“You probably don't like my breath very much.”
“Humans are very concerned with how they smell, I have noticed.” I roll so that I'm propped on one elbow. We should really get off Mom's flowers.
“Well, if we all smelled like you, we wouldn't have to worry about it.”
“You smell good to me.”
“That's a relief,” I say. “We're probably crushing Mom's tulips.”
“We probably are.” He moves to his feet and leans down to pull me up. He pulls too hard and I slam into his chest. It hurts, but I like it.
“If you change me, maybe I'll be the one bruising you.”
“We don't bruise.”
I roll my eyes. “I know, but it would be cool to think that I'd be the one with the upper hand.”
“Ava, you have the power to destroy me every second. What more of an upper hand do you need?” There he goes again, turning it around on me.
“I guess you have a point. Still, it would be nice to beat you at an arm-wrestling match.”
He gives me a slow smile. “I could let you win.”
“Such a sweet boy,” I say, patting his cheek and wiping some dirt off it. He's a dirty boy, too.
“Come on, why don't you get cleaned up? Not that I don't like the garden boy look on you. There are some clean clothes in your drawer.”
“I will be right back,” he says, smearing dirt on my face as he walks by. Naughty boy.
I like this playful side of Peter. It is rare, so I cherish it even more. I realize this is what it could be like. Forever. I could lie in the dirt with him forever. Never grow old. Never change, never worry about getting sick.
My parents pull into the driveway as I'm putting the tools back in the shed. Dad helps Mom out of the car and she leans heavily on him.
“What's wrong?”
“They did some blood tests, so I'm a little woozy,” Mom says as she toddles up the steps to the front door, Dad helping her like she's a baby learning to walk.
I wish they would stop doing tests. They're not going to change anything, because she's not going to get better. I lean on the banister of the porch steps. That's a horrible thing to think. I know they're doing tests to figure out what medications to give her so she can be more comfortable, not just because they're sadists with God complexes. First do no harm, and all that, but still. Why can't they leave her alone?
I walk back inside as Peter is walking downstairs, slicking his wet hair back from his forehead. God, I love it when he does that.
“Oh hello, Peter. I didn't know you were here,” Mom says. Such a lie.
“He was just helping me in the garden,” I say because Dad looks really suspicious, like he's going to start talking about cleaning his gun, which he doesn't have.
“Oh,” he says.
“And he was just going home, right Peter? You have finals to study for.” I give our connection a little pinch.
“So do you,” he says.
“You're welcome to study here if you want to,” Mom says, smiling and giving Dad a pinch that we all see, but pretend not to.
“Thank you, Claire, but I should get home. Goodnight, Ava.”
“Goodnight, Peter.” I dive and give him a kiss on the lips right in front of my parents. If things go according to our promise, they're going to be seeing even more of that. Best to start them out slow.
“See you later,” I say as he walks out the front door. He's just going to turn around and go through the backdoor. Or in his case, roof. I'm adding Stealthily Climbing In My Window to the Peter Love list.
Twenty-Two
Peter
Ava's mother has a cold the next morning.
“It's nothing,” she says, her voice full of mucus.
Sam sends her back to bed with lots of medicine and orders her to rest. Ava's anxiety twangs upstairs to me, and I know that she is very close to breaking. I send her as much positive energy as I can. If I could, I would attach my hands to her skin and keep them there, to keep the bad things away.
I wish she did not have to be in school. Although I think it is important for her to maintain her human life, it does not seem possible right now. Minimizing my impact as much as possible is all I can do, and she makes it difficult. Especially now that I have promised to make her a noctalis. I knew it would come to that. She is so intent on ending her human life and starting her immortal existence. Sometimes I wonder if it is the escape from mortality, or if it is me that she is after. It is times like this when I wish I could read all her thoughts.
“I can't go today,” Ava says when I get in her car at the end of the driveway. “Can we just go to the beach or somewhere and just be the two of us? I need some us time.”
“Of course. I will take you wherever you need to go. Always.”
She looks at me with so much pain and desire to be with me it is nearly impossible to deny that she does want to be with me. Still, I will always have that doubt that if I had not Claimed her, she would not feel so about me.
“Thanks,” she says, giving me a peck on the cheek.
“Do you want me to drive?” I ask. I do not mind driving. It is rather pleasant, in a strange sort of way.
“Thanks, baby.” She kisses my cheek again and gets out of the car to switch seats.
“Buckle your seatbelt,” she says as she buckles hers, and pushes her seat back so she can lie down.
“Tired?”
“I don't know. I just couldn't turn my brain off.” The circles under her eyes have been getting darker and darker. The instances of her nightmares are more frequent as well.
“You had the nightmare again,” I say, brushing one finger along her arm to watch her skin burst into goose bumps.
She sits up, startled. “What?”
“The nightmare you have about me and your mother burning as we... say those words.” I have to stop myself from saying it. The words are in the back of my throat and burn like ash, but I'm able to swallow them down.
She groans loudly and pretends to smash her face on the dashboard. I start the car and drive toward town. I want to take her somewhere new. Somewhere she hasn't been. A place without memories so we can make some new ones.
She groans again, and I rub her back. “I really wish you couldn't read my mind. Really, really wish. Not that I don't love you, but I really don't need you in my head.”
“I am sorry. It comes to me and I cannot stop it. I like knowing what you're thinking. Not all the time, though. I also like you surprising me.”
“Well that's good. I'm sorry about that.”
“You cannot control what you see when you sleep, my girl.” She smiles when I call her mine. I like saying it because I like her reaction. I don't call her baby because she asked me not to. I will have to try out some other endearments to see which she likes the best.