“None taken.” I never take offense to anything she says. I can see the waitress is hyper aware of me and how different I seem. Ava's father feels it as well, but his wife's approval overwhelms that feeling. Most of the time.
“If we were doing the complete human experience, we'd probably drive your car to a place and park it to make out.” A blush creeps from her neck to her face as she says it.
“Is that what human couples do?” I have seen plenty of teenage couples to know that is what they do. The level of lasciviousness in teenagers today is astonishing.
“Sometimes. Other times they get drunk and stumble around.”
“That I do know about.” I had seen enough of that at the party we attended.
“Yeah, I know.” The waitress interrupts us by bringing back our drinks. She sloshes some of the water when she sets mine down and hastily tries to mop it up.
“I am so sorry.” She says it several times, as if we haven't heard her. I am familiar with human gestures of nerves. Ava has many of them.
“It is fine,” I say, trying a smile. I don't show teeth, I just lift my lips a little. The waitress won't look at me. She apologizes again and goes to take another order.
“That smile wasn't bad. Still needs work. We need to give you a few different smiles for different situations.”
“I still need to laugh.” I hadn't tried yet. My throat didn't seem capable of making the sound.
“I know. We need to find things that are funny to you. I know you have a sense of humor. I've seen it. Your sarcasm has gotten better.”
“Thank you.” I practice a breath. The air whistles in my lungs. I try just moving my chest in and out. That's better.
“You're welcome.” She reaches out for my hand under the table. I give it to her, squeezing her fingers gently. “I'm happy I'm here with you.” The feeling sloshes through her, like a wave. It is good.
“I'm happy to be here with you.” I blink for her.
“Earth-shatteringly happy?” Her smile appears again. I have seen it many times tonight. I never get tired of seeing it.
“Incandescently, earth-shatteringly happy.”
Her fingers trace circles on the back my hand. “I love that word, incandescent.”
“I like it very much, too.” I let her voice and the feel of her skin absorb into me, wash the smell of the diner away.
The pie arrives, with the tower of white meringue several inches atop the yellow lemon gel. Very pleasing to the eye.
“It's almost too pretty to eat,” she sighs, picking up her fork. She's finished her soda and had some of my water so it looks like I drank it. The waitress gave us two forks, so I pick one up.
“What are you doing?”
“Being human.” The plate moves out of the reach of my fork. Her fingers latch onto it as if holding on for dear life.
“Sorry, but your humaness doesn't extend to having my pie.” I pull my fork back.
“Would you share it with me. If I could have it?”
“I've given you my blood haven't I?” She points her fork at me. As if she's going to stab me with it. I know better than to get between Ava and pie.
“Yes.”
“My blood is almost as valuable as this pie.” She sticks her fork into the very edge of the pie, scooping out a large bite. She brings it to her mouth and rolls her eyes back in ecstasy.
“Is it good?” Nodding, she swallows and takes another bite.
“Heaven. Absolute heaven.” I watch her finish the rest of the slice, even scraping the plate to get the last bit of lemon. She licks her fork and puts it down on the plate next to my unused one. Considering for a moment, she folds up her napkin.
“Come here.” She sits up, leaning over the table. I do the same and she meets my lips. I can taste the pie on her breath. The sharp tang of the lemon with the sweet coolness of the meringue.
“There,” she says when our lips part. “Now you've had a taste.” Her smile is nearly as sweet as the pie.
Ava
It was the human thing to do. And it felt good. Kissing Peter had always felt good, right. But I'm aware that the kiss could have been our last. I pull back as fast as I can an wait for something bad to happen. Seconds pass.
He licks his lips after our kiss.
“Very good,” he says. Disaster averted, second of the night. It was probably good I didn't tell him how scared I was about going into the diner. But it wasn't bad. The blood kind of mingled with the other smells, creating a delicious aroma that made me want to eat the air.
The kissing was another matter. It was arrogant of me to think that just one kiss could make him instantly fall in love with me. It hadn't happened yet. And if I couldn't kiss him on this one night, then what was the point? Humans didn't have these problems. And tonight, we were human. Tomorrow we would be a girl and an angel vampire. But not tonight.
I end up paying the bill because Peter doesn't have any money. It's also not really fair for him to pay when I'm the one who consumed both the Sprite and the pie. I offer, once again, to sell some of his things on eBay. He asks me if it's a human thing. I say yes, although, it would be impossible to tell. I'm sure there are many a noctali selling their priceless antiques online. He reluctantly agrees.
At least that's one thing we've settled. I have hope for other things, too. And more kissing.
I hold Peter's hand again as we drive to the beach. Part of me wants to go to the cemetery, but that wouldn't have been part of human night. People didn't do things like that unless they were really weird or stoned or something. I was the former.
The town beach doesn't open for a few more weeks, so there are no other cars parked outside the closed gate. Peter lifts me up and over as if I'm nothing more than a bag of feathers.
“That wasn't human, but thanks anyway,” I say as he vaults over the gate himself.
He glances backward. “Should I do it over?” I laugh.
“No, it's fine. I'll overlook it.” I twist my fingers in his, swinging our hands. He resists at first.
“This is human. Go with it.” He does and I have this image of us skipping. It's not a very masculine image, but it's kinda funny.
When we get to the edge of the beach I tell him we have to take our shoes off, even though the sand is cold.
“It's the human thing to do.” We stack our shoes on top of a trash can so we can find them on our way back. The sand worms its way between my toes in the moonlight. Dried seaweed scrapes against the soles of my feet, but I've walked barefoot on this beach so many times, my feet are no longer sensitive to the rocks and broken shells. Of course none of this bothers Peter. He strides right into the water. I roll my pants up just in case.