Neither (16 page)

“Come here,” he says, taking my face in one hand and pulling it toward his lips.

I smile against his mouth as we kiss. I tried slipping him tongue before, but he never lets me in. Until now. I'm so surprised, I pull back a little. He follows me, slipping his tongue into my mouth. I make a little sound of surprise as his tongue touches mine for the first time. Then it's like everything takes over and it's like we've done this a million times, except it feels like the first.

Our mouths work with each other instinctively. I know where to go and he knows how to lead me there. My hands slide under his shirt, feeling his hard stomach. His hands wrap around the back of my neck and dive into my hair. Who knew kissing was hotter when his temperature is lower than mine?

I have no idea how long we're in the car, but he's the one who pulls away first. I gasp for air.

“You need to remember to breathe, my Ava-Claire,” he says, pushing my hair away from my face. I giggle, drunk on his kisses.

“It's hard to remember so many things when you're kissing me. My brain kind of shuts down.”

“I understand the feeling.” His arms trace my sides. He never tries to undress me, and that bothers me a little.

“What's wrong?”

“You don't touch me.”

“I am touching you right now.” His fingers trail up my arms, making my skin shiver.

“You know what I mean,” I say, pushing my hands under his shirt to show him. He looks at me, not blinking. I wait for him to answer. It takes a few moments.

“The reason I don't do that is because I wouldn't be able to control what happened next. I would tear this car apart to get closer to you. This does not seem like the right venue for that sort of thing. Nor your bedroom. Too many breakable things.”

“So you're worried you're going to break some of my stuff? But not me, right?”

“It could happen,” he says. I entwine our fingers and hold them in front of our faces, studying the difference between his hand and mine. Somehow we work. The human and the vampire angel.

“So what you're saying is we need to be in a place where it's okay to break things.”

“It would be better that way, yes.” He's trying to figure out where my mind is going.

“Well, there's nothing to break in the sky,” I say, smiling.

“Ava, that would not work. What if I dropped you?”

I run my finger down his nose. “You wouldn't. I'm not afraid of falling when I'm with you.”

“It is a recipe for disaster.”

“Well, I don't really have a good track record of good decision making. Reckless, remember?”

“You are. My reckless girl.”

“I like it when you call me yours.”

“As I am yours.”

“I adore you,” I say, using his replacement for I love you.

“And I adore you.” He gives me the perfect smile. I want to make out with him again, but there isn't time.

“I think it's time for me to pick you up,” I say, using air quotes. Peter lifts me off his lap and deposits me in the driver's seat with way more grace than I used getting over there in the first place.

“I should probably be bringing something.”

“Don't worry about it,” I say. He doesn't need to kiss up to my mom, and my dad is always going to hate him. He could show up with an entire four-course feast and a Rolex for him, and Dad still wouldn't like him. Dads are engineered to hate their daughter's boyfriends, especially when his natural reaction to a noctalis is negative. It is a lose-lose situation.

“It will work out,” he says, and I turn the ignition.

“Someday I hope your confidence will rub off on me.” As well as other things.

I try to pull out of the ditch, but the tires just spin.

“Aw, crap.” I try, but the wheels just kick up dust.

“One moment,” Peter says, getting out and shutting the door. Seconds later, the car moves forward. I pull out of the ditch and into the road. I stop, giving him a chance to get in.

“My hero,” I say, clutching my hands to my chest. “What would I do without you?”

“Be human.”

“Pft. How boring,” I say, taking his hand.

***

Peter stays for dinner, but doesn't eat with us, because of his lactose intolerance. I also add that he was recently diagnosed with Celiac disease, which cancels out most other food. Peter gives me a look that says, nice going. I'm proud of myself.

Dad is surprisingly nice about it. Whereas before he was offended or something about Peter not eating with us, now he just says that it's a shame. I glance at Peter in shock. He just blinks.

“When do you get out of school, Peter?” Mom asks.

“June 15,” he says, naming the exact same day that I get out. It's easier that way.

“Do you have any summer plans?” She toys with her fork, not really eating anything. We all pretend not to notice.

“I have a job working in my mother's office. Photocopying and that sort of thing.” Wait, what? First I've heard of it. I smooth my face and pretend that I totally knew. He needs to share these things with me ahead of time.

“You're lucky to have a job already in place. I bet she's pushing you into a career in law,” Mom says, giving him a little wink Dad doesn't see.

“She does push me, but I have decided that I have to make my own path.”

“Well, that's very admirable, Peter,” Dad says. I seriously want to ask who he is and what he did with my dad, but I can't get the words out.

“We were going to watch a movie. Would you like to join us? I know you said you had to get home for dinner, but I can talk to your mother if you'd like.”

“That is unnecessary. I will send her a text message,” Peter says, smiling. Perfect. He even remembers to blink and everything. What a good pretend human.

“Your mother won't mind?” Dad says.

“I'm sure she won't.”

We settle in to watch the newest sequel of a spy movie that Dad picked out. It isn't my cup of tea, nor my mother's, but it's gripping. Peter and I are allowed to share the recliner, and I even get to sit in his lap. I tip my head back and get crazy comfortable. Peter twists and untwists our fingers with one hand, and dances his fingers up my arm with the other. I've never been so comfortable in my life.

I glance over and see Mom and Dad in almost the same position, her head on his chest and his hand rubbing her back.

Helena is right. It is all about love.

Thirteen

Peter

I call Viktor again that night to discuss the latest developments. Ava is tired after the long day, and her head is full of so many things, it is impossible for me to be able to follow their twisting paths. Every time I think I know her completely, I am proved wrong. I like that.

“Did you see that coming?” I say.

“No, I did not. Tex's shock was overwhelming. Her mind is a very loud place.” I could only imagine.

“How are you coping with her emotions?”

“It is... stressful. Sometimes I wish I could go back to Russia.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No. I often wonder if it would have been like this with Adele. If her mind was such a chaotic place. I imagine it was. I wish I could have shared it with her.”

“It is a lot to get used to. Do you crave her blood?”

“Yes. It is constant. I do not know how you can feed from Ava so infrequently.”

“I have little need of it. What little she gives me is satisfying. I hope it will be that way for you.”

We have nothing to go on. I wish there was some sort of book for this, like the humans have their holy books. It appears that no noctalis ever found the need to write anything down. Most of the stories of us are passed orally, from what Viktor tells me from what he learned from other noctali. I felt the urge to write something down. To see it in print; to make it real.

“I will see you tomorrow,” I say.

“Goodnight.”

Viktor hangs up and I grab the notebook Ava keeps beside her bed, along with a pen. I turn past several lists she has made, including one with questions about being a noctalis. It makes me smile. I wish I had a mirror so I could judge if it looks right.

I find a blank sheet and tear it out, hoping she won't notice. I turn the pen in my hand, thinking of what to say. I know what I want to say, but I can't. It will end me. I can't even think about it. I switch my thoughts to something else. I write her name. Ava-Claire Sullivan. I write my name next to it, Peter Henry Mackintire.

Even slower than a human, I trace a heart around our names. Just a simple heart. Two rounded bumps and one end that is sharp like an arrow. Smooth and hard. Rough and soft. Death and life. Me and her. I wait for a second.

Ava mumbles in her sleep. I hope she is not having a nightmare. She turns on her back and her shirt rides up, exposing some skin at the base of her spine. I press the pen to her skin, making another heart, and then another. She stirs a little and I stop. She won't know they are there unless she somehow sees her back. I make dozens of them, some small, some larger. I am shocked she doesn't wake up. My hand smears some of the ink, and the hearts blend together. I stop and sit back, staring at the black ink on her pale skin. I kiss one of the hearts, tasting the pen and her skin.

I brush my thumb across the hearts. My Ava-Claire. Covered in hearts.

Ava

“You're watching me,” I say the next morning when I wake up. I had some really weird dreams, but I don't really remember them. At least I didn't have the burning one again.

“You are beautiful,” he says, as if he's commenting that it's Tuesday. I don't exactly feel beautiful first thing in the morning. I pull myself toward the bathroom, knocking into several pieces of furniture on my way.

First thing, I check my neck. It just looks like I've got a little red mark, like I bumped against something. Phew. I get in the shower and try to wake up. Peter stands at the door, which should be completely creepy, but it isn't. The door stays closed. It's also a relief to know that if I should slip and fall or have a seizure, or whatever, that he's right there to catch me. He's always there to catch me.

After my shower, he watches me walk around my room as if he only has eyes for me. It's so freaking sexy, I can't even look at him or else I'll think about jumping on him and tearing his shirt off. Too late.

“Ava,” he says as a warning.

“Sorry. I can't help it.”

“Try. Please.” Easier said than done.

We meet Helena, Tex and Viktor at the cemetery. I mention something to Mom about a shopping trip with Tex. It sounds legit.

“Hey!” Helena says, as if she's already had four cups of coffee. Except she hasn't, because she can't. So she just must be like that. All the time.

“Mmm,” Tex says, her eyes half-closed and her head on Viktor's arm. She can't really reach his shoulder. He looks down at her and moves his arm so it's around her, letting her head fall into his side. He looks a little shocked, but I see a little smile pass over his face like a cloud. He sees me and winks. I make the 'I'm watching you' motion with my fingers.

“Soooo, about yesterday. I'm really sorry I dumped all that heavy stuff on you,” Helena says.

“It's okay.” I still really haven't processed. It's like my brain is stuck or on strike or something. “We can talk about something else.”

“Unicorn,” Tex says sleepily. Viktor is now supporting most of her weight.

“Unicorns are so last year. It's all about the zombies,” Helena says.

“What?” Tex perks up.

Somehow, in all the madness, she, Tex and I start discussing the zombie apocalypse. Because it's an important thing. Much more important than planning how Helena is going to convince Di to cease her vendetta against me and let Peter and Viktor go. There will be more time for that later. The boys sit back and let us go, knowing that there's no stopping this runaway train of a conversation.

“See!” I say when Helena agrees with me about the treadmills not working.

“Whatever,” Tex says, all huffy. There is a lull and we all sit back. We humans sink to the uneven ground and the noctali follow. I have my head in Peter's lap, and Tex has her head on Viktor's shoulder. Helena has her shirt off again, but at least she's still got the bikini top on.

“What should we do now? Will you take me shopping? I haven't been real shopping in forever. I mostly buy everything online,” Helena says. She's wearing the cutest skirt with tiny pink flowers on it, and she has folded her white peasant top so it won’t wrinkle while she gets her daily sun dose. I can tell from the way they're made that they're more expensive than most of the clothes in my closet.

“You want to go shopping?” I say, just to make sure. Not that it doesn't sound like fun, but we should really be concentrating on Di.

“Yes! Please?” She claps her hands and pouts. If I didn't know she was a noctalis, I'd never know the difference. She is so human. “I know you want to deal with the Di thing, but can we do that tomorrow? I mean, I did just get here.”

“What about your parents?”

“They are busy and are going back to India in a few days. They said I could stay as long as I wanted.” She sounds like a teenager asking to stay out late at a party.

“I'm in,” Tex says. “I could sooo use some girl time.”

Helena squeals with delight. Wow, she is so human.

“What the hell?” I say. We aren’t going to get to Di today, and we need Helena to continue to want to help us. “Brunswick? I told my mom we were doing a girl thing anyway.” Perfect. I don't even have to lie.

“What about the boys?” Tex says, as if just remembering that they have to come with us. We both glance at them.

“We will be right behind you, but a suitable distance away so you can have girl time,” Peter says.

“I like this plan,” Tex says. “Sorry, dude, but I need someone who gets excited about pink to shop with.”

“I could get excited about pink,” Viktor says. Tex gives him a look. “Perhaps not.”

“Oh, yay!” Helena has enough energy for five people. Maybe she had too much blood or sun or something.

“You don't need to, um...” I still don't know what the PC way to say feed is.

“No, I'm good. I ate before I came.” Her face brightens with a smile. God, she's so perky, but not in an annoying way.