Velvet (35 page)

Lucian looked happy, which made me happy, which gave me the energy to start the essay that was due Monday for Mr. Warren. We worked for a few hours, together but separate, as the fire cracked and popped. When we went to dinner, Mariana had cooked steaks, and I filled up on the Japanese “Wagyu” beef that was, Mariana explained, the most elite of steaks. I didn’t even know it was possible for meat to be elite, but whatever, it tasted good, so I ate it.

It was still early when dinner was finished, but I knew I’d actually have to wake up in the morning, so I took my (now) customary soak in the tub, a hot shower, and snuggled into the monstrous four-poster bed in my favorite pajamas; content that I’d gotten a first draft of the essay pounded out, I had food in my stomach, and as soon as my nightmare was over, I’d sleep like a baby.

I floated slowly down into the dream, and when the nightmare hit, it literally hit. I staggered back from a punch to the jaw and fell hard against the ice. Blinking to get the black dots out of my eyes, I realized I was sprawled out over the frozen pond Adrian had taken me ice-skating on back before Thanksgiving. I looked up just as someone pounded down on my stomach with what felt like a steel-toed boot. My body convulsed in and then snapped back sharp enough for me to know that bones had broken. Not only that, but the kick had driven all the air out of my lungs and I couldn’t breathe.

I stared up at the bright blue sky listening to my attacker circle me as I lay gagging. He grabbed my hair and pulled me up so my toes just barely scraped the ice. I finally sucked in enough oxygen to scream before I was thrown to the center of the pond. It cracked instantly and I fell down into the dark, freezing water. The current sucked me away from the hole in the ice and scraped me along the underside of the frozen lake until my face was raw and bleeding. When I opened my eyes the water pierced them, it was so cold. I hadn’t gotten enough air before and now the pain of the subfreezing water shocked what little air I
did
have right out of my lungs. I choked, sucking in water. I couldn’t move my fingers, couldn’t feel my feet; my eyelashes were crusted shut with ice and I was going to die.

I jerked awake, arching off the bed without an ounce of air; eyes wide in the darkness as my lungs stayed shriveled like popped balloons. I twitched, trying to loosen something so I could breathe, but every muscle was contracted, locked firmly in place. White dots were beginning to swim in front of my eyes when I felt two hands run quickly down my throat. One hand cupped the back of my neck and the other circled around my waist and lowered me back down against the bed, but I still couldn’t breathe. Adrian was pushing on my stomach, my rib cage and sternum, my throat again, tilting my head back to let air in; and then there were lips on mine, breathing air into me, forcing it down into my lungs, and everything unlocked at once. I turned away and coughed, sucking in huge, wracking breaths.

Slowly, slowly, my breathing began to calm down. I heard him mutter, “
Peur de la merde de moi; je vais avoir une crise cardiaque, un de ces jours
,” which I didn’t understand at all, but it sounded very lyrical and soothing. Then there was more muttering and rustling of sheets and I was being tucked very carefully into Adrian’s very warm body and I murmured something like, “You speak French?” and then I was out again.

I swam through murky un-dreams for a few hours, heavy and a little restless, and when I surfaced back to consciousness, I expected to find myself alone. But I wasn’t. I was lying on my side with Adrian’s arm wrapped around my waist, his face pressed into my neck, his legs tangled up with mine. He was still there. And he was asleep, breathing so quietly that I could feel his unnaturally slow heartbeat against my back. He stirred, rubbed his face against my neck, tightened his arms around my waist, and settled.

It still amazed me how much I loved him.

*   *   *

“For Pete’s sake, Meghan; that’s the eighth dress you’ve tried on—I’ve been counting.”

“Hold your friggin’ horses,” came the reply from behind the dressing room door. In the next stall over, Jenny was helping Stephanie with the zipper on the back of her off-white dress while Stephanie stood on her tiptoes and sucked in her stomach muttering the word
pictures
over and over again. The door flung open and Meghan stepped out in a low-cut, red satin dress.

“We’ve got a winner!” Trish said, giving her a thumbs-up.

“A winner with a chunky price tag,” Meghan muttered.

Trish flipped the label and sucked in a breath. “Oooh.”

“Winter formal comes but once a winter, however, and I have been saving.”

Trish stared at her. “You—saving?
Money?
”

“I know, I know; Jesus must be coming back or something. Anyway, I’ve got enough to cover it.”

“There!” I heard Stephanie squeak from her stall as Jenny finally got the zipper all the way up.

“Can you breathe?” Laura asked, peeking over her stall door.

“I don’t need to breathe, I just need to get through the pictures. And I’ll be losing weight before the dance.”

Stephanie was popping out of her dress a bit in the chest area, which was rather scandalous for her, but on the whole she looked really nice. It was a creamy, off-white chiffon with a deep V-neck and a small trail. She kinda looked like a Greek goddess.

“Come on, Laura; what you got?” Trish said, waving at Laura who was peeking out from behind her door. She grimaced, disappeared, and then the door swung open and she was standing in front of us in a deep, plum-colored, square-necked halter with a side tuck that went halfway up her thigh.

“Yes,” Trish said, granting her approval.

“You think?” Laura asked, looking doubtful.

“Definitely. Dan won’t know what hit him.”

Laura smiled, caught herself, scowled, and headed back into the dressing room. Trish had already bought a black dress at the last store, which amplified her naturally impressive bosom. I was sitting on a little plastic footstool thing in the hallway, watching the hubbub with a happy, tired sort of amusement.

“Are you going to try anything on?” Jenny asked me.

I shook my head. “I already got my dress. I’m just here for moral support.” I noticed her hands were empty, and I couldn’t remember her trying anything on in the past six stores we’d been to. “What about you? Are you getting anything?”

She shrugged, and I could tell she was upset.

“Hey,” I said, standing, “you’ve gotta try at least one dress on.”

“There’s nothing I like,” she said simply.

I grabbed her by the arms and made her sit. “Let me pick something out. I guarantee you’ll like it.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t protest. I darted through the clothing racks, not entirely sure what I was looking for other than something in a deep, rich color. Jenny was too pale for pastel. And then—

“Get in there,” I said, hauling her into an empty stall and handing the dress in after. I stood there for a good five minutes while Jenny muttered what might have been obscenities, but it was Jenny, so I couldn’t hear her half the time anyway. By now, everyone else had changed back into their regular clothes and was waiting for the big reveal. Finally, the little metal door handle squealed and swung open.

I raised my hand, which Trish immediately slapped in a slo-mo high five. “I win.”

Jenny scowled, clearly uncomfortable being the center of attention. I pulled her into the hall and stood her in front of the three-way mirror.

Damn. I was good.

Remembering how amazing her New Year’s Eve dress had looked on her, I’d chosen a deep blue, floor-length dress. In place of sleeves, it had a dozen thin straps on either shoulder that met at the waist in the back.

“Oh, Jenny, you look gorgeous,” Stephanie said, the last to step out of her dressing room.

Jenny stared at the mirror. “I look naked.”

“There’s plenty of material in the front,” Trish scoffed. “All in favor of Jenny buying this dress, say ‘aye.’ It counts for two votes if you say it like a pirate.”

There were three normal ayes and two pirate ayes (I was one of the pirate ayes), so I guess that counted as seven votes against her. She smiled in an excruciatingly shy way, and stared at the floor.

“Fine,” she said, giving in. Trish and Meghan cheered in victory. Everyone made their purchases and we piled into Stephanie’s mom’s Suburban and drove back to Stony Creek in high spirits. I sat down next to Jenny as Meghan blasted pop music from the stereo.

Afraid I’d overwhelmed her, I asked Jenny, “How’s it going?”

Oddly enough, she blushed. “Good.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Really good,” she amended. “There’s this boy. And he sent me this for my birthday.” She held up her wrist and I saw a delicate silver band around her wrist with a single deep blue stone set in the middle. “He said it matched my eyes.”

That would’ve sounded cheesy if it weren’t for the fact that Mark (I assumed it was Mark) was right—they were almost the exact same shade. I grinned at her and she covered it back up with her sleeve. We got sucked back into the general conversation and the ride back passed quickly. When I got home, I could smell dinner cooking and realized I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast at Adrian’s.

“Hi,” Rachel smiled tentatively as I came through the front door. “Did you find a dress?”

“Yeah—I left it at Trish’s.”

It was a weird excuse, but since I was still working on my real dress, and that dress was at Adrian’s, I couldn’t have Rachel ask to see what I’d bought.

Before Rachel could question why I’d left my dress at Trish’s, I was saved by Joe dragging Norah in through the front door, smelling strongly of horses.

“Five more minutes!”

“You’ve been out there since dawn.”

“And it’s still dusk!”

I glanced out the window. It was pitch-black.

“You’ve still got a week to practice for the semifinals,” he said, setting her down as he closed the door, “but dinner is now.”

*   *   *

Since it was already a habit of mine to go over to Trish’s three or four times a week, it wasn’t difficult to trick Rachel and Joe. It was actually so easy that I almost felt bad about it—almost. I’d go home with Trish after school and she’d tell her parents we were going out to study, or to Jenny’s or Laura’s or Meghan’s or Stephanie’s. Then she’d drop me off at Adrian’s and I’d get in several hours of work on the dress. Adrian drove me back over to Trish’s, who drove me home. It was ridiculous and convoluted, but I slowly made progress. If I totally ignored homework for the next week (which, to be fair, I couldn’t concentrate on anyway with the sleep deprivation), I’d get the dress done in time for the dance. I knew my priorities were totally backward on that one, but, well, I was literally not thinking straight.

A bizarre event happened a few days before winter formal as I was working in my studio. Lucian had just run out to tell Adrian something, a story or an idea, I can’t remember, and I thought he had come back, but when I looked up, it wasn’t Lucian standing there, and it wasn’t Adrian—

It was Julian.

He stopped just inside the doorway, hands in the pockets of his thousand-dollar jeans, shirt loose and open at the chest. I remembered my first impression of him that day in the library—he’d seemed confidant and chiselled, but not as beautiful as Adrian. Adrian was simpler, adapted to Stony Creek, content with blending in—as much as he could, at least. Julian expected attention.

I sat paused with two pieces of velvet in my hands, waiting for him to speak. He didn’t look friendly, but he didn’t look angry. More … perturbed. Puzzled, maybe.

“Are we going to stare at each other, or can I get back to work?”

He gave me a brief, wry smile. “Mind if I come in?”

I hesitated—he and Adrian were still not on good speaking terms (although I wasn’t sure if they’d ever been on good speaking terms), and I didn’t want to add to it. At the same time, I didn’t know much about Julian.

Curiosity won.

“Sure,” I said, and pointed at one of the many padded stools around the worktable. He took a seat and rested his chin on his hand. I wondered if he knew it looked like he was posing.

“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked, since he didn’t seem to feel the need to speak.

Now that he was closer, I could see that his eyes were that strange, celestial mix of deep blue and amber. It reminded me of a compass for some reason, or a globe. He stared at me a moment longer, a small crease marring his forehead as he frowned in thought.

“Your boyfriend hates me.”

I was a little startled, both by what he said and the fact that I had begun to get a little lost in the colors of his eyes. “You mean your brother?” I deflected.

He shrugged dismissively. “Same thing.”

I snorted. “Um, no. He’s
actually
your brother. He’s pretending to be my boyfriend.”

He looked amused, glancing around the state-of-the-art studio. “This is pretend?”

I blushed. “Adrian has an overdeveloped sense of guilt, for whatever reason, and tries to pay it off by buying me expensive things he thinks I need.” I didn’t want to talk about that anymore. “And he doesn’t hate you.”

“Perhaps,” Julian conceded. “But he doesn’t think very highly of me, does he?”

I couldn’t really argue with that one. “Why is that?”

Julian cocked his head to the side and stared at me as though trying to work out a puzzle. “Adrian isn’t like the rest of us,” he said finally. “He tends to want too much.”

I scowled. “You’re being intentionally cryptic.”

He snorted. “Couldn’t properly call myself a vampire if I wasn’t.”

I looked at him—I mean really looked at him, probably for the first time. He was incredibly beautiful, but there was a blankness to him. Less than Mariana and Dominic, but it was there. Like he was fading right before my eyes. “Why are you really here?” I asked finally. “I have things to do—and I was under the impression you didn’t like me all that much.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t care about you enough to dislike you.”

I laughed, too tired to be offended. “Someday you are actually going to care about something, and you won’t have any idea what to do about it. I should get you a puppy,” I mused. “I can’t see you being mean to a cute little puppy.”