead. “I’m not having this conversation with you, right now, Mike. I have too
much on my mind.”
He went quiet, nodding his head, then wedged both hands into his pockets and t ook one last
long look at me, leaving with a cheeky grin on his face.
After a less than success ful shopping trip, Em ily and I sat empty ha nded at the café and
ordered a burger. “Mike seems nice.” Her eyelids fluttered as she spoke. “You were definitely right
about his cuteness.”
I nodded and swallowed my mouthful of burger. “He feels r eally bad for practically shaking
you the other day.”
“It’s okay. Really. I get it. He was worried.” He r smile subsided to a frown. “Really worried,
actually.”
I nodded, feeling pretty awkward.
“So, how’s David?” she asked. “Have you two run up a huge phone bill yet?”
“Em—” I placed my burger down. “I uh...I haven’t spoken to David since he left.”
“What?” she scr eeched; everyone in the café turned to look at us. “What do you mean?
Why?”
“It’s just that—” My lips presse d together to hide the quivering. “You remember when I said
I never planned to marry him?”
“Yes...”
“Well, I wasn’t joking.”
She looked confused. “Okay, I get that, but, I thought you were just having a dull moment.”
I
shook my head. “David wasn’t going on holiday. He...he was moving away—permanently.
We...we’re kinda broken up.”
Emily’s face contorted into an illustration of her thoughts. “No. That can’t be. I don’t believe
you—he loves you. Why would he just go?”
“It was for the best. He and I, we’re too different; we want different things.” I shrugged, and
with a barely steadier voice said, “He didn’t want me to miss out on my chance to fall in love and
have a life.”
“Fall in love? A life? But, you loved David, right?”
“Ye—”
“So what couldn’t he give y ou that s omeone else can?” Em ily cut in, leaving her burger
abandoned on her plate.
There was no way to explain this to another teenager without telling the whole trut h. She’d
never understand the desire to have a... “A family.” I pulled one shoulder up to my ear.
“Ara? You’re seventeen. Why would you want that now?”
“I don’t. I mean, not now, anyway. But one day,” I said. “David—he just can’t do that.”
“Is he—” her eyes narrowed, “infertile?”
“I guess you could say that.” I laughed aloud.
“Oh, wow. Well, he must love you then, to leav e just because of that. I mean, couldn’t you
adopt?”
“It’s complicated.” And this is very defeating. “I just really wanna have my own children. I
want to know what it’s like to be pregnant one day and have little babies that look like me,” and then
there’s the eternity, the blood drinking and ageing thing—but I can’t tell her that. Set rules.
“Well, what does it matter if you adopt? Aren’t kids all the same, anyway?”
I shrugged. “It’s just how I feel. It’s more complicated than that.”
“Then tell me what it is.” She stared me down. “Ara, I’m you r best friend. You can tell me
anything.”
I smiled softly at her. Funny t hing is, she was right. She had bec ome my best friend, and I
knew I could tell her about David—and she’d underst and. After all, she was ‘team Damon’; she’d
totally kill for love. “He’s a…well…he’s a v…” I swallowed. “He’s a very goal- oriented guy. He
wants to become a high-ranking member of ….” The Set council, “parliament, one day.” Well, at