“No, I just wanted to make absolutely sure.”
“You can do what you want, Ava.”
True enough.
“What about Tex? Would you mind if I told her?
Blink.
I'll take that as a no.
***
I could not stop my hands from trembling. She appeared calm, which was in opposition to the feelings that rolled off her like body heat.
I had not been afraid of anything in a long time. I supposed afraid was not the right word. I didn't know if I could take any more, but seeing her did make me feel marginally better. Perhaps better was not the word. I felt... safer? No. More content. Things were the way they should be. It also made me want to do other things. Touch her face and stare into her eyes and find out what her lips might taste like. Of course I had thought of these things before but there was an immediacy now, as if I would die if I did not do these things. It burned within me, this need to be close to her.
I did not like it.
I did like it.
I didn't know.
She looked at me differently. I wished I could crawl inside her mind to see what she thought. Was she thinking about me? I hoped she was. I couldn't tell where my feelings began and hers ended anymore. They were all muddled and twisted together and I couldn't find myself.
Her mother didn't trust me. I didn't trust me, either.
***
“Can you drive?” I decide that there's no time like the present to fix things with Tex. I also want to put off telling my mom about everything, but I don't want him to know that.
I tell Mom that Peter and I are going out. I get an eyebrow raise and a, “drive safe and be back for dinner.”
We pull out of the driveway just as Dad is pulling in. I don't bother to ask Peter to duck. Dad's not paying attention to me anyway. I wonder what other sparkly thing he's brought home for her. I keep seeing shiny things appearing on her ears or around her neck that weren't there the day before.
“I am familiar with the mechanics. My brother, Viktor is fond of cars,” he says.
“I've never heard you mention him much before.” He blinks. Noctalis shrug.
“Well?”
“He's my next oldest brother.”
“He's not like...” I don't need to say the name.
“No. We get along quite well.”
“Can I meet him?”
“I don't think that would be wise.”
“Why not?”
Blink.
Grr. He's doing that thing again, but I can feel through the emotional telegraph that's strung between us, there's more to it and he's keeping a lot from me. I turn on the radio and find some Celine Dion. I concentrate on him, trying to pick up his vibes. It's like tuning into radio static, only harder, because I'm part of the static.
Tex is working late, so I bring her an Irish cream cappuccino, which I know will soften her up. I add a danish, just to make sure I'm covering all my bases. I make Peter wait in the car, which seems kind of mean, but I want to talk with her without him there giving me vibes or freaking her out.
“We're closed!” Tex calls as I open the door.
“Good, that means we're alone.” I walk slowly toward her, pretending to be sexy. Instead of playing along she glares at me.
“Shouldn't you be wherever it is you go, which you won't tell me about, doing whatever it is you also won't tell me?”
“I came to apologize, and I brought provisions.” I hold the bag up in front of my face like a peace offering. I hope she won't throw it back at me. That cappuccino's hot.
“Bribery is a start.” She open the bag and yanks out the danish. She turns it over before she bites into it. “Talk,” she says around a mouthful.
“So, here's how it goes. I asked the person if it was okay to tell you, and they said yes. Whatever you think it is, it's not. It's weird. And not weird like someone who LARPs on the weekends or has a multimillion dollar Pez collection. This is big.”
“Come on, now you have to tell me after building it up like that.” She takes a spiteful bite of danish. At least she hadn't thrown it at me.
“Okay.” I take a deep cleansing breath.
“You don't have to tell me right now,” she says, backpedaling while wiping the cappuccino mustache off her upper lip. “I'm not going to torture you. I can tell that this is tearing you up. I just can't imagine what could be so crazy that you couldn't tell me. All I can think is that it's something illegal and that scares me.”
“It's not illegal.”
“That's good to know, because you'd look awful in orange.” She licks some frosting off the danish. Man, I'm hungry.
“That is true, but it's not that, I assure you.”
“Then fine, tell me if you can.” The danish did it.
“You're not mad at me?”
“I'd hate to be one of those petty friends who freaks out when someone has a secret.” I let out the breath I've been holding.
“And that's why I love you.”
She looks scandalized.“You'd better love me.”
“Of course I do, I brought you a danish, didn't I?” I point to the quickly-disappearing pastry.
“You did.” She smiles and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Just don't make a habit of keeping juicy secrets. I can't stand not knowing things.”
“Yeah, I'm aware.”
“Don't push your luck.” She finishes the danish and licks her fingers. I forgot to get her a napkin. She looks at me expectantly.
“You should probably sit down.” She grabs two rolling chairs from the back office and crashes into one, swiveling from side to side.
“So this is going to sound insane. So um, you know that guy, Peter?” Her eyes light up, like she's expecting juicy gossip, like I lost my virginity or something. Oh, if only it was that.
“Yeah, and?” She waves her hands for me to go on.
“Anyway, so I've been spending a lot of time with him. There's other stuff I need to tell yo, toou.”
“So tell me.” She grips the edge of her seat and leans forward, as if she's going to fall out of the chair if I don't tell her.
“It's not as easy as you want it to be.”
“You didn't do it, did you?”
“What? No!” My cheeks flame for a second. It's time to put an end to this.
“Peter's a vampire. Sort of.” I'm going to bring him in at the end in case she doesn't believe me, but she will. I know she will.
“Yeah, okay.” She rolls her eyes.
“No, seriously.”
“You're screwing with me.”
“No, I'm really not.” I start tipping back and forth in my chair, but she grabs it so I'll stop. “He died in 1912. On the Titanic, actually, but that's not relevant.” I wave it off. “So he's like, almost a hundred years old... wait, is he? That's not important.” I'm really messing this up.