by A. M. Hudson
David covered his mouth with his fist and cleared his throat. “You said it first.”
“Hey!” I put my hands on my hips. “I’ll give you therapy in a minute if you don’t stop reading my mind.”
He chuckled, and I watched him walk across the other side of the room to grab his jacket. I love it when he laughs. It makes him seem so normal—so human.
“Except, there is nothing human about what we just did,” David joked.
“Stay out of my head!” I headed for the door in a stormy huff.
“Wait?” He grabbed my arm and held up his jacket. “You might want to put this on.”
I frowned at him; he pointed to my neck. Oh crap! The bite! If it looks as bad it burns, people will think David did something really horrible to me. He held his jacket out, then pulled it closed around my chest and kissed my brow after I slipped my arms into it.
“What about you? I bit you.”
“I’ll be healed by the time I cross the room. But you—” he laughed at the skin on my shoulder and ran his finger over it again, “—you may take a little longer.”
“How long?”
“If you heal fast—a week, maybe. If not—a month.”
Crud! If Dad sees it, he’ll freak. I wrapped my hand over the bite. It stings so badly—worse now with David’s denim jacket scratching against it. But the strong smell of him is all over the inside of this coat, so I don’t mind one bit.
“Oh, and, one more thing.” He grabbed my arm again. “The history paper?” He kissed my temple quickly. “Don’t do vampires.”
“Why?”
“Just don’t.”
“You never give me a reason.” I huffed, dropping my arms to my sides.
“I don’t have to—you should just trust me.”
“No way. What do you think this is? The eighteen-hundreds?”
“No. I think you are a human, and I’m a vampire—and I have my reasons.” He turned away with a sly smile, and the room filled with light as he opened the door—severing any further discussion.
Humph! I’m still doing vampires. You can’t stop me.
He leaned closer as we stepped into the auditorium again. “Try me.”
The group of David’s friends, only at rehearsal for their comedy skit, burst into a Mexican wave as we walked out. My cheeks flushed with heat, and the humiliation nearly forced me to run back into the closet. David grabbed my arm.
“Hey, Dave? Man, your jeans are wet,” one of the jock’s pointed to the cola spill.
“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.” 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 lightly nudged Alana with his elbow.
“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. I would never be so inappropriate as to display my affections for the girl I love, in a closet space,” David said, then winked at me.
Everyone looked into their laps. Conversation. Over.
“So. Subject change,” Emily chimed in. “The memorial concert? The whole reason we’re here?” She motioned around the table.
“Let’s start the rehearsal, then.” I grinned, biting into my nachos. They taste boring in comparison to David. I’d prefer to have him, instead.
From the corner of my eye, I saw David grin. He reached under the table for my hand, winding his leg under my ankle as I entwined my fingers around his.
This is nice. This is how things should be. Sitting at lunch with friends, talking about normal things—but hiding a burning desire to run away with the boy you love, and never let him go.
It surprises me, though, that I can just be here like this. It should seem like only yesterday I was so afraid to cross the street and come to school, but, surrounded by new friends, talking and acting normal—having pencil throwing fights and laughing about our mistakes during rehearsal—the happiness I own right now makes me feel like I’ve been here, at this school, all my life.
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 music hall, rehearsing for the memorial concert.
When the day ended, I said my goodbyes and wandered across the oval 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 the safety of the widespread field of grass as I bounced along, smiling.
It’s nice to be able to smile to myself, for no other reason than the fact that I’m happy. I never thought I would be again, but I am now, even though the feel of the wind on my cheeks brings back a strong memory of losing my mum. The damage to my face after the accident took a long time to heal properly, and sometimes, if I angle my jaw into the wind the wrong way, I can still feel the pain of the internal bruising the doctor said could take months to heal. But today, the wind feels nice.
“Haven’t you learned not to walk with your eyes closed?”
I smiled, keeping them closed anyway. “Hmm.” 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. I can’t believe how normal he looks with a schoolbag on his back—he’s just David, just as he always has been. His dark side is a secret. No one could ever imagine he’s a vampire, and no one will ever know. Except me.
“So, I was thinking?” David glided along beside me, at my pace, with his hands behind his back.
“Mm. I’m listening.” My eyes narrowed when I noticed the cheeky grin slipping onto his lips.
“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 cut in with a finger to my lips. “I’ll have no more of this. Just accept it, as a gift—a token of my affection for you. It will do me great honour to escort you to the ball in a dress fit for a queen—for my queen.”
My throat stopped passage of all vocabulary. I froze in place, my hands and feet numb under the weight of his perfect words. All I could do was nod and swallow the sentence that had been my retort.
What can I possibly say to that?
Vicki busied herself chopping vegetables, and David laughed, sitting beside Sam at the dining table—helping—or doing his homework for him.
No wonder Sam like’s David so much.
I smiled at Vicki and pointed to the fruit bowl at the end of the bench. “Tar,” I said, biting the apple she passed me.
“David, will you stay for dinner tonight?” Vicki asked.
David looked up from explaining something to Sam. “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.
David smirked.
“Great,” Vicki beamed, without needing my answer. “It’s n
othing special, but I’m making apple pie for dessert.”
David looked at her with the most incredibly charming smile and said, “Apple pie happens to be my favourite.”
“Oh, really?” Vicki looked at me with the excitement of a little girl in her eyes. “That’s great then.”
She likes you, I sent my thought to David; he stifled a small chuckle and pointed the tip of his pencil to the top of the page in front of Sam. I wish you’d come over here and tutor me—I don’t get this Pythagoras’ Theorem crap.
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 into place in my brain, I fazed 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.
This math thing really isn’t as hard as I thought, but maybe I should pretend not to get it so David will sit next to me. He’s been here all afternoon and I’ve not held his hand or even heard his voice, really. And I doubt Vicki will let me take him up to my room to do ‘homework’.
A roll of paper hit my forearm, bounced up and landed between my wrists. I looked at David, who winked as I unfolded it. Written in perfect Victorian cursive handwriting, the note said: What exactly would we be doing in your room—other than homework?
Stay out of my head!
He laughed and picked up his coffee cup. I’ll show him. As it touched his lips, my inner voice practically yelled, how ‘bout we do what we did under the stage the other day.
Brown liquid burst all over David’s homework; he coughed, pushing his chair out and wiping his mouth and chin on his sleeve. “Ara!”
That’ll teach you. I giggled, covering my mouth as apple pieces threatened to expel with laughter. Vicki stared between David and I, and Sam, oblivious to all other life forms aside from himself, simply shook his head, sighed, like we’re immature, and went back to his homework.
“Ara,” Vicki said, “What did you do to the poor boy?”
David stood up, placed the coffee cup in the sink, then took the dishcloth from Vicki and wiped the table and his homework, shaking his head the whole time.
“Nothing,” I said innocently.
“I’m sure.” She turned back to the stove and poured some cream into the pot. “So, you have the girls coming for a sleepover this Saturday, right?”
“Mm-hm.” I nodded—quickly looking back at my homework.
“So, when are we going dress hunting? I assume you’ll want to do it soon, before Mike arrives?”
My head whipped up to look at David, now back in his chair; he smiled behind his book—keeping his eyes on the text and nowhere near my infuriated glare.
Did you know she’s been thinking about the dress issue?
“Did Ara tell you, Mum?” Sam smiled at David. “David’s gonna buy her a dress?”
Traitor! I wonder how much David paid him to say that.
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 her speaking-to-an-ignorant-teenager voice.
David leaned back in his chair and breathed out through a smile. “There is no price too high. I want Ara to have the prettiest, most extravagant dress money can buy.”
Vicki stared, her mouth gaping. “How much do you want her to spend?”
Don’t, David, please don’t, I looked at him and shook my head. Vicki will definitely spend exactly what he tells her to, without any hint of remorse. I, on the other hand, will feel like a dirty thief.
He grinned and completely ignored me as he ripped a corner of his notepad, scribbled something down on it, showed it to Sam, who nodded, and then passed it to Vicki. “No less than this.”
Vicki gasped.
“What? Vicki, how much? Tell me?” I whined.
Vicki 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?”
With a subjugated frown, I folded my arms and looked at David; he chuckled, and my heart melted. I let out a deep breath and pushed aside my disdain for bought affections—well, for now anyway. I will evade this dress-buying scheme. I’ll just have to think of a plan later—out of the glass window of David’s mind-reading.
You’re cheeky, David, but I love you.
David nodded and turned back to help Sam.
We finished our homework, all of us existing in a familiar silence for the rest of the afternoon, until Dad walked in, his face lighting up as soon as he saw we had a guest.
Then, the topic of my dress came up at dinner, and as usual, Dad betrayed me, expressing how great he thinks it is. By the time I’d cleared the plates and David gave Sam the night off dishes, I had to pretend to admit defeat.
“Is it awful?” I asked, taking a wet plate in my tea-towel-covered hand.
“Is what awful?” David re-rolled his sleeve over his elbow and stuck his hands back in the sink.
“Eating?” I whispered, leaning closer, trying to keep our not-so-private-conversation private.
David let out a short breath of laughter. “No. It’s very normal for me. I mean—” He looked over his shoulder at Dad, then leaned closer. “It’s not totally necessary, but I still enjoy it. 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.
“Things taste better,” he added when he handed me another plate, way too slowly. Is he stalling, or just trying to look human? “My senses are very finely tuned, so taste is enhanced, touch is enhanced. Everything.” He smiled suggestively.
“So?” I said slowly, running one finger at a snail’s pace down his spine. The soft, silk fabric of his shirt bunched under my finger as it glided along and stopped at the waist of his jeans. “This feels better when you’re a vampire?”
“Shh.” He turned and smiled at me, nodding toward my dad. “And, yes. That feels incredible.”
Dad stood up and walked out of the room. I held my breath. “Is he mad at us?”
David listened for a second, then shook his head. “He just wants to talk to Vicki about Mike coming to stay.”
“Well, what about it?” I snapped. “Is he worried I’m going to sneak into Mike’s room or something?”
“No, sweetheart.” David smiled. “He’s just talking to her about moving the furniture from the spare room—tidying things up. He’s going to ask me to help.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay then. I thought he might’ve been offended about my touching you.” Since Dads don’t like to think their daughters are human. Maybe he’d be happy that I’m with a vampire, at least I can’t get pregnant.
“Not entirely true.”
“Damn it, David, stop reading my mind!” I slapped him with the tea towel.
He laughed and looked at the pile of dishes. “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.
He whirled into a blur of grey and black, like watching the road out the window when driving down the highway, while I stood helpless in the middle of the kitchen, hearing the tap or a cupboard door every now and then.
“All done.”
I blinked rapidly when a handsome vampire with an egotistical grin appeared in front of my face, dusting off his hands. “I only counted to ten!” 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 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 know he won’t come upstairs with me. It’s late, and he has his rules.
“It’s out of respect for you, Ara. Not to tease you.”
“I know, but it’s annoying.” I pulled my scarf away from my neck a little and allowed the bruising there 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 bruise over 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.
He let a breath out through his smile. “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 are looking for are excited, lustful—” his voice lowered before he said, “aroused.”
My cheeks turned hot underneath. He’s right. I’ve never felt that before—but that’s exactly what it felt like. “What does that mean, though? That being bitten makes me want to…to have sex with you?” I whispered the ‘s’ word.
“Yes, but I prefer to think of it as…” he stroked the backs of his fingers slowly over my cheekbone, “making love.”
My breath shuddered. “Surely that’s not right—for me to be turned on by you doing dangerous things to me?”
“Of course it is—what’s not right is taking pleasure in taunting me when I’m about to kill you.”
“Is it—” I chewed the inside of my lip. “Is it wrong for me to want—” Gah! I huffed the rest of my words out in one gust. Forget it. I can’t finish this sentence without feeling like a fool. I wish my mouth had never opened.
“Ara?” David stepped even closer, towering over me a little, with eyes of concern. “S’il vous plaît, mon amour? What is it?”